John Fish B.Sc.
Publishers of Tenby in Wales (UK)TENBY PORTAL PAGES
A Mid Summer's Night Dream
(at Carew Castle)
"So she threw the script on the floor and started shouting, 'I
can't do this! I can't do this!' It was extraordinary! All the actors turned to
look at her. Her mascara was running down her face and then she just fell to the
ground in a heap. We all thought that she was having some kind of breakdown. It
was so embarrassing! And after that, all hell broke loose. Well, you can
imagine, can't you? And then ... And then ... then, something
marvellous happened. Roger MacPherson walked across to her, dried her tears with
his handkerchief (silk, I think) and said: 'My darling, you were made for this
role.' "Oh, he's wonderful! So refreshing to have a real professional
director for a change. With one simple phrase, the whole situation was
straightened out. After that, Emily played the part better than she had ever
done. A wonderful confidence he seemed to have bestowed on her. We really are
lucky that he agreed to do it. Well, of course, that's all down to Angus. Who
would have thought that he could have organised
Chris Lawler could bear no more. "Well, if he's that good, why don't you sleep with him. Roger, Roger, Roger - I'm sick of it!"
"I'm not his type," Julia replied neatly.
"What is his type, I wonder? A blond chorus-boy, perhaps?"
"How typically stereotypical! Don't for one minute suggest that all theatrical men are homosexual. No, I can assure you that Roger is certainly all man!"
"Oh, good!" Replied Lawler dryly. Why couldn't he be left alone! Why couldn't he finish his toast in peace! And if she has to stay, why couldn't she talk about something else?
"Oh, it's so exciting! First rehearsal in the castle today. Although we are having particular problems with Puck at the moment. Fancy giving that part to Sally Freeman in the first place! She can't act and she's certainly got no presence on stage. We're all agreed that she's an illiterate slut anyway. She goes on and on about her wonderful drama background and Sheila tells me that she went to an obscure private school in Cardiff and left after failing her 'O' levels." She glanced at the kitchen clock. "Hell! It's past nine. I've got to get changed. I have to be at the castle at ten."
"Well, I'm not stopping you," her husband snapped.
"So, I can take the BMW, can I?" This particular question was offered rhetorically.
"Yes." He slurped his coffee greedily, trying his best to avoid any eye contact. Just go, he thought. Go and get dressed woman, before one of my ear-drums explodes in protest!
"Good of what's-his-name to offer to pick you up."
"Thommo."
"Thommo ... oh, yes, that's the beery lout isn't it? The one who likes being thrown out of pubs. You really do have some wonderfully sophisticated friends, Christopher, don't you. Prince Charles is probably green with envy."
Lawler chose to ignore the comment and have a dig of his own. "So when is this great event supposed to take place?"
"Next Saturday. You know perfectly well that it's next Saturday. You've known for weeks."
"And I have to come, do I?"
"Well, if you enjoy having two testicles, yes."
"So, that's a yes, is it?"
Extract from Silly Mid Off by Dave Ainsworth
Published at Tenby in the Pembrokeshire Coastal National Park (Wales, UK)
As a Star of Pembrokeshire Series Paperback