Final reckoning

I thought I'd begin my final broadcast with the opening lines of one of my favourite songs and which seem to be appropriate:

The party's over
It's time to call it a day
They've burst your pretty balloon
And taken the moon away
Now you must wake up
All dreams must end
Take off your make-up
The party's over
It's all over, my friend

Actually, I think I may have combined bits of the first two verses, but the point is well made. It's amazing how empty life becomes when you suddenly finish a show. The applause dies away, the camaraderie of being with your fellow actors is gone and you're stuck at home washing your smalls when you feel you should be out rehearsing. Of course, there will be other shows, but until the next one comes along you just bathe in the memories with a warm friendly glow. For a time, Thelma and I even forgot our differences and patched over the unpleasantness about the incident with Dickie's gnomes last year.

Our lady President, Dame Vivian AuFait, told me in passing that she thinks Murder at Checkmate Manor has been one of our greatest successes. Almost, she said, a triumph! She particularly loved being in the new theatre at The Playhouse and enjoyed regaling the younger ladies with stories of her early years on the boards. And she actually did perform on boards. She was quite a looker in her day and was a bit of a Forces sweetheart. Oh yes. When she first started performing it was with ENSA, going out to entertain the troops by singing songs round the piano in foreign climes where the stages tended to be made out of two empty Tizer crates and a couple of planks. She was very popular with the boys and whenever they saw her arrive they all came running. Because they'd been starved you see.

For those not in the know, Gordon had to finish the remaining three nights of the play as Sylvia was not well enough to come back. I am pleased to report that she's up and about again now, but she has got to appear in court next week charged with assault. Apparently she lashed out at one of the doctors when she went in for her scan after the accident last week. It transpires that after performing a scan, the doctor was going through Sylvia's medical records and she misheard what he was reading out about one of her existing conditions. It's amazing how the words "acute angina" can be misconstrued.

There will be the usual classes throughout July but all Guild activities take a break in August as so many of our members disperse for annual holidays and the like. Come September we shall start up again and that month we shall be holding auditions for our South Pacific on Ice extravaganza which I am pleased to report that Rev Reg is hoping to be back in harness for as director. Not that we weren't very grateful to David but I know Deep End are keen to get him back in their fold.

I am trying to gloss over a certain troubling rumour that there is disquiet in the Guild. We have an AGM coming up and I am told there is a plot to try and oust me as Chairman. Some people think I have let it all go to my head and that I'm turning into Margaret Thatcher. Dickie tells me I should be flattered as at least she's a Blue and that it could have been worse - I could have been compared to that Hazel Blears creature. I am not sure who is at the bottom of all this. I have a feeling that my predecessor, Emma Royde, has something to do with it. Or possibly Estelle Urtz. I always said we should never have allowed an American into the Guild. I mean, you don't find English surnames with Zs in, do you?

So, dear readers, until the next production, au revoir, and thanks for reading!

Not quite a final comment

This morning, I was going to post a little report on the success of our recent show, Murder at Checkmate Manor, which finished last night. But as so often happens with these events, I find myself too upset to write coherently about the experience you all witnessed. One gets so closely involved with one's fellow cast and crew that after building up to a climax the morning after is a bit of a damp squib and there is an aching empty vacuum.

So, dear readers, I shall take the afternoon to compose my thoughts, dry my tears, and report back here tomorrow. I'm sure those of you who had trod the boards yourselves will know the emotional condition I am in right now.

A close run thing

A minor miracle happened yesterday afternoon. There we were, sat round Gwyneth's dining room table, with several committee members urging me to cancel the show, when a knight in white armour rode in to save the day. Our Gordon - henceforth known as Our Hero. With no one else seemingly willing to step into Sylvia's shoes, dear Gordon manly volunteered to play Inspector O'Reilly. Our treasurer was particularly pleased as we've spent quite a lot of money on this production - as you'll see with the special effect at the end of Act I - and the thought of having to refund ticket money gave her palpatations.

