Three performances of "Family Matters" this weekend, starting in a school. I remember visiting adults trying to make us laugh at my school. It was hard for them. Even if we thought they were funny we only laughed if everyone else did for fear of being picked on afterwards for finding something funny that wasn't. And if it was rude we didn't dare laugh in case the rudeness was accidental and we got told off later. "Family Matters" is the most risqué of all my plays and it features a super sized papier mached sperm cell as one of its punchlines. I liked the Friesland School audience. I particularly like the whoop at the end and the girl near the back who clearly didn't care if she got picked on or told off. The school is quite a little drive from home so, after the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo fiasco of the previous week, I looked round carefully for any forgotten props before leaving. I always enjoy the drive home with the John, the techie. The show is done and we talk comfortably in the dark. I have an understanding husband who is perfectly happy for me to drive around the countryside late on weekend nights with men other than him.
In the morning I received a text from John:
"Hi Ginny, just for peace of mind did we bring the sperm cell back? I woke up in the middle of the night and nowhere did I see it. Then I realised I never looked behind the curtains at the back."
Realising that this was open to misinterpretation I read it aloud to the next two audiences and on both occasions it got one of the best laughs of the night.
The next performance was deep in Worcestershire. At this venue I am also blessed with the help of an old (he wouldn't mind me saying) chap called Marc whose lights, according to him, are older than he is. Marc is a tiny bit deaf. He has built his own lighting desk and he operates it himself. He has to because it takes both hands. Whenever there was a lighting cue John had to signal it to Marc. John himself isn't in the first flush of youth (retired after 30 + years of teaching). There was something very touching about seeing the two men seated at the control desk, John's hand gripping Marc's wrist to prevent him anticipating his cue too early and whispering "Dim the lights now!" from time to time. They both smiled throughout the show and added to my enjoyment of it.
Performance no. 3 was in Dunchurch: close to home and the venue for an earlier performance of Ten Days ...that shook the Kitchen!" with one of the most appreciative audiences I have had. John and I set off happily in the knowledge that it would be a good night. Then John received a phone call which changed everything. Worrying news of close family illness meant that he really needed to be elsewhere - though he vowed to stay if he couldn't be replaced. I rang James, my 19 year old other techie. Chances of him being free on a Saturday night were slim but miraculously he was and he got straight in his car, without pausing for food. This was a shame because he's a meat person and the hummus and lettuce wraps which were all that was there to offer him on his arrival nearly made him turn round and go straight home again. John gave a perfectly cogent handover and James said it would be fine. I tell all this as if we were all calm. Well, maybe they were. Personally I was more than mildly panicky. But a calm and unflappable temperament is an essential quality of a techie and I delight in the services of John and James whose sangs are about as froid as is possible. Every five minutes I asked James if he was sure he knew what he needed to do. Every five minutes he gave a sweet smile and assured me that he did. He was right. He did. The show went as smoothly as it could. I told the text message story and got a huge laugh .. sad that John wasn't there to hear it.
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