Fairy Tale Friday--Cinderella Pantomime

Hello and welcome to Fairy Tale Friday. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then I’ll begin.

From our local panto

Today we look at the Pantomime –that great British Christmas tradition. I have chosen it to follow musicals because a pantomime is an all singing all dancing extravaganza with lots of famous guest stars.

 According to Wikipedia:

A pantomime is a type of musical comedy stage production designed for family entertainment. It was developed in England and is performed throughout the United Kingdom, Ireland and (to a lesser extent) in other English-speaking countries, especially during the Christmas and New Year season. Modern pantomime includes songs, gags, slapstick comedy and dancing. It employs gender-crossing actors and combines topical humour with a story more or less based on a well-known fairy tale, fable or folk tale. Pantomime is a participatory form of theatre, in which the audience is expected to sing along with certain parts of the music and shout out phrases to the performers.

Pantomime has a long theatrical history in Western culture dating back to classical theatre. It developed partly from the 16th century commedia dell'arte tradition of Italy and other European and British stage traditions, such as 17^th century masques and music hall. 

I have chosen to talk about the pantomime because Cinderella is one of the most popular stories performed. So what makes a pantomime a pantomime and how does it differ from a conventional play?

Again, thanks to Wikipedia for this information.

Performance conventions

The form has a number of conventions, some of which have changed or weakened a little over the years, and by no means all of which are obligatory.

The leading male juvenile character is traditionally played by a young woman in male garments (such as breeches). Her romantic partner is usually the principal girl, a female ingénue. NOTE: I have actually only seen one panto like this in the nearly sixteen years that we have lived in the UK.

An older woman (the pantomime dame – often the hero's mother) is usually played by a man in drag. NOTE:  This has been true in every panto we have attended, which is why Cinderella is such good fun—you get two men in drag for the price of one as there are two ugly step sisters.

Risqué double entendre, often wringing innuendo out of perfectly innocent phrases. This is, in theory, over the heads of the children in the audience and is for the entertainment of the adults. NOTE: This is true in every show we have seen along with the most terrible, corny jokes that make me laugh like a donkey.

Audience participation, including calls of "He's behind you!" (or "Look behind you!"), and "Oh, yes it is!" and "Oh, no it isn't!" The audience is always encouraged to hiss the villain and "awwwww" the poor victims, such as the rejected dame, who is usually enamoured with one of the male characters. NOTE: This is the best part. You get to shout at the stage!

Music may be original but is more likely to combine well-known tunes with re-written lyrics. At least one "audience participation" song is traditional: one half of the audience may be challenged to sing "their" chorus louder than the other half. Children in the audience may even be invited on stage to sing along with members of the cast.

The animal, played by an actor in "animal skin" or animal costume. It is often a pantomime horse or cow (though could even be a camel if appropriate to the setting), played by two actors in a single costume, one as the head and front legs, the other as the body and back legs.

The good fairy enters from stage right (from the audience's point of view this is on the left) and the villain enters from stage left (right from the point of view of the audience). This convention goes back to the medieval mystery plays, where the right side of the stage symbolised Heaven and the left side symbolised Hell.

A slapstick comedy routine may be performed, often a decorating or baking scene, with humour based on throwing messy substances. Until the 20th century, British pantomimes often concluded with a harlequinade, a free-standing entertainment of slapstick. Since then, the slapstick has been incorporated into the main body of the show.

At some point during the performance, characters including the Dame and the comic will sit on a bench and sing a cheerful song to forget their fears. The thing they fear, often a ghost, appears behind them, but at first the characters ignore the audience's warnings of danger. The characters soon circle the bench, followed by the ghost, as the audience cries "It's behind you!" One by one, the characters see the ghost and run off, until at last the Dame and the ghost come face to face, whereupon the ghost, frightened by the visage of the Dame, runs away. NOTE: Okay, I was wrong. This is the best bit. It does involve shouting at the actors but also some spooky music and jaunty dancing.  

When you watch a pantomime of Cinderella there are some features that appear in almost every show:

·       

   Cinderella lives at Hardup Hall. Her father has died, and she is awaiting her two stepsisters to come and join her at the dilapidated manor house. The house has fallen into disrepair since the death of her father who died leaving debts.

·  

      A servant named Buttons works at Hardup Hall. He is secretly in love with Cinderella, but she sees him only as a friend. When he comes on stage, he shouts, “Hiya kids!” and you have to shout, “Hiya Buttons!” or something similar. At our local panto, he is called JJ Buttons and he shouts, “Wayhey!” and you reply, “JJ!”

·        The prince and his manservant Dandini swap places so he can venture out in the world without being recognised. In it is in this disguise that he meets Cinderella and the stepsisters who think of him as a servant.

·       

The stepsisters wear increasingly outrageous outfits as the show progresses. In every show we ever seen of Cinderella, they have also picked out a poor man on the front row and flirted with him outrageously.

Cinderella being "tested" by the Good Fairy in disguise to see if she is generous and kind and deserving of help. She is. 

·       

Buttons try to cheer Cinders up by dressing her for the ball with a colander on her head for a crown, 14 carrots on a string for a 14 caret necklace and a clothes horse to pull an imaginary coach before she gets transformed by the Good Fairy.