Although he hasn't acted since he was at school, he is of course blessed with a photographic memory - if only the same could be said of Thelma - and it seems that Act II was already in his head from reading it in at the dress rehearsal. So he went away and learned Act I during the rest of the afternoon and, it has to be said that, under the circumstances, he didn't do too bad a job (a few pauses, missed cues and prompts aside). He's now on standby for the rest of the week, as obviously we'd like Sylvia to return to the role if at all possible, but it's all going to be very last minute as to whether she has the stamina.

Of course, the theatre insisted that we had to check every single floodlight we'd put up after the calamity. I think the trouble is that poor Martin has had far too much to do in a short space of time. At one point in the show last night I was lying on the floor (for plot purposes you understand, I hadn't slipped) and saw several decidedly shaky looking lamps on the rig overhead. This despite the fact that I have spoken to Martin about tightening his nuts. I had him down on the floor several times after the show last night but I have to say I am still not satisfied.

We did have one slight issue before the show yesterday but, to be fair, Doug wasn't expecting to have to take over stage management duties from Gordon. Gordon hadn't had time to finish off the aforementioned special electrical effect for the end of Act I, so Doug and Henry were tinkering with it about half an hour before curtain up - fortunately before any of the audience had arrived - when there was an enormous explosion backstage. All we could hear was Doug's falsetto voice screeching something along the lines of "You blithering idiot! I warned you this might happen. It's backfired and burnt his knob off!" This was all too much for Felicity who passed out on the spot. Luckily we had some smelling salts on the props table (at least that's where they should have been; Audrey please take note).

Let's hope that after all this excitement, tonight's performance passes off without incident.

Calamity of Biblical proportions

Well, it hit the fan last night. Actually, that's not strictly true. It would be more accurate to say that it hit Sylvia last night and we're now in a bit of a pickle. We'd just completed the song and dance routine near the beginning of Act II - which Thelma seemed determined to turn into a tribute to Michael Jackson (despite my protestations that you can't really Moonwalk to "I Could Be Happy With You" from Sandy Wilson's The Boyfriend) - when with an almighty thump, Sylvia was whacked on the noggin by a floodlight. Yes, the same one that I reminded Martin about safety-chaining here only yesterday.

Doug (stage crew) insisted on giving her the kiss of life, despite the fact that she was quite clearly breathing, and merely somewhat stunned. Mrs Gilhooley rang for an ambulance and while Sylvia was carted off for observation and Xrays - still quoting lines from the play as they removed her from the auditorium - we gamely struggled on to complete the dress rehearsal with Gordon reading in from the script and David weeping into his pint glass.

Other than that, it all went rather well. Felicity (playing Pawn the butler, pictured left) really excelled herself. I've never seen her be quite this good before, particularly in the climatic scene (which I'm still not altogether happy with). She's really thrown herself into the part and I may have to up my game a little or I'm in danger of being upstaged and that will never do. Audrey is still getting the odd fit of the giggles, however. David had to take her outside for five minutes during the interval and I assume had stern words with her, as she came in shaking, looking quite flushed in the face and unusually silent. It must have been quite a tongue-lashing.

We're having an emergency committee meeting at 2pm to determine exactly what we're going to do about it, as I'm not convinced that Sylvia is going to be up to going on stage this evening. We've never cancelled a show in our history and we don't intend to start now. We may have to jiggle the parts around a bit, maybe cut a little here and there, but the show will go on one way or another.

Incidentally, Miss Clark (one of the lovely girls who run the box office at The Playhouse) tells me that the bookings for Friday night may break records for our society and that seats for that performance are now at a premium. However, Saturday could do with a little boost, so if you were dithering over which of those nights to come, do make it Saturday, won't you?

Technical Rehearsal

Well, last night we moved into the theatre for our technical rehearsal. Gordon, Doug and team had obviously been frightfully busy bees on Sunday shifting the set from Gordon's garage to the stage and although they haven't actually finished building the whole thing, there was enough of it there for us to work with. I know the menfolk will be at the theatre this afternoon tinkering with their tools and I have no doubt that by the time I get there tonight Gordon will have a magnificent erection on his hands.

