Friday, 11 April 2014

Picture the scene...

In us new strolling players strolled.

Ted looking for all the world
normal and natural.
Me at first glance and with a following
wind could, just could, 
only just, mind, be taken
for a geography teacher.
You know the one...
hairy legs,
dirndl skirt
prickly chin
stout legs in sensible shoes.
On opening my mouth that illusion
is quickly scotched.
Then with all their senses aquiver
they try, oh how hard they try to
ram this very round peg into a square hole:
after 30 seconds tops, they then give up
and from then on blank me.

Never short of confidence, I fend off their
disapproving looks with the ability
of a very efficient heat shield.
I've hammed it up all my life...
no reason to stop now, when I'm only a 
whisker away from getting my equity card.

No parts allocated yet...
Will mine be Lady Myvanwy or
Bet leaning her bosoms on the fence
chatting as she
pegs out her drawers?


  1. I can just picture the scene! I wait with baited breath to see which, if any part you have been given!

    1. Another rehearsal tonight and still no parts offered... curtain pulling becomes ever more appealing!


  2. I'd plump for a Les Dawson hefting his bosoms role every time, far more interesting.

    1. Trouble is woolly dog, it's... oh so close to home! Added to which, my bosooms have appeared in too many productions in the past... at one point they even had their own fan club... many moons ago admittedly...


  3. I hate to be pigeon-holed too - but surely many plays are full of endearingly eccentric roles waiting to be filled? One thing - just what does a hairy-legged geography teacher sound like these days? I seem to remember that mine was quite posh, like Margaret Rutherford.

    1. My life Nilly is one played out by an eccentric batty old broad... Life imitating art... but wait, could it be the other way round? The boards of life creek as I tread them.

      Some geography teachers I'm sure must hail from the Thames. The uniform seems the same or perhaps it's just me? The topic of rainfall, population etc never did fire me with enthusiasm; perhaps that's why I still don't know my Andorra from my Angola... getting to Dartford isn't a problem though... getting out is, naturally...