Real ponies are often used in as a "walk on" to pull Cinderella's coach. (I don't like this bit from an animal welfare standpoint) 

The rest is as you would expect—abuse, redemption, a ball and a slipper, a midnight curfew, and a wedding. The cast is also riddled with famous actors taking the lead roles. At our local panto, they are more local famous people, but famous people nonetheless. 

Here are some scenes from a panto version of Cinderella. It was filmed live for TV and is full of famous faces that sadly my American friends will not recognise, but my British ones will. 

This is an introduction to Cinderella, Buttons and the evil stepmother.

Meeting the ugly stepsisters and the real Dandini. 

Cinderella's "test" (in this one the Good Fairy is played by gay icon Julian Clary) and the Prince and Dandini swap places. 

The Prince in disguise meets Cinderella in the woods, the stepsisters wear some ridiculous outfits, and Cinderella thinks she is prevented from going to the ball.

Buttons tries to cheer Cinders up, the good fairy transforms her rags to a ball gown and a real pony appears to pull her coach. 

At the ball Cinderella and the Prince dance, fall in love and kiss and then she runs away at midnight.

Slapstick with the ugly stepsisters which involves hanging wallpaper. 

Trying on the slipper and a marriage proposal.

That's all for this week, stay tuned next week for a gender bending Cinderella. 

Lights....Camera...ACTION!

Well.

This will be interesting.

It was meant to be a post showing off my new Action Dress™ and ends up being a post that explains why I have been out of action for the last six days.

It wasn't supposed to be *that* kind of action. Sigh....

OK, the first question I kept getting is What in the world is an Action Dress™?

Well, I am glad you asked. Let's just begin with the history of me, shall we?

I have always preferred dresses. I like the freedom of movement they give you. They are cooler in sweltering summers and look great with tights and boots in the depths of winter.

As a child I liked wearing them but only if I wore shorts underneath so boys couldn't see my panties as I flipped on the monkey bars.

Even then I was an aspiring Action Grrrl.

When Spiderman and I spent three months as exchange students in 1990 on the LC/MC programme, I packed three long skirts (a black, a tan and a blue floral) lots of heavy sweaters and coordinating long john bottoms to wear under my dresses for warmth(oatmeal, red and bright blue).  I wore my skirts with either ankle boots or Converse high tops.

It may have not been fashionable, but it was comfortable.

These days as Quaker embracing the Testimony of Simplicity and rejecting sweatshop made clothes that make me spend too long obsessing on my appearance, I opt for a comfortable solid coloured dress with a practical apron in a lovely patterned fabric on top. The apron helps keep my clothes clean and has 2 massive pockets to keep all my bits and bobs (hankies, lip balm, prayer beads, asthma inhaler etc. the important stuff.) Plus I sewed them all myself.

I like these clothes. They suit me. I wear them with trainers (tennis shoes for my American peeps) and I get along just fine. I can wear these dresses anywhere.

Indeed I have. I have worn them to weddings, to funerals, to the theatre, on hikes up a mountain.

Normally, hiking doesn't matter. I just hoick it up slightly  if I need to go uphill. But last month we did a hike to a spectacularly waterfall and i had a little trouble crossing the river walking like an awkward crab over the wet uneven stones. I had a vision of me falling and tearing my thin fabric dress and it got me thinking.

What I needed was an Action Dress™. A dress made of heavy duty fabric. A dress that didn't matter if it got muddy.  A dress for action.

But why not just buy a pair of jeans like a normal person? my mother asked.

Clearly she doesn't know me at all.

Have you not paid attention for the last 48 years????

I hate jeans. All my life I tried to like jeans because jeans were cool and I just hated them. Every pair of jeans I have ever owned felt like they are slicing me in two and giving my vagina a wedgie. (Just try to get *that* image out of your head..mwa ha ha!) These days, since the Horrible Hysterectomy jeans (or any trousers with a zip in front) make my scar hurt like Voldemort is near.

That's why.

I decided I wanted to make an Action Dress™ out of some heavy retro curtain fabric my friend Susie gave me when she cleaned out her loft before she moved away. I wanted to make it like dungarees (overalls to my American peeps) at the top with side slits so no hoicking would be needed for uphill. I could wear action leggings underneath like I wear for exercise to provide a little modesty.

But mainly I wanted to look like someone out of Bananarama.

I am an 80's girl at heart.

So I made a spectacular dress for running, jumping, climbing mountains.

Then I met a lovely vegan named Nicky who offered to take some action shots of me in the dress.

Here is where the INCIDENT happened.

BI (Before Incident) Nicky and I had a delicious meal at The Warren and then toddled over to the park. We were having a good time. I was laughing and messing about on the exercise equipment.

I am pretending to be chased by a T-Rex here.

I am pretending to be Atlas holding up the world here.

Here I am a weathered old salt of a sea captain driving his boat. I love how my hair is spiked up by the wind to look like I am a parrot. It fits with the who sea captain/pirate motif.

I notice I am pulling faces in every picture. I am sure i didn't communicate any of this inner monologue about who my character was with Nicky. She must have wondered what in the world I was doing.