Getting into the theatre is always a tricky business because there is always so much to do and never enough time to do it in. At the same time as they are building the set, Martin (our lighting designer) is working around them, flying up and down ladders, putting floodlights up in the necessary places and it always amazes me that no one crashes into each other. Murder at Checkmate Manor is quite a technical show with a lot of lighting cues - in typical Agatha Christie fashion, including thunder and lightning! - and there will be lots of frantic action going on in the lighting box during performances. Martin will be very pleased, I know, to have Sarah to help with his knobs and switches. Oh, and Martin - you asked me to remind you that the floodlight downstage left still needs to have the safety chain attached. Consider yourself reminded.

The technical rehearsal itself passed off with only one or two minor hitches - I'm sure Mrs Cavendish will be able to do something with Felicity's best frock; Audrey didn't mean to pour red wine over it in the dressing room (I'm sure she's drinking too much again) - and, bearing in mind we started at 7 pm, I was quite pleased that we got finished by 11.15 pm (but then it is quite a short play after all). Mind you, there was a bit of dissention in the ranks at this juncture when someone asked if any member of the cast could stay for another half hour or so to help paint the set. Now, I am all for everyone 'mucking in' together to get the show on the road as it were, but sometimes it is important for everyone to know what their place is and to leave people to concentrate on just the one aspect. I mean, Thelma has enough difficulty acting without asking her to take up a paintbrush as well.

I still have one or two misgivings about the play as a whole. I'm not quite sure the authors have got the ending quite right. Or perhaps it's a question of miscasting, I don't know. Still, I don't suppose there's much we can do about it now - we open tomorrow night! You have got your tickets, haven't you? I can tell you that one lucky patron at each performance will win a prize, so it is well worth coming along just for that.

Sweltering

Well, we've now got less than a week to go and things are hotting up - and I don't just mean the ridiculous temperatures in the rehearsal room this week; I'm sure I detect a little frisson between Audrey and Glenn (sound effects).

Things always get a bit fraught this close to a performance as nerves and excitement start kicking in, and there have been one or two raised voices. Halfway through rehearsal on Wednesday Gordon turned up in his overalls directly from his garage where he and his merrie band of men have been constructing the set. Everything ground to a halt as a heated discussion took place with director David over the fact that Gordon had run out of yellow paint and wasn't able to get any more. Eventually, under threat of a paintbrush being shoved where the sun don't shine, David agreed with Gordon that it would look much better if he did use burnt orange beneath the dado rail.

We have our first dress rehearsal in the theatre on Monday evening, although we have been fortunate to have had most of our costumes made for us by the redoubtable Mrs Cavendish and team, so we've been able to practice some of our quick changes already. She's done a particularly good job of making Thelma look dowdy with minimal effort.

I should point out that, as usual at this juncture, Sylvia Frobisher becomes the harbinger of doom. She wanders around saying that everything's going to be a disaster, that no one is going to come and watch it, that she's bound to forget her lines etc etc. We're used to it by now, having gone through this lark with her for every single show of the last nine years with nothing ever going wrong before. This time she says that she has had the same dream every night for a week which is obviously a premonition of bad tidings. In this dream she imagines herself watching the play whilst laying prostrate on the floor, unable to rise, while her part is played by a block of wood. One worthy of Mystic Meg, I fancy.

We shall be without our prompt and president, Dame Vivian AuFait until the dress rehearsal on Tuesday night, as she always makes her annual pilgrimage to Wimbledon for the men's final on Sunday (she used to know Fred Perry in every sense of the term). Even at her age, she insists on driving herself all the way to London and back on her own. It always amazes me that the battery in her powered wheelchair lasts the distance.

Health and Safety

As D-Day approaches (have you booked your tickets yet?) I feel I must mention Felicity who has been beavering away in the wardrobe with Mrs Cavendish. Acting, cooking, pilates, self help workshops, costume design and dressmaking - there really is no end to the girl's talents! We did encounter a slight hiccup in proceedings as our communal sewing machine had not been serviced for several years. The needle required replacing but Felicity just couldn't get it out. Anyway, good old Gordon came to the recue and showed Felicity how, with a few quick twists of the wrist, it comes off in a couple of seconds. As I pointed out to him, he hadn't had it off in ages which would explain why it was so very stiff. At this point Audrey rushed out of the room screeching hysterically.

