NUMBER Two Dressing Room, the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford: my home for nigh on a quarter of every year.
In the dying days of 2017, it’s full of the debris of Christmas: half-eaten boxes of crystallised ginger, a perishing poinsettia, scented candles as exhausted as we are.
It is here, after the evening pantomime has come down, that the principals have been summoned by a sombre management. I am wearing an 8ft rat’s tail made of latex. Over the relay can be heard the hubbub of a still departing, still-delighted audience. The remainder of the company, in their sequinned walk-down costumes, are heading back to the stage, to be told in their turn the news that is broken privately to us: news at which Idle Jack, in his motley and bells, lets out a howl that can be heard across the river.
Theatre is, perhaps, the only real democracy. Backstage, not only are we oblivious to differences of class, race, gender, belief, sexuality, age or weight, but those differences are valued and, to a casting producer, valuable. Pantoland, especially, is a Utopia, a cocoon of unreality: Oh, the hokey cokey! and who can sing the loudest. In the twice-daily tinsel and dry ice, there’s no place for aggressive tumours, shattering announcements and unexpected deaths.
Bu hikaye Country Life UK dergisinin Januay 17, 2018 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Giriş Yap
Bu hikaye Country Life UK dergisinin Januay 17, 2018 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Giriş Yap
Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