Then Nicky suggested  something.
"
Her: Why don't we go to the stone circle and have you jump off?
(her inner monologue:  that will make a great action shot.)
Me: Yeah! Let's do it! That will be awesome.
(my inner monologue: Yeah! That sounds fun. I'll make sure to leap really high and wave and pump my arms as i jump off this here shoulder-high rock that is wet from when it rained earlier and land on this grassy slope. What could possibly go wrong?)
(what SHOULD have been my inner monologue: Oh hell no. What are you thinking? You have a bad back? What if you fall? What if you land funny? Do NOT do this!!!)

First, let me say I have done many stupid things in my life. Too many to count. But this--of all the dumbass things I have ever done--ranks in the top ten. Possibly top five.

OK, who am I kidding? Top two.

I gleefully, like a small child, ran up the steps and did an epic leap complete with what was meant to be air guitar and then crashed HARD on the wet  grass right on my coccyx. The impact was so astonishingly painful that I could do nothing but pant and cry.

And swear. I said the F word about a dozen times. I am not proud of this. But it really hurt like f*ck.

The impact would have definitely been enough to shatter my coccyx and snap it completely off of my sacrum (see illustration above) had I not already had the pleasure of doing that in 1998 running down our highly polished wooden floors in my sock feet to quickly grab a drink between the commercial break of Law and Order.

So I suppose, lucky for me, it was already broken. Because for the last twenty years i have had chronic back pain and trouble sitting. I KNEW better than to leap off of some high object because LEAPING always results in LANDING and usually that mean landing BADLY.

But, in the excitement of the moment I felt like a kid again and I was having fun and I forgot for a few crucial moments that I have a weak, middle aged body with a broken coccyx.

AI (After Incident) a horrified Nicky (who I think in her wildest dreams never imagined things could go quite so pear shaped) helped me walk home while I sobbed and dry heaved and tried to reassure her I would be fine.

I got upstairs (oh yes...we live in a first floor flat which has 1.5 flights of stairs) and took some codeine and put some ice on my back and cried my little heart out over my stupidity.

My friend Laura (also in the broken coccyx club) bought me some topical pain relief creams like Ibuprofen Gel and left them downstairs for Spiderman to bring up when he got home from work.

It has taken me three days to type this as it involves sitting and my back currently doesn't like sitting.

But someday again it will. I will always have chronic pain. You can't have a broken coccyx without it. But it will get better. I have good days and bad days. This has been a couple of bad days, but after a few months they will be good days again.

But in the future I will resign my actions in my Action Dress™ to running, jumping climbing mountains.

Or maybe just walking. Or standing still. Sigh....

Beware the Terrier Men...

On New Year's day the Carmarthenshire hunt rides through town like a parade resplendent in their posh outfits, on their horses, with their hounds and make a show of themselves before going off to slaughter innocent creatures.

Did I mention there is alcohol involved? Yeah....pubs give away free drinks to riders (shouldn't that be illegal? You can't drive a car intoxicated, but apparently you can ride a horse) and they strut about like toffs and every year we are there with signs to register our protest.

I went last year on my own and found the whole experience unsettling. You can read about it here if you need to refresh your memory or if you need more factual information about the laws governing hunting in the UK:

http://spidergrrlvstheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/be-change-you-wish-to-see-in-world.html

Last year it seemed so frightening. There seemed so few of us compared to the riders and the dogs were running everywhere and it was chaos. Someone serving drinks dropped the tray and broken glass went everywhere and there was lots of tension.

But this year was different.

Now that the Carmarthen Vegans have a page on facebook we gets lots more people turning up to things. Ah....the power of social media. we advertised and lo and behold! 15 vegan came out to the demo (I was the only one last year) from as far away as Pembrokeshire.  Just the vegans this year was nearly the total of protesters last year. There were others there from the League Against Cruel Sports and West Wales Animal Aid.  In total were we nearly 40.

Which may be how the troubles began.

Last year as there were few  of us we stayed on the steps of the courthouse and the riders took up most of the space up front. This year as our numbers were greater we moved into the big space and forced the riders to move to a less prominent position. The terrier men (in charge of the hounds during a hunt--strangely often really looked down on by the riders as lower class, uneducated buffoons only as good as the dogs they work with) were allowed to stand right in front of us between us and the horses.

This was definitely how the troubles began.

There *was* a police presence, but they were weak in handling several (but not all) things.

The terrier men kept jabbing their elbows sharply back as they backed into the protesters standing behind them. It knocked a couple of our people off balance.  They were spoiling for a fight. One punched our friend Peter in the face. Luckily, it was a glancing blow (Peter later said, "my granny could hit harder than that") Unluckily, the police did not see it. They were dealing with other aggressive terrier men at the time.

This is where I feel the police failed. They just said as they didn't see it, there could be nothing done, but gave a half-hearted warning to to the terrier men. Something like, "careful now. Mind how you go." which was not helpful at all.

It may have  actually made things worse as the terrier men were feeling powerful like they could get away with things so they then were pushing the horses backwards and the riders were spurring them to make them kick in our direction.

All the while we were chanting Shame on you! Shame on you!  and Keep the ban! Keep the ban! (currently the worst of blood sports is illegal, but there are hundreds of ways to get round it and still kill for sport.) Our current government has been very vocal about  lifting the ban and allowing full blood sports to resume.

