GHOST WRITER

GHOST WRITER

Theatre at Baddow at the Parish Hall

26.09.17

Prolific, popular playwright David Tristram came up with his first comedy whodunnit “just to help out my local am-dram group”. And he's been helping amateur companies all over the world since.

I've been involved with a few in my time, but I still struggle to see the point of staging a play written specially for non-professionals. Even a village cricket team might hesitate before choosing a game which featured under-arm bowling with a tennis ball.

This “comedy thriller” is fifteen years old now; it features a playwright who is visited by his late wife's ghost. She persuades him to write a play, with not even thinly disguised portraits of their fellow actors, in order to “catch the conscience” of her murderer. Shades of Hamlet ? Yes, and copious quotation, too – the play begins with an attempted suicide and that famous soliloquy.

The multi-layered complexities and tortuous twists are well handled by an accomplished cast in Jacquie Newman's polished production. There are laughs along the way, a spine-chilling moment just before the end, and some excellent effects: the moving portrait, the poltergeist typewriter. A little more music might have helped to establish the ghostly mood, and to cover the passing of time in each act.

Roger Saddington gives a sympathetic account of the author, living alone in an attic bedsit with a closet full of gin and a drinks cabinet full of clothes. His landlord, played with style and wit by Tonio Ellis, is flamboyant Alex, who offers moral support to his lodger, and has a nice line in flouncing out of the door. Elvira to Saddington's Charles, the blithe spirit here is Claire Lloyd's elegant, ethereal Ruby. Jade Flack makes the most of the [allegedly] drab and mousy Glenda, while two terrible thespians are milked for all they're worth by Stephanie Yorke-Edwards as the surgically enhanced Frances, and Terry Cole as the bri-nylon-bewigged Hedley.

There are some very funny lines – the acronym sequence, for instance – but also some padding. The plot is convoluted, and takes some following in Act Two especially. I was confused by the absent suspect Howard.

Plenty to keep the loyal TAB audience entertained: ticking off the Shakespeare references, wondering who poisoned poor Ruby's drink, and whether the culprit will be unmasked before Old Nick claims her immortal soul ...

BRIMSTONE AND TREACLE

BRIMSTONE AND TREACLE

Theatre at Baddow at the Parish Hall

24.05.17

This was Dennis Potter's favourite of his plays. Famously, it was kept off the BBC for years, and this theatrical version was made to get it in front of an audience.

Forty years later, it still has the power to shock and offend. The callous abuse, and the nationalistic bigotry, still all too recognisable in our society today.

It is not often staged, so we should be doubly impressed that this enterprising group have selected it, and presented it so well.

The setting is the 70s – brown wallpaper – convincingly furnished, even if the lighting could more subtly have suggested the darkness of these blighted lives: “We live in the shadows...” says Tom.

John Mabey's thoughtful production benefits from a strong quartet of players. Jean Speller is Amy, weariness and distress etched on her face as she smooths the moth-eaten knitted throw. She still clings to the hope that her severely disabled daughter [a convincing performance from Vicky Wright in a very challenging role] will one day come back to them. Her husband – Bob Ryall – is sceptical. Drawn to the fascist National Front, he speaks tellingly of a dog in the distance, and of his nightmare of impotent paralysis. He is convinced that the ingratiating stranger who invades their private lives is “up to something”.

In Andy Poole's chilling performance, "Martin" has the air of a doorstep evangelist, with his easy charm and oleaginous smile. As often with Potter, religious references abound. There's a “whiff of sulphur” - the brimstone of the title – about this helpful saint, who offers a smitten Amy “all the kingdoms of the earth”. Luke 4:5.

The production has many telling moments: in the Glenfiddich-fuelled final scene the two men talk their fascist talk literally over Amy's head. Martin's reaction speaks volumes as Tom longs to go back to the way things were. The mealy-mouthed prayer is done in a stylised spotlight, and Potter would surely have loved the shocking “seduction”, choreographed to the folle farandole of Piaf's La Foule.

The ending, genuinely shocking, raises more questions about the events which precede the play, and the cathartic role of the malevolent Martin.

It's possible to imagine a funnier take on the play, or a more nuanced Good Samaritan. But this is an impressive production of Potter's savage parable, just as provocatively offensive as it was back in the more innocent Seventies.

Image: Barry Taylor

BULL/PARTY

BULL/PARTY

Theatre at Baddow in the Parish Hall

27.04.2016

Two new plays, both excellent of their kind, given polished productions by Theatre at Baddow this week.

Mike Bartlett's Bull is a relentless hour of bullying and paranoia. Office politics in a corridor with a water-cooler. Pinterish in its unpleasantness, it's an uneasy listen. You long for a twist, a turning point. Worm, tables, whatever. Never comes. Roger Saddington's Thomas just sits and weeps under the final acid onslaught from Ruth Westbrook's icy Isobel.

There's much talk of truth and falsehood. The harassment, the torment, the naked nastiness recall the worst excesses of the playground – several times referenced in the script - “we're not at school”.