I really do worry about that woman.

So, machine fixed and costumes well under way. Although, we did suffer a minor set back. Let me just say - when giving vital statistics to the costume department, certain cast members really would benefit from attending Felicity's class on Body Dysmorphia.

Everything else is now rattling along at a fair old pace but there are still one or two things that need licking into shape. Last night's rehearsal highlighted one scene in particular - the dance routine involving Thelma Greenwood and Sylvia Frobisher.Oh dearie, dearie me! Thelma seems to think she's the reincarnation of Margot Fonteyn whilst poor old Sylvia is about as graceful as a giraffe on an ice rink..... in a wind tunnel (could the director of our Christmas Extravaganza, "South Pacific on Ice", please take note?). I fear it's the most serious case of miscasting since that very odd Mr Polanski put Pamela Anderson and Arnold Schwarzenegger together in the title roles of his disaster that was "Romeo and Juliet....Judgement Day".

I have to say that all our sympathies lay with Thelma as Sylvia continually trampled her underfoot (the dancing elephants scene from Fantasia springs to mind). That was until the moment when Thelma pirouetted with her arms flailing about wildly and caught poor Sylvia a cracker across the face with her open hand. It knocked her out cold and we had to prevail upon the services of a passing vet on call. As Gordon will tell you, Thelma is an incredible slapper.

All things considered, I'm very pleased with the way things are progressing. The odd little obstacle merely serves to re-enforce our Dunkirk-like spirit. In fact, as our director keeps saying: "There's nothing I like better than when we all come together."

Sleepless nights

No, not caused by the production, as of course that is moving along very nicely now that Thelma is finally book down and knows her words. However, it is fair to say that misfortune seems to be closing in on me from all directions!

Firstly, one of my closest girlfriends (a mover and shaker at Westminster) has suddenly found herself with a lot of spare time on her hands. An incident I wont elaborate on now. My Mortimer has never got on with her husband Dickie, so I made a flying solo visit to "The Smoke" to comfort her.

Unfortunately some undesirables have moved into our apartment block. Consequently my mission of mercy was shorter than anticipated as I got no sleep at all due to the terrible noises made by the man on top of me. This continued the next day as he and his friends re-enacted some sort of Cup Final in the communal corridor and kept banging their balls on my back door. On returning home I was horrified by the devastation caused by Mortimer's botched DIY attempts. The hideously tacky doorbell he had installed was really a step too far and I fail to see what he thought was so funny about the whole situation. I was merely asking him to screw my knockers back on immediately! It took me over 3 hours to clean the house up but it was the dog mess that I found particularly hard to swallow.

To top it all, I searched high and low for my laptop so I could update my blog. It was nowhere to be found.

Yesterday morning everything became painfully clear when I answered my front door. I was greeted by The Vice Squad holding said laptop as Mortimer attempted to make a quick exit through the downstairs cloakroom window - I've kept telling him he needs to lose weight!

It would seem Mortimer and Dickie have more in common than he thought!

Apologies

I can't believe that a week has flown by since I last updated this blog. They are wonderful things, but it's so easy to forget about them and if you forget about them for too long, the readers forget about them too. So I hope you are still there, or this will be a complete waste of my time.

We have our first runthrough of the full play this evening and we have started to use props on a regular basis. Unfortunately we don't always have the right prop, so we have to make do a little. For instance, a harmonica for a cigarette lighter. And an inflatable sausage for a bomb. Seriously, I'm not making this up.

I'm afraid I had yet another run in with a certain member of the cast earlier in the week when she flounced in 20 minutes late for rehearsal without a care in the world. It was possibly a good job I got there first, as you could see Sylvia starting to boil. You can always tell when she's narked, because she starts going red in the face and becomes very, very quiet. At this point, it is usually wise to leave the room. As, in fact, Thelma did, for her own safety.