Then one of the bystanders in support of the hunt hit our friend Elizabeth upside the head with her handbag. The blow was quite hard (we suspect her bag was weighted) and Elizabeth had to go to A&E and was diagnosed with concussion. The police *did* deal with this better. Took statements from several people both protester (our friend Arwen) and bystanders. A police and medical report will be filed but i do not know what will happen.

Most likely nothing. Which saddens me and angers Spiderman. He said, "how are the police allowed to get away with that?" You wouldn't say "we didn't see it so we can't do anything about it" about a murder or a burglary. They would investigate it. it is dereliction of duty to not pursue it (or pursue it in a half-ass manner) but as it was back in the good ole boy culture of Louisiana--your law enforcement are often part of the very problem you are fighting against.

can you see the nativity scene over our heads?

Strangely, despite the escalation in violence from last year i felt we were a better voice and presence than last year. Last year, we seemed small and outnumbered by the hunters that I felt our cries were weak and ineffectual. This year, we were powerful. We were strong. We were vocal but focused on the cause not personally insulting each other like last year. We took up their space and made them be scrunched up not the other way round.

I think they felt it too. This may be why the terrier men were so aggressive. They could feel we were powerful.

 The only real deep sadness I felt was that there were so many more young children riders on ponies this year. Many off no doubt to their first hunt where they will be blooded (the animal's blood marked on the forehead as a sign of their first kill) and that is where I feel powerless. How can reach the natural compassion of these children before they are trained to shut their eyes to the violence they do?

Afterwards we all went out of a coffee (it was freezing and raining--which was good. Rain will spoil the hunt) and talked about what has happened. Peter used to be a hunt sab (someone who puts their life in peril laying false trails and protecting animals during the hunt) so he said that a punch in the jaw was nothing compared to how it used to be before the ban where people got their teeth knocked out or legs trampled by horses while police literally turned away saying,, "I didn't see nothing"

We talked about ways to try to get the crowds to see what they were supporting. Did i mention the crowds? Hundreds of people lining the streets with their children to watch the spectacle of horses and fancy dress. But if they really thought about it--where they were going afterwards--how they would laugh and rejoice as their dogs tore terrified animals limb from limb--they might see the parade differently.

I had a very vivid dream about a symbolic drama that was choreographed to seem like a fox torn apart by hounds with red ribbons whipping through the air to represent blood. We are seriously considered doing it as a bit of street theatre next year while the crowds wait impatiently for the riders to arrive.

I was scared, but i felt brave.

I was there, speaking up for the voiceless.

I was there doing my best.

Do not sit and do nothing because you cannot do everything. Do something. Do anything. But do it.

Edited to add: all photos from the Carmarthen Journal.

Blissful Bristol, part one

Oh my stars. A person doesn't know they need a holiday until they get one and the  tensions of everyday life just melt away. It has been a roller coaster of a year living in Cymru. Mostly good, but with a few rocky elements to it. There were those very slow first months where I was I was unemployed and life was harsh and cold and I was dreadfully homesick, but it has picked up considerably from there.

Even so, when we realised we had enough money from my hours working  in the shop saved up to take a mini-break to Bristol--we ran with it. Then my lovely Mum wired us a bit of extra cash so we could eat out for a few meals rather than PB&J it in the hotel every meal. Thanks Mum!

Bristol by train is an easy 3 hour journey with a change in Cardiff. We left on Tuesday at 11:00 and by 2:30 we were nestled into our budget hotel. We chose Travelodge as they have really good prices, are a clean well lighted place and they had plenty of vegan breakfast options. We chose them in spite of their slightly creepy adverts where a person has a doppelganger puppet who does everything they do.

We quickly unpacked and went to explore the city. A funny thing struck us--we really missed all the bilingual signs. I genuinely felt Welsh and proud of my country and felt like a part of me was missing without the Cymraeg. 

Bristol itself is a bustling, multi-cultural city with graffiti everywhere and students whizzing down the cycle paths on their bikes. It was quite big and we walked about 8-9 miles a day just in and around the city centre. 

We scoped out the places we were planning to go as well as the supermarkets and then headed down to the Eat a Pitta. This little food kiosk was recommended by the son of a vegan friend and it did not disappoint. There were gluten free options (don't get the pitta bread or couscous)  as well as vegan ones (only the yogurt dressing was not vegan) so we had an *enormous* box of salad with picked red cabbage, shredded carrots, pico de gallo, banana peppers and gherkins and 6 amazing gluten free falafel with a blop of hummus. Yummus! We ate it al fresco and watched the beautiful city then got ready to go see  Arthur Miller's play The Crucible at the Bristol Old Vic. 

We both love this play about the Salem Witch Trials which was a thinly veiled attack on McCarthyism and this production did not disappoint. It starred Dean Lennox Kelly as John Proctor (you might remember his as Shakespeare in an episode of Doctor Who) and Neve McIntosh as Elizabeth Proctor whom you will definitely remember from Doctor Who where she normally looks like this:

We opted for the cheap but unusual seats on the stage. Seriously, ON THE STAGE! We sat in pew-like rows behind the actors and it was performed like it was theatre in the round. It was such an intimate performance as the actors were there--close enough to touch (I was *desperate* to pull some loose bits of thread off of the back of the Reverend Parris). I honestly don't know what the audience on the other side of the proscenium saw as so much of it was directed our way. We saw faces and expressions UP CLOSE and Reverend Hale interacted with us several times. We got to see costumes and how they were made and distressed (because costume design is an interest of mine this was fascinating to see how clothes had been altered and aged). It was clear to see up close how much finer the Putnam's clothes were to everyone elses--their wealth and their sense of entitlement went hand in hand. 

