Friday, May 27, 2016

I should be used to this by now. 

I cast it. I burst with excitement. I can't imagine a cast more perfect. This cast has been particularly perfect - so far - as they all obligingly told me their holiday dates and then all obligingly didn't offer up any additional rehearsal dates when we sent out the rehearsal schedule. With a cast of 21, this is no small matter.

This week. The uggh moment. And I'm a terrible person for being petulantly irritated by something wonderful cropping up for someone. But I was darkly irritated and indeed, I sulked. (I'm not proud.) And then got on to fixing it.

Couple this with the fact - and this causes me proportionally much more irritation than the other thing - that some good portion of the cast can't make this Sunday's first read through and both Fringe casts bonding session. 

Don't get me wrong. It's all for legitimate reasons. Holidays. Exams. Prior commitments. That sort of non-negotiable real life stuff that must always come second to our silly strutting and fretting. But it makes me want to growl like Aslan when he drove away Winter - and wasn't quite sure that Spring would wander round the corner instead.

So I am seeking consolation in music. Terrible Heart FM played Beyonce's All the Single Ladies which always puts in the mind of miraculous Yvonne / Miranda in our Tempest who (thank goodness) managed to conjure up some sort of wriggling dance routine alongside an excellent rendition of the selfsame for our Bard on a Boat show some good years ago now.

Then there was the child's school Glee choir final last night at the Assembly Rooms. Despite having heard the common song six times from the competing schools, I ridiculously can't remember what it was. Something boisterous and warlike. They got to choose their own second song. And some of the choirs were marvellous and some of them were impressive more because getting a bunch of kids to do anything in anything like unison is some feat. But in amongst the jumble were occasional hair up on the back of your neck moments. The odd peculiarly precocious solo. The odd moment of impeccable imaginative choreography. And clearly, some great singing. 

So that's it, isn't it? That's why I persevere with this daft time-guzzling mostly thankless hobby. Because the occasional hairs on the back of your neck up moment make it all - more or less - worthwhile. 


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