Friday, 5 July 2013

Don't Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Hawkins ...

Tonight, this night, right now is the opening night of the theatrically inclined TeenTwin2's school production of "Oliver" at the city theatre and excitement has been building all week. And it's not just excitement that's building, there are rival developments arising in anticipation, tension, worry, hysteria and emotional tears.

And that's just me.

Thing is, I live in a family of performers of one sort of another. The Man does his music thing, sometimes to 40 people in a pub, sometimes to a couple of thousand South Americans. Like you do, when you're a musician. 

And both theTeenTwins and the Tween have "walked the boards".... even if the Tween's was more of a sulky stomp. Oh. and now The Boy, aged seven, is apparently trying to rehearse a troop of classmates through "Gangnam Style" for the school's annual Talent Show. Er.


Whether my nearest and dearest are in Guatemala performing to thousands, at a Saturday morning piano recital in a gym, in a talent show or performing with a full band at both their 13th AND 17th birthday parties *rolls eyes*, I'm ALWAYS the sweaty lump of traumatised cabbage in the corner worrying.

I worry that something, anything or everything will go wrong. I worry it won't meet their expectations.  I worry they'll be disappointed. Or hurt. Or upset. Or let down. Or embarrassed. I worry they won't come out intact or, in the case of some The Man's more exotic tours, even alive.

I worry. And then I worry some more. Just in case.

Last night was the Oliver technical and dress rehearsal: TeenTwin2 , after leaving home at 7.45am, returned at 10.30 at night with the news that one member of the cast had been sent to hospital, another had been kicked out and meanwhile everybody else forgot their lines, their moves, their entrances, their exits and, in extreme circumstances, their own names.

I reassured the TeenTwin with old saying: "Bad dress rehearsal, good show" and, smiling brightly, there was absolutely no need for her to worry. At all.

Because I'll be doing it for her.


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