There was a real sense of being a part of the production, particularly during the trial scenes. Spiderman said, "Do we sit in judgement or are we the condemned?"   It was powerful stuff.

 The whole sense of the play was powerful with many scenes having all the actors on stage at the same time, sitting on benches around the action in the middle. The cast would quietly sing hymns to frame the action and add atmosphere. In the opening scene where everyone was praying for Betty Parris to wake, every actor was on stage mumbling prayers or singing hymns and rocking back and forth--except John Proctor who had his back to the audience and stared directly at us, without saying a word. i don't know what the audience saw, but but his face was wondrous to behold--a kaleidoscope of emotions.

With very little furniture--a few benches and some tables--the story was told through the powerful writing and first rate acting. At the end (spoiler alert) where John Proctor decides to die with honour--to lose his life and be hanged for a witch rather than save himself by a false confession and damn his soul--I thought my heart might leap out of my chest. The cast was onstage, everyone singing a hymn that rose higher and higher. It grew louder and more intense as he walked toward the gallows--an actual gallows. A noose appeared above a platform and the trees were littered with bodies hung as a warning to others. Slowly he walked towards the gallows--the acapella hymn swelling, a drum beating (which i thought was actually my heart) and Elizabeth Proctor says the line about He has his goodness now but all eyes were on John Proctor as he mounted the scaffold. He put the noose around his neck, the drum was pounding, the hymn was so intense as it was right there all round us and BOOM! He stepped off the platform into darkness.

I was just left stunned, opened mouthed like a fish. It really was made more intense to be part of the show not just an observer in the audience. As we were walking out I was remarking to Spiderman how well directed the show was and how i was so glad we had opted for the stage tickets. An older gentleman turned around and said, "Oh, were you on the stage?" and i proceeded to tell him what a powerful, intimate experience it was. After he walked away Spiderman told me that he was actually the director! ha!

If you want to know more about the production--click here for some videos about the show and interviews with the cast.
 http://www.bristololdvic.org.uk/thecrucible.html

We walked back by the moonlit river to our hotel and snuggled up for some telly and some crisps and salsa before falling into a  blissful sleep. Did I mention that Travelodge uses the same brand of really posh mattress that we do with the pocketed coils? oh yes they do and unlike some hotels with a lumpy, springs-poke-you mattress where i sleep all wonky and wake up crooked--I slept like the dead (to quote another Arthur miller play Death of a Salesman).

Stay tuned for day 2 of Blissful Bristol!

Life Below Stairs

One of the things I like to do is to research a period in history and write a monologue and perform it for the children in my school to tie into their history topics. This is the perfect opportunity for a gobby show-off like myself to use my talents. I have a BA in theatre and I enjoy creating a character, designing costumes and making props and acting. The children really enjoy it as it makes history come alive and the teachers enjoy it because I can teach the whole of the lesson for them and they get some quality writing out of it. I perform the monologues (which run between 25-35 minutes) and then follow with a Q&A with me in character and then a talk by me about my research. The lesson can take a whole hour.

 

I now have a dramatic monologue complete with costume and props for all year groups. For year three--I am Rose Peppercorn, an eleven year old evacuee during WWII (Britain since the 1940s), for year four I am Boudicca, Celtic warrior Queen (Romans and the Celts), for year five I am Anne Boleyn (The Tudors) and for year six I am Flora Spencer, thirteen year old housemaid to the Greenwood family (The Victorians).

 

Yesterday I performed as Flora and I have to say it went better than my wildest dreams. This is the one with the most complicated set as I had to have a full bedroom set up--with a bed (actually a padded bench), an ornate wooden chair, a table with books, a nightstand with decorative china ornaments (bought for 50p each from various charity shops) and a small wooden trunk. There were loads of props as well.

Here’s Flora with her bucket and scrub brush. I actually had to scrub the stage on my hands and knees for at least a page of dialogue.

Here’s Flora emptying a chamber pot.  One of her least favourite tasks.

 

Many of the monologues require me only to pace around a bit or sit in a chair and occasionally pick up a prop and do something with it (Rose does some knitting and Boudicca threatens people with weapons quite a lot) but this one contains considerably more action as she must be seen to be working the whole time she is talking. So during the 35 minutes I am seen to make a bed, empty the slops, polish boots, sweep the floor, scrub the floor and dust.

It also differs from the other monologues as it breaks the fourth wall and I talk directly to the audience, pretending they are there keeping me company whilst I clean, but having them hide when the head housekeeper Mrs Hughes comes in to scrutinise my work.