We were pleased to have our lady President, Dame Viv, with us at the last rehearsal in the role of prompt. We did need to call on her one or two times (not me, obviously, but one expects better from Audrey). David was a little worried after rehearsal about the amount of time Dame Viv was laughing because Murder At Checkmate Manor is not a comedy. Gordon says he went through the script with a fine tooth comb and found just four laughs.

Mrs Cavendish is having great fun trying to sort out the wardrobe and keeps interrupting us mid-flow to get us to go to another room to try on this, that and the other. Mind you, trying it on is something that comes easily to Gordon. I'm sure he kept trying to peep in; amazing the number of times he had to go to the loo while certain members of the cast were in their undies.

Calm down, dear

I have never seen so many people so lost for words at the same time as at the last rehearsal. We were rehearsing a scene leading up to the song and dance I referred to last week between Sylvia (as Inspector O'Reilly) and Thelma (as Daphne). It's a very short, slightly romantic scene between the two characters and there has been an obvious attraction between the two characters building throughout the play. The scene culminates in the following exchange:

Daphne: My head's in the clouds and I'm floating light as a feather.
Inspector: Come back down to earth and tell me if you'll be my steady girl.
Daphne: Oh yes, Lionel, yes, yes.

The scene, to my mind, was working out quite nicely, until David asked Thelma to put a little more into it. The next thing you know, Thelma was almost re-enacting THAT scene from When Harry Met Sally and wrapping her legs around Sylvia's waist. Poor Sylvia didn't know where to put herself. Gordon suddenly started taking more of an interest in rehearsal at this point, however, and Glenn (sound effects) started filming it with his mobile phone.

Now we all know that, in the play, Sylvia is taking a man's part (not for the first time). But really, this was quite unnecessary and leads me to wonder quite where Thelma's true leanings lie. I mean, we know she's been having difficulties with husband Malcolm, but perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye? If not, it's possibly the best bit of acting I've seen her do.

And I've just heard from Mrs Newman in the box office that she's sold three tickets this morning. That's pretty good at this stage of the game, but we could do with shifting one or two more to beat the record set by our last production. So do give her a call on 01242 522852, won't you?

Farndale's Got Talent

I'm drawing a veil on the recent debacle concerning Gordon and David and wish to use this blog to vent forth a little on something not really connected to our current show but has really got my dander up.

All this fuss about this Britain's Got Talent programme. I have to say that I haven't actually watched a lot of it. Probably about an hour all told because I constantly find myself shouting at the television about the amateurishness of it all. Some of the performances I saw were really poor - and I'm talking about people who got through to the late stages, not just the rejects. And don't even get me started on precocious children bursting into tears because they forgot their words (not that I can imagine what that is like as it has never happened to me) to get a second chance. It was like Violet Elizabeth Bott in the Just William books ("I'll scweam, and scweam and scweam"). Grow up, dear. Mind you, I blame the mothers.

I also think some of the - admittedly few - ladies on the show could also have dressed themselves far better than they did, but I suppose they take their lead from that Amanda Holden woman. And can you believe that over 18 million people watched that drivel? I think that is a sad indictment of our society. And now that tedious Big Brother thing is coming back on. I mean, dear God, what lowest common denominator rubbish that is. Thank goodness for the good old BBC occasionally showing some programmes that require an audience to have an IQ of over 45 to appreciate them (I gather Dame Judi is making a Cranford Christmas special - hurrah!). I believe they are also filming the RSC's latest production of Hamlet but that will only get decent ratings because of that Dr Who chap being in it.

I think the point I am trying to make is that there is a lot of home-grown talent that doesn't get onto television and therefore isn't supported as well as it should be. It's not as if some drama group could go on that programme and present an excerpt from a play, is it? That's the beauty of live theatre. There's a lot of talent and entertainment on your own doorstep, but you need to make a small effort to go and see it, rather than just sitting down on your sofas and waiting for it to pop up on your goggle boxes. Like Godot, you will wait and it will never come. And no doubt that last sentence will be lost on most people.

