Thanks for the charming compliment, Fast. I am “comfortable in my skin”, apart, that is, from the obscenely-flapping bingo wings that force me to keep my upper arms well covered whatever the weather.
No I won’t desert the thread. Quite apart from discussions about the science of weight loss, I love the anecdotes that pop up, especially from posters who’ve been round the block a few times. No, that’s not a polite euphemism for those with a bus pass but anyone of any age who does interesting and worthwhile stuff.
“The sanest of the lot of us” reminds me of my days at King’s College, London. It just so happened that probably the college’s best drama company in the mid-70s was that based in the Spanish Department, when by some coincidence a bunch of very good actors happened to turn up at the same time. I was in five productions, including a 25-minute tour de force by moi toute seule, as tours de force tend to be. Typecast as an evil old bag called Francisca – a take on the evil old Spanish dictator Francisco Franco. I also became very good at prat-falls during a Lorca comedy featuring a sort of Punch-and Judy routine with a PhD student, a semi-pro actor-director who convinced me to push the boundaries onstage.
The character “saner than the rest” was the totally bonkers, 80-something granny in Federico Garcia Lorca’s “Casa de Bernarda Alba”. The play is about a male-free household where Bernarda, the tyrannical and clearly madder than a box of frogs mother, rules over her unmarried daughters. Granny is kept locked up, ostensibly because she is the maddest – or maybe because she is actually the sanest – of the lot of them. She wanders on and launches into a monologue about having just given birth to a little lamb (a cushion wrapped in a blanket). More typecasting – nice but off-her-head old woman. I was 38, which to your average undergrad or normal-age post-grad, is antideluvian. Anyway, my acting was good enough to merit a mention in my official reference from the uni. “Actress of great power and personality”, it said. Shame I took notice of the teachers at school who said drama school wasn’t for fat little girls with horrible voices. The so-called horrible voice was deep and husky – sort of Judi Dench-ish. I wonder if the wonderful Dame J was ever advised to see a doctor about her throat, as I was. The mean buggers wouldn’t even allow me to read the lesson in school assembly.
The St John’s Wort has helped in the past and I’m already taking a multi-vitamin as well as a separate daily dose of Vitamin D3, possibly not quite enough but I’ll check.
4:50 pm
31 Jan 16