I tried to make it a mix of historical truths about life below stairs (maids often slept in the attic and were not allowed personal possessions, that days were incredibly long for housemaids--18 hours a day was not uncommon, that being from the workhouse often meant you were paid less and treated harsher as if you were less of a person etc) but also to show how the cleaning would have been done (scrubbing floors on your knees using cold water--Mrs Beeton, who in 1861 published Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management recommended “cold soft water, a clean scrub brush and a willing arm” as the ingredients for a clean floor). I also wanted to tell her own history so as she cleans she tells the story of her mother who had been a flower seller in Covent Garden until she started coughing up blood and died. How Flora, aged ten, could not work due to taking care of her little two year old brother and ended up in the workhouse--where they were separated by sex and she never saw him again, despite his tender age. That her attempt to contact the workhouse and ask to see him were met with a letter that detailed his death in the most gruesome of circumstances--he burned to death getting too close to an open flame in a fireplace.

 

I chose this because through my research I discovered that one of the leading cause of accidental death of children under the age of five at this period in history was burning to death.  Some of it was the poor families often had no fireguards to protect you from the open flame but it was also due to the development of cheap flannelette fabric. It was very warm against the skin and exceedingly cheap to buy and was favoured by many poor households, but was also extremely  flammable. It also had the unfortunate property of melting onto the skin so if you were set alight wearing it, you died an agonising death with the fabric seared into your flesh. This is the fate of her brother. I set my story in 1872, but it wasn’t until 1908 that laws were passed about fireguards and non-flammable fabric was introduced.

 

She spends much of the monologue reminding the audience to stay quiet and not be seen because she cannot afford to lose her position, even if that position is not a happy one (she is paid half of what the other maid is paid due to coming from the workhouse).It ends on a tragic note for Flora, where momentarily distracted by hunger she carelessly drops a small china figurine while dusting. She offers to pay for it out of her wages and begs the Mistress to please have mercy on her and not send her back to the workhouse, but to no avail.  It ends with her going to pack her bags, leaving without a character reference.

 

This was the first time I had attempted it with the actual breaking of the china ornament. When it tumbled out of my hand the whole audience gasped! Seeing it really broken certainly made it very real for me and I cried real tears as she tried in vain to put it back together again before pleading with the Mistress. A small unfortunate side effect of breaking something was that I accidentally cut myself ever so slightly. I didn’t feel it but as I came out for the curtain call noticed there was a spray of rusty droplets on my white apron and I opened my palm to reveal a small drop of blood and so had to get first aid before the Q&A. Alas, one has to suffer for one’s art, luvvy. A quick glance at Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management revealed that a soak in cold salty water would remove bloodstains.

 

The best bit was afterwards, seeing the reactions of the children who were completely mesmerised throughout the performance. Even the naughty ones sat transfixed and at the end the naughtiest boy of all came up and asked to help me tidy the stage which I found extremely touching.  We had a full fifteen minutes of questions for me as Flora and it could have gone longer, but we ran out of time. The  main question was--What happened to you? Did you go back to the workhouse? So in case you wanted to know the fate of our heroine Flora let me warn you that it is a sad one. She tried to find work but no household would take her on with a character (a letter of recommendation). She tried to be  flower seller like her mother, but in February the flower trade was poor. She decided that if by the end of the week she had not found work she would go back to the dreaded workhouse. She didn’t make it. She was found frozen to death in a doorway. 1872 was a particularly bad winter and eleven other homeless people froze to death that night as well. It made the papers and Mister Greenwood, her former master (who believed it was better for a girl to work as a maid than in a factory because factory girls worked fourteen hours a day, not comprehending that housemaids worked up to eighteen hours a day) read it in the paper, but didn’t even realise that Flora was among the dead.

 

So no Charles Dickens happy ending, with rags to riches for her. But that is what life was like for those in the precarious position of being poor.

 

Poor Flora. But at least the children will never forget.

 

Neither will I.

 

I could not have created the character without copious amounts of research help from the Amazing Spiderman  He found me books about life in the workhouse and books about the working poor. He even located a copy of  Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management  and read pertinent parts aloud to me in a posh lady’s voice. Thank you Spiderman, for making this period come alive for me and keeping me in fits of laughter to keep me from crying at Flora’s tragic fate.

 

  

 

 

 

He left it dead and with its head he went galumphing back

I was asked to recite the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll.  to year six as part of their unit on the Victorians. I was thrilled because I loved this poem as a child--especially the way the words were completely made up as if you could make up a whole new language yourself. There was a time where I was obsessed with portmanteau words (words made up of more than one word. An example from the poem would be chortled--a mixture of chuckled and snort and a more modern example from the fabulous book Room by Emma Donaghue--scave--scared is what you feel but brave is what you’re going to be.)

Do you know this poem? If not then here’s your chance.

Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carroll

 Anyway, I was all set to just recite it dramatically when I thought would add a sword to it for the bit about the vorpal blade went snicker snack. But then I went to sleep and the IDEA FAIRY came to me and gave me a wonderful idea. What if I could make a decapitated head of the Jabberwock to pull up on the line He left it dead and with its head he went galumphing back. Was it possible?

I started to look at various illustrated versions of the poem and then quickly made some sketches. I did a quick mock up to be sure if my idea about the head shape would work and it did. The next day I went to the market and spoke to the Fabric Man and said “I need to make a dragon-like creature. What have you got that’s cheap?” He rummaged around and found me this fabulous silver and black offcut for £1. It was a scrappy remnant but just the right size plus it looked like dragon scales.

