Tuesday, 14 July 2015

Boards: Trodden. Legs: Broken

hole in the road protected by road signsWell, some of me was dreading school today to see if anyone remembered my accidental Freudian Slippery yesterday when I revealed the name of my childhood crush.
No big deal. As predicted, barely anyone remembered and the target of attention remains unaware, hooray.
We got our class photos today, made in sections and stitched together by the magic of photoshop etc, a couple of us have a third arm and I'm sure that's not my face.
But I had to give gymnastics a miss tonight as the theatre is putting on its annual showcase revue using me as the newest and brightest star, honest. This meant an early shower and hot food.
The Company of Elders put on scenes from Pygmalion scattered throughout the night and left Victorian pennies scattered over the stage following a flower-selling incident.
'Voices' sang A cappella and would do much better at the Beer Festivals than the stuff they've had lately: a chap san Hellfire from the Hunchback of Notre Dame and then we did the Jam Jar story.
groundlings youth theatre group showcaseWhere I say we, my age group is usually about half a dozen strong but for this performance, only 2 bothered to turn up, Archie and I. We manhandled it between us with 2 girls from the group above who dropped down an age bracket to help out. There might have been the odd pause and gap, and we had to hop,skip and jump, but I looked good as an evacuee in wartime England. At one point the girls ploughed on with a bit of song so Archie couldn't get his line in about the unexploded bomb so apparently I was traipsing across rubble looking for Jam with ladies screaming 'look out' at me for no apparent reason.
9 girls competently sang 'When I grow up' from Matilda and in the intermission, Pygmalion's pie seller was dressed as an army captain and serving behind the bar. Jof said she should do the bar next time.
In the second half I introduced a song about Broadway and the tutors did a turn each. The Teenager dance group re-imagined the birth of the NHS with a patient refusing to be seen by a Caribbean nurse because she was a dirty nigger. Then the 'Voices' sang some more and one of them looks just like one of the Dixie Chicks. We all got very hot and got home for 945.

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