Fosterian Magazine 1995 - Old Fosterians and Lord Digby's Old Girls

Satiated as we are nowadays with television, the movies, regional theatre,travelling theatre and the opportunity for the school mini-bus to whistle up themotorway to Stratford or London's South Bank, it seems almost inconceivablethat forty-six years ago I'd never seen any professional theatre, let aloneknowing who Tyrone Guthrie was. Theatre for me was the local postman asWidow Twankey at the British Legion Hall or the boys at Foster's School, on awet October evening, rehearsing a play by the author of what is arguably one ofthe most moving plays about the Great War - "Journey's End." But to me thoserehearsals were pure magic. From that night on I watched every one. I knewtheir lines almost as well as the players. I was never put to the test, but I couldhave prompted without the book! I watched in wonderment as the flats werepainted, the set erected and the lights positioned. I couldn't wait for the FirstNight. Then disaster struck. I began to feel seedy and was soon running a hightemperature accompanied by an unsightly rash. Matron confined me to bed inthe sick-room and sent for the doctor who took one look at his spotty patientand, with magisterial solemnity, pronounced: "Chicken-pox!" My worldcollapsed. I would be kept in strict isolation and consequently miss the show.And then it was that Mac thought of the Projection Room. If I stood on a boxamid the accumulated junk stored there, I would be able to see the stage throughthe aperture for the projector. In short, I would have not only the best but themost exclusive "seat" in town.And so it was. I watched technical rehearsals. dress rehearsals and all threeperformances. In my eyrie, high above the Hall, I was "lost in wonder, love"and even praise, convinced that a part in the school play was an honourearnestly to be sought after. I began in a small way, but that was to be expected.Marius Goring once confided to me that he got his first chance at the Old Vic inthe role of Second Fairy only because the First Fairy had fallen ill! I was cast asa page in "Twelfth Night." I would play the recorder while another lad sangOrsino's sad music of of love and the two of us would generally fetch and carryas pages are wont to do. It didn't take too long for Mr Palmer, who had theunenviable task of coaching me in the art of that instrument, to realise that I'dnever amount to much and was certainly not a budding Dolmetch waiting in thewings. So, it was decided that he, like the unfortunate Polonius, would hidebehind the arras and actually play while I merely mimed out front. I wouldrenew my acquaintance with Sir Toby Belch, Feste, Sir Andrew and the lucklessMalvolio several years later when I stage-managed a production of this play inBristol. That particular presentation is engraved forever on my memory becauseViola and Sebastian, the brother and sister who each believe the other to havebeen drowned, were played by a short ginger-haired man and a tall dark lady.Wigs were, therefore, the order of the day. However, when the shortgingerhaired Sebastian turned to either left or right the wig remained facingforward. The ill-fitting hair-piece was consequently cast into outer darknessoccasioning inappropriate, but nevertheless unrepressed, mirth on the part of theaudience when, at the moment the short ginger-haired brother confronted thetall raven-haired sister, Orsino had to say: "An apple cleft in two, is not moretwin than these two creatures."The next play the school presented was "Henry IV - Part One." Yours trulywas, once again, cast as a page, but by this time the wretched recorder had beensensibly consigned to the property box, although the unfortunate Mr Palmer18had, I feel sure, barely regained his sanity. I, "0 frabjous day!" had beenrewarded with a speaking part. To this day I remember the line. I'll do it foryou: "My lord, prepare! The King comes on apace!" Now, once I'd got it intomy childish head, suitably egged on by others, that the worthy monarch mightsoon arrive on a horse or a motor-cycle, rather than "on apace", it wasextremely difficult for me to perform my line with any semblance of conviction.However, in the event, I at least, felt my debut as "a walking gentleman" tohave been a total success and I eagerly awaited the next production, confidentthat I would be moved up the bill. "Pride," they say, "comes before a fall." Invain I scanned the notice-board where the casting announcements were posted. Ihad been passed over. "Crestfallen" would hardly describe my state of mind.Once again, Mac took pity on this stage-struck child and gave me a jobbackstage as producer's runner. I can't for the lite of me remember what myduties were and I can only assume it was a sinecure kindly awarded to assuagehurt pride. In all events, I was happy to be close to the action.It is only now, after many years of working with professional actors that I'vecome to understand how full of disappointments their lives can be; how full ofwonderful opportunities presented, only to evaporate at the last minute. Mostare out of work more often than they're in it. Like Mr Micawber they're always"waiting for something to turn up" and so they develop an admirably cheerfulresilience to the slings and arrows of the profession they love. I wanted a goodpart. I couldn't shine at maths or science; I wasn't much good at football orcricket or athletics or any of the things that endear a fourteen-year old to hispeers. But I instinctively knew that I understood theatre.By dint of perseverance, I got a succession of parts in one-act plays for theCommoners' Concert. One year I even wrote a musical sketch for that popularEaster-term event. Ernest Hulme always reminded me of it whenever we metand when I last saw him, a year or so before he died, he again recalled it with achuckle. I played a sergeant in one play and a rather nasty piece of work who iseaten by a lion in another. I finally got my big break when I was cast as JackWorthing in Oscar Wilde's masterpiece - "The Importance of Being Earnest." Ilearned my lines walking to and fro in the Projection Room and most of the junkfrom six years earlier was still piled high in its narrow confines. Almost thirty)tears later, when I was making a documentary for Radio 4 on the NationalTheatre, I watched Sir Peter Hall rehearsing Martin Jarvis in the same role and Ihave worked with Martin on a number of radio features. Contrary to Feste'sfamous observation "the whirligig of time" has for me brought in not"revenges" but a full and enjoyable life.Since that fateful evening when something mysterious drew me into the Hallto watch a rehearsal, I've been lucky enough to work with some of our greatestactors and spent many wonderful evenings in the theatre where I've seen somany brilliant performances. As far as my own acting was concemed, after JackWorthing it was downhill all the way. I only ever got to play butlers and othersbelow stairs, although I did once play Abanazer in a pantomime, but I left thelamp in the dressing room, much to the consternation of Aladdin, to say nothingof the genie! And when I was in the army I was cast to play the young man inEmlyn Williams' "The Corn is Green." We started rehearsals, but in the end itall came to nothing. Pity really, because I rather fancied the extremely attractive19