Then I went to the Haberdashery Stall to buy some red ribbon for a tongue. I also had an idea of using buttons for eyes --the line is the Jabberwock with eyes of flame and so I was thinking yellow, orange and red buttons stacked on each other would give a nice 3D effect as well as looking fiery. Rose helped me pick out the perfect buttons and then I was set to go.

 I went home and using what I’d bought plus bits and bobs from my scrap bin managed to put together this magnificent creature.

Isn’t gorgeous?

I love him so much I just might have to kiss him on his scaly, dragon-y mouth.

I decided as he had been decapitated he needed some bloody sinews to hang down so I tore some red cloth and sewed it on. It looks gory but not scary which is what I like.

I know some people have queried why a person would spend several hours making something for a one second appearance in a one minute poem, but that’s not the point. It was FUN. It gave me a chance to use my IMAGINATION and the kids (especially the boys) will dig it. Plus, I am ready for when someone asks me to do it again next year.

I got so excited about the idea that I thought of making the head of Medusa for year three’s Ancient Greek topic but Spiderman pointed out I did not want to become a “one trick pony” and become known as the lady who pulls decapitated heads out of bags whilst telling a story. He has a point. I was still slightly annoyed by his comment so I thought about making a decapitated horse head to leave on his side of the bed like a message from the Mafia. But that really would be pushing it. 

So I’ll just stick with my Jabberwock, thank you very much.  I’m really looking forward to telling this one. It will be a frabjous day.

The serenade I am least likely to forget

I run an after school drama club for the munchkins at my school. Today, at the end I was serenaded with the most glorious graphic song I have heard in ages.

Happy birthday to you
Stick your head down the loo
Don't open up your mouth 'cause
There might be some poo!

I laughed as hard as they did and I was really touched by their love and enthusiasm.

Well someone has to be.

Wonderful, Wonderful, what can I say but Oh Wow

To celebrate World Book Day our school asked all different sorts of people--teachers, teaching assistants, the caretakers, parent volunteers, the sport leaders and even the nice lady vicar who does assemblies for us occasionally--to give a 2 minute talk about their favourite book just to show children that we are all still passionate reader as adults. There was talk of a voting at the end to see which book the children liked most. Well, with that thought in mind I set my sights on winning. Nobody can enthuse on books like me. FACT.

I made the obvious choice and talked about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Here is a transcription of my speech:

Anyone who knows me knows that my favourite book is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. This book was originally written in 1900 and is currently being printed in comic book format by Marvel Comics.

 

This was my favourite book as a child and it is still my favourite book today. I am an Oz collector and I have about a dozen different illustrated version of this book on my shelves. I even have Oz Barbie dolls! If you look at my water bottle there is a picture from the book.

 

Many of you think you may know the story if you have seen the film. Raise your hand if you have seen the film The Wizard of Oz? (lots of hands go up)

 

If I were to ask you what colour Dorothy’s shoes were you would say….(everyone shouts RED!) and I would reply WAH WAH! (annoying buzzer sound like you get on game shows when you are wrong) because they are only red in the film because red looked better on camera. In the book they are silver.

 

this is from The Wiz

But it is the story of Dorothy Gale who is whisked away by a cyclone and flies over the rainbow to the Land of Oz where her house lands on the Wicked Witch of the East and kills her. She meets a talking scarecrow, a man made out of tin and a cowardly lion and they travel to the Emerald City. And why was the Emerald City green? (produces green 3D glasses) Because everyone in the city had to wear green tinted spectacles to make everything seem green even when it wasn’t. That’s from the book. (puts glasses away)

 

The wizard tells them they have to kill the Wicked Witch of the West. Now if you’ve seen the film at this point Dorothy starts to cry. A lot. (does best whingy Dorothy impression)

           

“oh Boo hoo, save me. The witch has locked me in the castle. Help me. Boo hoo hoo.”

 

Well it’s not like that it in the book. For one thing Dorothy is only 7 years old not a teenager like she is portrayed in the film. And she’s not a blubber-box. In the book Dorothy is brave and clever and resourceful--she’s not sitting around waiting for someone to save her--she's out there doing the saving! 

This is a wonderful adventure book for both boys and girls who enjoy fantasy and imaginary worlds with a little bit of danger and scariness thrown in. If you like the book then you’re in luck because the author wrote 13 other books about the Land of Oz. We have the second book, The Marvellous Land of Oz, in audio library--so come see me on Tuesday.

I believe that The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is the best and most magical book in the world and if you don’t agree then,

“I’ll get you my pretty--and your little dog too!”

Ok, that last bit was a shameless piece of theatrics that is not even found in the book. I just happen to do a mean Margaret Hamilton impersonation. Well, I brought the house down. Out of 200 kids, one or two voted for The Secret Garden, Black Beauty and The Witches and the rest but  about 190 kids voted for me! But really they were voting for the book.

Many children spoke to me afterwards and wanted to know more about the book, the rest of the Oz books or to share something Oz related with me such as the fact that saw the revival of the musical in London. Because the book were written so long ago I believe all of them are in the public domain and can be downloaded for free on your Kindle or other e-reader device and so I am preparing a sheet that explains where to go and what to get for the children who can access that. I also hope to purchase a few copies for the school library--perhaps with some other Oz books like The Tin Woodman of Oz or the Patchwork Girl of Oz (my other 2 favourites)

Happy reading!