More displeasure

I don't know why it is, but I sometimes think people deliberately enjoy winding me up. Perhaps they get some strange pleasure out of it. It has come to my attention that there was much more to the argument I told you about yesterday than met the eye. I had a phone call last night from Gwyneth Gilhooley to the effect that her husband had spent Wednesday night in The Bell Inn (to watch some supposedly important football match or something). He was there with Martin (our lighting man) and - I am still incredulous - Gordon and David! It seems that the pair of them staged the said argument to get out of rehearsal to watch the game! I can't believe they would stoop so low. No wonder Gordon wouldn't answer the telephone yesterday - he obviously thought I'd discovered the truth much sooner. Well, I wouldn't like to be in his shoes when I catch up with him.

Some of you may have seen the article in the local press a few weeks ago about our trying to track down some of the harder-to-find props for the show. We generally do this sort of thing for all of our productions, even if we don't actually need anything, because it's a great way to publicise the show at no cost. They charge an arm and a leg for an advert, you know. Well, this time, the request was genuine. In addition, David is insisting that as many sound effects as possible are done 'live' rather than by record. This is easy with regard to things like doors knocking and bells ringing, but less so when it comes to dogs barking.

As we haven't had much of a response - well, any, actually - Sylvia has suggested I repeat the request on this blog, as this doesn't cost anything either. We are therefore looking for a dog with a good loud bark, a Morris dancer's outfit, a pistol, and a cockerel that can crow on demand. It's possible that the latter may have to go on stage with me for one scene, so it needs to look impressive and be seen by the back row of the audience. I could do with practicing with it as soon as possible, so if anyone out there has a large cock, can they drop me an email as soon as please? I'm getting desperate.

It was all going so well

Oh dear. It all "kicked off" last night (I think that's the common phrase these days, isn't it?). I'm not sure how it all started but I know how it finished - with Gordon and David storming out of rehearsal before we'd even begun. Our 'on loan' director, David Mumford, is a very easy going sort of chap so I can't imagine he said anything untoward. All I know is that they were having a discussion about the set just before we started and voices got raised. Which was not at all helpful to Felicity and Audrey who were trying to learn their lines for that night's scene (Audrey has enough trouble learning them at the best of times). I was too far away to pick up on it all, as I was at the other end of the hall chatting through costume requirements with Mrs Cavendish. She'd been having great difficulty trying to find a French maid's outfit until Thelma said we could borrow hers.

I've tried to ring Gordon this morning to get the bottom of it all but he's refusing to pick up the phone. I know he's there as his car is on the drive. Audrey said that David was trying to tell Gordon that it was vitally important that the rocket can fly in at the end of Act I and that Gordon got on his high horse about not having enough budget and that "it was never like this when Reverend Reg directed, he just left me to get on with it."

We had to cancel the rehearsal in the end. It's rather tricky rehearsing without the director, although we did wait for 45 minutes to see if he was coming back. We're due for another session on Friday so I must try and pour water on troubled oils and get this show back on the road.

Dance, little lady

I was moaned at by several members at last night's committee meeting for not having written an entry on the blog for the best part of a week. It amazes me that there are folk out there who think I have nothing better to do when we're rapidly approaching opening night (in fact, six weeks to the day). And, lets be honest, the weather was so unusually good for a bank holiday the last thing one wants to do is sit at a laptop. Actually, I decided to take a trip over to Bourton-on-the-Water - possibly not the wisest move as it does get rather crowded with tourists. Mind you, I'm sure from the looks of most of them they'd have been happier in Blackpool than somewhere charming like Bourton. I came across a fantastic place called The Dragonfly Maze which is well worth popping along to if you happen to be nearby (and I said I'd give them a plug because they put a poster up, unlike that charity shop in the high street). You can read more about the maze here: http://www.completely-cotswold.com/bourton/attract/maze/dragon.htm

Anyway, I am digressing, and hopefully this will make up for the lack of action. Which is something that can't be said of our rehearsal on Monday night. We finally started to choreograph the big dance routine for Act II (you didn't know there was a song in this extravaganza, did you?)! This involves Sylvia and Thelma in their roles as Inspector O'Reilly and ingenue Daphne and includes some quite tricky steps and some striking poses, one of which you can see here. Of course, you won't get the full effect until you see it costumed, complete with hats and canes, and the special lighting our director has planned together with our technical guru Martin. It's only fair to say that Felicity proved extremely useful in helping bring this routine to life as the only one amongst us with any significant dance experience. In fact, young Felicity has decided to run tap classes in addition to her Pilates classes in September, and there will be a reduction for those ladies who sign up to both (and apparently tap does wonderful things for varicose veins).

