I THINK I have had my fill of the world of theatre this week after spending the majority of last weekend immersed in all things stagy.
Most weekends are filled with the usual humdrum life – shopping, washing, cooking, cleaning and ironing, not to mention ferrying the numerous offspring to their various activities.
So for once I was going to have a night off and go off to the north-east to have a girly night out with my mother.
Both of us have a love of musicals and so when mum suggested I might like to accompany her to a production of West Side Story at the Sage in Gateshead I jumped at the chance.
After getting over the shock of the huge cost of the train ticket for a short two-hour journey back to my home city, I clambered eagerly aboard my waiting carriage and waved the children off without once looking back.
Freedom beckoned and I was not going to give up this chance for anything!
I had armed myself with a stash of magazines for the journey north – getting huge pleasure from being able to digest the literature without having anyone pestering me to read them The Hungry Caterpillar again for the fourth time that hour.
As I settled back at my window seat (another pleasure you have to give up if you have small children accompanying you on train journeys, I have discovered) I pleasantly whiled away the time looking at green and lush landscape unfolding before me as the train snaked its way northwards.
My only blip was a group of raucous men intent on getting to Newcastle to begin their stag do jollies.
One in particular annoyed me as he set his phone to play music loudly to himself and his companion. Why do people think other people are interested in listening to their music?
Especially when it’s horrible washing machine- sounding Garage music.
Anyway, after a lovely meal and a nice shared bottle of Beaujolais, mum and I had a thoroughly entertaining time watching a spectacular show.
We both just managed to resist joining in with the well known songs, which would not have been the right thing to do at all.
The following day was theatre day part two.
Rather like Groundhog Day. However, this was a very different scene. This was the first time of seeing our eight-year-old daughter on stage with her Saturday drama group. For weeks she had been raving about it, learning her four lines over and over again while teaching us her ‘song.’
The day dawned and it was up early for a ‘technical’ rehearsal. It sounds a lot posher than it was – basically it was just a run-through of where everyone would stand for lighting and sound technicians.
And it was in a school in the middle of one of nowhere, which I struggled to find, just because it had a proper theatre with super gadgets like spotlights.
Anyway, after much calming down talk our daughter was ready for her debut.
The curtain was raised and there she was! But blink and you would miss it.
The whole play lasted less than 10 minutes, but it was enough to be immortalised on my camcorder, no doubt to be wheeled out at some birthday party or other, to her embarrassment.
I’m thinking of enrolling her for further productions and drama clubs. She seems to have enjoyed it no end.
For information on enrolling your child in drama classes visit Sheffield City Council’s website on: www.sheffield.gov.uk/education/information-for-parentscarers/at-school/sheffield-childrens-university/Learning-Destinations.html