The problem with being in a department of one, plus auditioning for a show when you don't know any of the kids, and trying to squish rehearsals into a crazily short time frame; means that a newly appointed and inexperienced Head of Drama could end up rocking quietly in a darkened room wondering what on earth she has possibly let herself into. Of course that didn't happen at any point. Definitely not.
Fortunately, I have discovered, once again, that I am mostly surrounded by good-natured, patient, talented and resourceful individuals that aided me in a pulling a successful musical out of my bum against the odds.
My partner in crime, the Head of Music; the very talented Miss Sarah Dearn, was a gift from before I obviously managed to piss off the God of Performing Arts. There was no competition, no bitchiness, many a hashtag and an awful lot of laughs. Amazing when you don't know each other at all. I'm assuming the fact she is now leaving the building is nothing to do with me arriving therefore... #coincidence Neither of us are precious about our roles. Quite often, Sarah would end up regrouping a tableaux whilst I was banging out the same tune on the piano for the ten millionth time. It was a beautiful thing; although as we were finishing each other's sentences in Sainsbury's yesterday afternoon, we both agreed that maybe the time had come to part temporarily.
In a fit of panic at the beginning of October, I realised that directing, plus fulfilling all of the technical requirements single-handedly could potentially either (a) kill me; (b) make me very quickly become a single-mother or (c) mean that my children would have to send postcards to my school in order to be able to connect with their mother. As if by magic, an unsuspecting and eager new Head of RE floated into my hemisphere and mentioned casually that he had taught some Drama at his old school and would be interested in attending a few rehearsals. Like a predator sniffing out my prey, I casually enquired if he had had any involvement in the technical aspects of any of his previous productions. Would you believe it - he had only a keen interest in Theatrical Lighting and Sound. Before he had a chance to say 'I was only being polite', I had cemented his name in the programme as 'Technical Director', handed him a poisoned chalice and made him responsible for the techy minions. Job done.
I was inspired by this success and deciding that I had nothing to lose I penned an email to the entire staff asking enthusiastically if anyone was harbouring a secret desire to be a wardrobe or props mistress, set designer, hair stylist, make up artist or front of house manager. It's amazing how an official-sounding arty title, a few well chosen words of encouragement and some kisses at the end of an email can manipulate poor, unsuspecting, kind-hearted and overworked teachers into giving up more of their time to the greater good. I was flying high - I had the support of an incredible team and nothing could possibly go wrong! Not unless of course, the lead performer dropped out two and a half weeks pre the opening night, but of course, that would never happen!
That happened.
That happened.
Year 8 saved the day. The 12/13 year old boy who was playing Mushnik stepped forward into the lead, and another 12/13 year old boy who wasn't involved at all, stepped in to take over his role. The entire cast pulled together to support them and they all worked crazily for the last two weeks to make it happen.
On my knees, I was ready for the inset long weekend last weekend and celebrating with a few well-earned vinos last Thursday night. The text arrived at about 11pm to say that Sebi had started vomiting. My weekend of lunching at Auberge-du-Lac, dinner parties and an entire Christmas shopping day in John Lewis swiftly became a weekend of rubber gloves and carpet scrubbing, greasy hair and l'eau du sick instead. All doable, as long as nobody else became ill.
There were various miscommunications with less favourite people during the Tech Run and Dress on Tuesday/Wednesday that I would love to detail but can't without risking being fired. I think that I possibly managed to successfully communicated my displeasure however. My own children at this point were catching the odd glimpse of somebody they used to call 'Mummy' first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I nearly allowed one of my form to stick a post-it to my forehead to remind me about Sebi having to wear a costume to school one day in the week but in the end I thought it could be a little conspicuous until the end of the day, so I left it to Zak to sort it out at home. Stu started puking Tuesday night and was banished to the spare room with orders not to use any towels or utensils without seriously sterilising them afterwards and under no circumstances to mix with either his children or his wife without the use of a surgical mask.
I realised on Wednesday that the show had taken over my life completely, when my work trousers burst during a lesson due to less exercise and more lard than usual; beautiful. Fortunately, I started puking at about 10pm Wednesday so would fit into them again by Thursday. Shame that Thursday was the first day of only two days of the show that had nearly killed me to produce and now I was possibly too ill to see. I pulled my diseased and broken body into work on Thursday morning after three hours sleep. I'm no martyr but I am a realist. A new Head of Drama that phones in 'sick' on the morning of a show would forever, (in my eyes too, I admit it!), be labelled as a flaky knob who was unable to cope with the pressure. No. Way. Fortunately by about 4pm I was better and able to eat a banana that got me through the first night. It was amazing. I was complete. I had worried and worried about taking this job for months and whether I had done the right thing or not, and finally it had all come together and was absolutely worth it. I came home, flying so high, and then my wonderful Nanny handed in her notice...
My Mum has this theory that not everything can go right at the same time. She always said to me that in your twenties you can have two out of the three following things being great but not all three: flat, boyfriend, job. She was right at that stage of my life and I transfer that to now. Mum, Wife, Job. Two out of three can be successful at a time but obviously not all together!
I picked up and carried on for Friday's production, putting this current problem out of my mind and convincing myself I would deal with it at the weekend. (Damn it - I guess that is now then...) My wonderful Technical Tom began to puke two hours before the show started but also soldiered on through. Stu and Sam were there last night as Stu's Christmas party was Friday. My wonderful parents picked the boys up from school, fed them and brought them to watch last night. Obviously Dad wasn't going to stay - so not his bag, so I reserved three front row seats for Mum, Zak and Sebi. I stuck my boss on the end next to Sebi as he has kids of his own and would cope, plus he was in and out sorting out front of house shizzle. Unfortunately a more and very important Deputy came in and sat next to Sebi instead. Now, Sebi is a delightful child but he also does a good line in death stares which unfortunately he has got from his mother. Zoe and I were sitting in the row behind watching in trepidation to see his reaction. He opened the dialogue with a light accidental kick to her thigh, for which she apologised, to which he gave a death stare. Oh God. He warmed up a little when she asked if he would hold his hand if it got scary. By the time he had had a coughing fit and she had confiscated my bottle of water to sort him out, they were serious bezzies.
Darling Daddy obviously had a fit of remorse/pride pre pick up and decided to arrive 30 minutes early to catch some of it. He therefore sweet-talked my boss into slipping in and letting him through the back door so that he didn't disturb the show. There's always one, isn't there...
Job done. Now sleep and re-integrate myself into my poor family.
Don't feed the plants. x
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