We have another rehearsal tonight, so I will hopefully post something again tomorrow. Oh, and in case you were wondering - you were, weren't you? - the subject heading is a song title by Noel Coward. Although that's not the song we're performing in the show, which is actually by Sandy Wilson. Between you and me, I'd rather use one of Noel's songs, and of course we had a big hit with our Coward-Novello pastiche musical a few years back with We Found Love And An Exquisite Set Of Porcelain Figurines Aboard The SS Farndale Avenue. But I was outvoted by our director who says that the authors, David and Walter, have specified which song we must use. I always thought art was collaborative myself and that it should encourage creativity and original thought, but there we are. What do I know?

Displeasure

I am not a happy bunny (I think that's the phrase, isn't it?). It seems that yesterday's supposed 'ghost photo' is a complete fraud and Gordon knew it full well. Apparently our future ex-publicity officer, Cynthia, saw how much media coverage this Edward Jenner ghost photo was getting and so cooked the whole thing up with Gordon in an effort to get extra publicity for the show! I feel rather silly for believing it, quite honestly, although I suppose their motives were honourable. The photo is apparently of the chairman of the Deep End Theatre Company which, as you may have read from the website at www.farndaleavenue.org.uk has lent us a director, and had nipped in quickly to see how things were going while I was out of the room doing something or other.

If anyone would be interested in taking on the role of publicity officer with effect from our next committee meeting, I'd be very pleased to hear from them. I'm already stretched as chairman, welfare secretary and health and safety officer as it is.

Ghostly goings-on

Some of you may well have seen articles in the national press or heard on BBC Radio Gloucestershire about a photograph taken at the Edward Jenner Museum in Berkeley that supposedly shows a strange, possibly ghostly, figure. If you haven't, you might like to go to www.bbc.co.uk/gloucestershire where you can see said photograph. The snapper says that there was no one present at the time. I never believed in such things myself, until last night, when I received an email from Gordon, our stage manager.

Anyway, it appears that our own rehearsal venue may also have an apparition of its own. When Gordon was going through the photos he and I took on Sunday - and we'll pop some more of them on here soon - he found something unusual about one of them. A sort of blur in the corner of the room. He blew up this part of the photo and discovered our own strange figure, seated in a chair. I don't remember seeing this personage there at all. Mysterious, isn't it? And he certainly looks very strange. Gordon is off to the Gloucestershire Echo to see if they want to run this story. Here's the part of the photo we're talking about.

Which also reminded me that The Playhouse, where we will be presenting our forthcoming production of Murder at Checkmate Manor - have you got your tickets yet by ringing 01242 522852? - has a ghostly history. That nice young man that runs the place wrote about it on the theatre's blog last summer. I seem to recall something about wrist slitting. Or was that just my wishful thinking while I was reading it?

Disturbing news

A most disturbing situation has arisen.

As many of you know, advance bookings for our summer production have gone throught the roof. We believe this is due to the fact that our little show has been featured in a National – though somewhat obscure – publication (which I still haven't managed to track down!). However, following a conversation with a Mr Bo Locques – editor of the Single Mens Union of Titwatchers – I fear we may be in a bit of a pickle.

Apparently, Mr Locques received a phone call from an "interested party" informing him of our forthcoming production entitled ‘Murder at Chicks Mating Manor’ in which I would be giving a classic risque performance. Controlling my raging indignation (a performance worthy of Celia Johnson) I explained that the play is in fact titled ‘Murder At Checkmate Manor’ and I will be giving a classic "Reecesque" performance.

