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?