It's Thomas's worst nightmare – losing his job, access to his son Harry – and maybe this is the key to the piece. We all want to hit Isobel – Thomas tries repeatedly, but, as in a dream, his fist never connects. He knocks himself out in the end. Isobel finds no sympathy, leaves the teetotal loser his single malt leaving gift. “When you wake up, a drink may be just what you need ...”

Four superb performances in Jim Crozier's confident production – the pauses, the looks, all spot on.

Saddington is a sympathetic underdog, maybe too much so – should we perhaps suspect that he “brings it on himself” ? Terry Cramphorn is a smug, unfeeling CEO. And Patrick Willis is outstanding as Team Leader Tony, a master of merciless banter, glued to his smartphone, casually sticking the knife in, rocking in his chair.

Bull. Bullshit, Bullying, and the Bullfight, with its carefully choreographed, pitiless picadors.

Followed here not by Bartlett's Cock, for which it was originally the companion piece, but by a much jollier affair - Tom Basden's Party.

More childish banter here, but much more amusing, while still keeping a satirical eye on matters social and political. Lots of argy-bargy over language. Joanna Lowe directs a well-cast company: five clueless twenty-somethings meet in Jared's mum's shed to thrash out policies for their new anti-capitalist party. Jared – a lovely, earnest performance from Kieran Low – takes charge, Naneen Lane's dim Phoebe takes the minutes. Nathan, in sandals and cycle-clips, the only one in employment, is played with precisely the right keen bewilderment by Nathan Lowe, and Vicky Wright is excellent as the sulky Mel. Roger Saddington – the only actor allowed to do both shows – is Jones, roused to fury by lack of coffee. David Saddington pops in briefly as the mysterious Short Coat.

It's like a long comedy sketch, really, but consistently funny, even if these characters are no more believable as adults than the awful suits in Bull.

HAY FEVER

HAY FEVER

Theatre at Baddow

in the Parish Hall

28.01.16

Coward's timeless comedy was given an enjoyable revival at TAB, with the hall of the Cookham family home successfully recreated with nice art nouveau touches, and some gorgeous frocks for flappers and flirts, vamps and grandes dames.
True, the moves could have been a little more stylised, the vocal delivery a little more precious, but the beastly, bohemian Blisses and their weekend guests were well served by an octet of actors, ably supported by the domestic staff: Pauline Saddington's Clara and Joanna Lowe's brave Amy, setting breakfast and dancing the Charleston despite a raging toothache.
Barbara Llewellyn was an imposing presence as the matriarch Judith, Terry Cole her long-suffering husband. The young Blisses were given excellent performances by Vicky Wright and Tonio Ellis, camping up Love's Whirlwind, pointing their bons mots and playing up to Mother.
Outstanding in the queue for the Japanese Room was Diane Johnston's Myra Arundel – cloche hat, expressive eyes and enigmatic smile – who “uses sex as a sort of shrimping net”. Jim Crozier brought a quietly urbane charm to diplomatist Greatham; Donna Stevenson was the dim outsider Jackie, Kieran Lowe Judith's “perfect darling” Sandy.
Some of the best moments were the duologues – awkward small talk, playful seductions, desperate breakfasts. And the parlour games. “This room isn't big enough for that,” complained Simon. How right he was – avoiding the furniture a real challenge here. But in Sheila Talbot's sure-footed production the pace was good, the comedy sophisticated, and the artistic temperament carefully cultivated.

Miss Llewellyn's photograph by Nick Milenkovic
production photograph by Jacquie Newman

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

Theatre at Baddow

30.09.15

I was only aware of one stage version – a 39-Steps-style spoof of a few years back – so was intrigued to see how American playwright Tim Kelly handled this most popular of the Sherlock Holmes novels back in the 70s.

Turns out to be Conan Doyle as re-imagined by Agatha Christie. Wisely, the hound himself is audio only, the moor glimpsed by lightning flashes through the french doors. The action is confined to the sitting room of Baskerville Hall, dominated by a huge portrait of the ill-fated Sir Hugo.

The familiar characters [less Lestrade] come in and out, leaving clues and question-marks behind them. There are six scenes, most of them ending with a melodramatic curtain line and mysterious music.

Dave Hawkes' hyperactive Holmes – crawling under the desk, jabbing at the forehead of Bob Ryall's dapper Doctor Watson – is an impressive “calculating machine”, excitedly piecing together the evidence. And of course he's kitted out with hand lens, deerstalker, inverness and calabash.

Very encouraging to see such good work from the younger cast members: Laura Bradley as the elegant “Miss” Stapleton, Jade Flack as Mrs Lyons, and Bruce Thomson as Sir Henry, resplendent in plus fours.