Sadly, yet unsurprisingly, Mr Locques cancelled the seats reserved for S.M.U.T. on Friday 10th July and I fear we may have to vet several of the other block bookings. In an attempt to get hold of any stray members I thought I would put this bulletin on my blog. As for the mysterious "interested party" that rang Mr Locques - who identified himself as Graeme Wodenholt - I have my suspicions!

Act I rehearsal

I thought you might like to see a photograph of last night's rehearsal of a scene from Act I. Seen here (left to right) are Felicity (in the role of Pawn the butler), Sylvia (Inspector O'Reilly), Audrey (Mrs King) and Thelma (looking rather bored with the whole thing as Daphne). This is one of the few scenes I am not in, so Gordon let me practice with his new camera. Not bad, I think you'll agree.

You'll notice that our director, David - whom Sylvia has christened 'Lord Mumford of Farndale' for no particular reason - has even started to get the cast working with props! Apparently on Sunday we shall be running Act I for the first time and he will be thrusting even more bits at us. There's adventurous.

And a little update from yesterday's blog and the possibility of South Pacific on Ice. I received an email from a local animal trainer, Mrs Ellie Funt, who does wonderful things with horses and has suggested she could help us produce a real spectacle by reproducing the chariot race for Ben Hur! I gather they are doing something similar at London's o2 Arena - aka The Millennium Dome (what a waste of money THAT was) - later this year but without our added sparkle of the ice factor. Who needs to travel to the metropolis when you live near Farndale Avenue?

Christmas Spectacular

We had an excellent committee meeting last night at which I unveiled my plans for this year's Farndale Christmas Spectacular - South Pacific on Ice! I've already chatted to the council about making use of that plastic rink they set up in Montpellier Gardens last year (why we couldn't have proper ice, I don't know; this is Regency Cheltenham after all). All the ice skating work will stand us in good stead should Andrew - sorry, I forget you aren't on first name terms like I am - Lord Lloyd Webber agree to let me have Starlight Express next summer.

A reminder to my fellow actors and Thelma that there is a rehearsal for Murder at Checkmate Manor this evening and this coming Sunday afternoon. I know no one really likes giving up their Sundays but needs must with Sylvia away looking after her mother next week.

One additional piece of good news is that our President, Dame Viv, has kindly agreed to prompt for us. As you know, Dame Viv has always been a great believer in not having a prompt and expecting actors to know their lines properly and, if not, get themselves out of trouble. However, this being such a wordy play, I do think this safety blanket is wise and it will be lovely to have Dame Viv at rehearsals, especially as we don't see as much of her these days now she spends five months of the year with her sister in Bridlington.

Welcome!

Hello and welcome to all fellow bloggers (I think that's the right term) and surfers of the world wide web! I'm only just getting the hang of this technological marvel but fortunately Gordon Pugh, our redoubtable stage manager, is a bit of a whiz with most electrical equipment (the exception being, so his wife tells me, the washing machine and the iron).

Anyway, if you've found this blog, you are no doubt interested in the Farndale Avenue Housing Estate Townswomen's Guild and it's associated Dramatic Society, of which I am chairman. Of course, some people - those politically correct types - would prefer it if I called myself chairwoman. I don't mind either way, but I do object to being called The Chair. I'm not a piece of furniture, nor a fence at Aintree. Thelma Greenwood will keep calling me that at committee meetings and I'm sure she does it on purpose to wind me up.

I'm digressing again. Sorry about that. Suffice it to say that I shall be making postings here as rehearsals progress for our current opus, MURDER AT CHECKMATE MANOR, which we are staging at The Playhouse in Cheltenham this coming July. You can get information at www.farndaleavenue.org.uk or www.playhousecheltenham.org and your tickets by calling 01242 522852. We've had a few rehearsals already, despite the production being a good eight weeks away. Can't think why we've started so early but then we do have a new director who has some really avant garde ideas. We'll soon stamp those out of him.

So, come back regularly for all the latest news, gossip, fallings out, requests for help with finding those difficult props and possibly even some photos!