I am a Cumberbitch

According to urbandictionary.com a Cumberbitch is:
Any woman who has a deep fasination with the wonderful, beautiful, talented English stage and on-screen actor Benedict Cumberbatch.



That would be me. We ordered season one of Sherlock from amazon for Spiderman's birthday and whoa! I was blown away by the show. It is written by Steven Moffat (hereafter known as "the Moffat") who is currently the head writer for Dr Who and one of our other favourite shows Coupling. The Moffat is the man. The series was also dreamt up by Mark Gatiss one of our favourite actors and writers and all around clever sod.

I have always like Sherlock Holmes--we own the complete Jeremy Brett series--and I adore the Mary Russell books by Laurie R King where Holmes was a real person (Conan Doyle his agent) and he has retired in Sussex Downs where Conan Doyle left him raising bees until her meets young Mary Russell who is an intellectual match for him and he trains her and they work together as equals solving crimes. The books are full of history and feminism and Holmes and Russell eventually marry--despite the age gap--and each book is better and better as they enter the early part of the 20th century together. But I digress.

The show Sherlock is an amazing update to modern times--that all works. Watson is just back from Afghanistan (as Conan Doyle wrote him to be) and they make a marvellous team. Watson writes not a journal but a blog of their capers. Holmes' tendency to send telegrams all the time is replaced by texts. But he is the same genius--sometimes cold and unfeeling--matched by Watson's warmth and humanity that make this sing. And it does. The writing is good--the acting is good--the show is thrilling. We immediately ordered season two from amazon. Couldn't wait.

We have the annotated Holmes series of books and we have had a jolly geeky time looking up stories as we watch. I'm all for making a big ole venn diagram of how the books differ from the show--maybe next time we watch. Which will be soon, I have no doubt.

Spooky (but not in the Scooby Doo way)

We love Chris Priestly’s Uncle Montague’s Tales of Terror series. Fact. Some of that is because he our mate but most of it is because they are really good short stories, all twined together in a sinister way and told with elegance and style and will make you shiver in that pleasurable way that only well written horror fiction can. Last night we ventured into London to see a play version that was AWESOME and CREEPY and ATMOSPHERIC and WOW. It was in the Old Vic tunnels (in a slightly dodgy part of town) but the tunnels really are tunnels—these old underground caverns where the sound of ghostly trains rumbles over your head. The chilly, dank walls remind me of something straight out of Poe.

www.oldvictunnels.com says this:

Uncle Montague’s Stories from the Shadows

If you are sitting comfortably, then I will begin…

Based on Chris Priestley’s best selling book Uncle Montague’s Tales of Terror this new stage adaptation lurks in The Old Vic Tunnels this December.  Join Edgar as he set off through the woods to hear his uncle’s frightening stories.  But stories can’t hurt you because they are not true… definitely NOT true, right?  

Suitable for 8-13 year olds (brave 6&7 years olds welcome but you have been warned)

Sussex based OnO Theatre have been making theatre for young audiences for 10 years.  Their award winning work has been seen in schools and theatres across the country.  After this tour the show will tour schools in the southeast as part of a project improving boy literacy engagement at Key Stage 2. 

The acting was good and the use of props stellar. I love suggested props—a collapsible mesh basket with a wooly scarf attached—a puppet of a dog. A wooden trunk turned on its side—a tree that is forbidden to climb. An empty frame—a mirror of the soul. Antlers held aloft by an actor—sinister trees that seem to reach towards you in the darkness.

It was a cracking good show and a great adaptation of Chris’ work. I realize that it says Suitable for 8-13 year olds (brave 6&7 years olds welcome but you have been warned) but it was well suited to two 42 year olds who love intimate theatre (and this was—you were right there in the action so close you could have touched the actors.)  I’d love to see them get the funding to come to schools. *shiver*

The Bleak Old Shop of Stuff

from Metro.co.uk

I am thoroughly looking forward to this programme this Christmas for several reasons:

1. We loved it when it was a radio series called Bleak Expectations.  

2. The young girl playing Victoria (in the above photo) is one of my drama  students Ambra Lily Keegan!!!!! We are so proud of Ambra getting a part in this show as it stars probably EVERY favourite funny actor in England that we adore. Seriously, the cast is huge. I know it will be a riot when it shows over Christmas and luckily Ambra tells me more episodes have been commissioned so something to look forward to in the new year!!!  

But what is it you ask? Well a very funny, very loving homage to all things Dickens as we celebrate the 200^th anniversary of the great man’s birth.

The BBC says:

The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff is a new four-part comedy adventure set in the Dickensian world of Jedrington Secret-Past, the up-standing family man and owner of The Old Shop of Stuff, Victorian London's most successful purveyor of miscellaneous odd things.

There are characters such as the evil lawyer Malifax Skulkingworm, Judge Harshmore Grimstone, the Aunts Chastity, Sobriety and Goodspelling, the Artful Codger, Mrs Christmasham, Fearshiver, Servegood and Miss Tightclench just to name a few.

 

from suite101.com

If you live in the UK please watch this as you will not regret it. If you live in the US, sorry mates! It might come to BBC America if you’re lucky.

Happy Christmas!