The plot, devoid of the atmospheric Great Grimpen Mire, sometimes seems preposterous, but the lighting [gas lamps fading convincingly] and the lively pace of John Mabey's production keep the spirit of the original serial alive.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

Theatre at Baddow at the Village Hall

03.06.15

Puck and the fairies are frequently female; Dawn French was a wonderful Bottom a few years back. But a quartet of lesbian lovers – “Jill shall have Jill” - is surely a first, just one of the fresh ideas in Jim Crozier's updated Dream.

No such liberalism in the Athenian trade guilds, though, where the rude mechanicals – a plumber and a brickie now in their ranks – are all blokes. The patriarchal society that allows Peter Nerreter's fine Egeus to invoke the “law strictly provided”, even in equal marriage, shows no sign of softening.

Modern dress all round, with colourful Romany-themed garb for the fairy denizens of the Athenian wood. Modern music too, with a nice original score from Owain Jones, and Daft Punk for the boom-box bergamasque.

The hard-working cast includes Barry Taylor's compelling, stylish Oberon, Diane Johnston 's Titania enthusiastically lusting after Bob Ryall's Bottom, with his lecherous bray. Natalie Patuzzo makes an entertaining teenage Puck, high-fiving the audience and radiating mischief. Liam Mayle stands out in the theatricals – an amusingly thespian Thisbe. Nicholas Milenkovic makes a poised, polished Philostrate.

The lovers are never an easy call, and there is little fun in their misadventures here – some strong performances, though, with good verse speaking from Mabel Odonkor's Lysanda in particular.

Moonshine's back-pack dog, Flute's smartphone, the disco dancing, the factory hooter and the car horn, the moody fairies and the torn leggings – all evidence of a fertile imagination and a desire to please a 21^st century audience. But pointless pauses and lacklustre delivery tend to impede “the passion of loud laughter” in this otherwise interesting and entertaining Dream.

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

Theatre at Baddow at the Village Hall

28.01.15

This version of the classic romantic novel focuses on the unsmooth path to true love of the Dashwood girls, with a little comic relief and a hurried happy ending - “events tumbling on top of one another”.

Pauline Saddington's production is stripped to the minimum – black drapes, a few nice pieces of period furniture, and a cast of seven, plus two supernumeraries who bring messages and shift chairs. A simple, largely static staging allowing us to concentrate on Austen's plot, and her words, which are ingeniously woven into the dialogue.

It's a strong, young cast. Almost everyone is dressed authentically, almost everyone is vocally convincing; no easy task with this polished dialogue. The girls – acquiescent Elinor [Sense] and headstrong, emotional Marianne [Sensibility] – are clearly contrasted by Helen Quigley and Donna Stevenson. The objects of their frustrated affection are the pale and amusing Ferrars [Nick Milenkovic] and the fickle, dissolute Willoughby [impressively characterized by Liam Mayle]. The attractive schemer Miss Lucy Steele is played by Ruth Westbrook, and the gentlemanly Colonel Brandon gets a confident, stylish performance from Roger Saddington.

The only bonnet on show is worn by Aunt Jennings, the voluble busybody deliciously done by Beth Crozier.

The music, not much of which would have been heard in the parlour at Norland, provides a lush cinematic under-scoring to the storyline.

THE MIST BENEATH THE SMOKE/TUPILAQ

THE MIST BENEATH THE SMOKE/TUPILAQ

Theatre at Baddow Studio, The Reading Rooms, Great Baddow

31.10.2014

Mary Redman was at the opening night:

Theatre at Baddow Studio is a series of productions of plays by local writers. In this case John Mabey and Daniel Segeth; both of them acting and directing members of Chelmsford Theatre Workshop.

To paraphrase the football writers, it was a programme of two halves, the subject appropriately enough played out on Hallowe'en, complete with fireworks right outside the windows of the intimate little auditorium.

Admittedly John Mabey in The Mist Beneath The Smoke had a somewhat easier task in that he was adapting a ten-year-old documentary in which people told their own stories. Even so he had created and directed a fascinating collection of stories including some astonishing facts and figures relating to the London Underground after hours.

Carrying over a billion passengers a year, the question is what happens when the commuters are gone, escalators shut off and a few staff patrol the lines and stations, often alone. As Mabey says they are “real life accounts of unexplained phenomena on the world's oldest underground railway.”

Mabey had chosen his cast well starting with Roger Johnson's sonorous voice as the Narrator setting the scene for each actor's account of their character's experience.

So Roger Saddington, Amanda Cox, James Oakley, Jesse Powis, Martin Baker, Bob Ryall, Terry Cole and Michael Gray told their gripping tales of ghostly and ghastly figures often seen in places where gruesome events had taken place in the past. They were joined by Steve Holding-Sutton as a sceptic experiencing something that just could not have happened.

Apart from being gripped by the accounts we learned about the technology of how the Underground with its 408 lifts and escalators keeps going or is shut down for overnight maintenance.

The production was all the better for being straightforwardly told without any great drama or melodrama.

By contrast Daniel Segeth's Tupilaq was overflowing with melodrama: James Christie's novice Arctic explorer faced certain death while writhing around on the floor in pain and remembering past conversations with Leanne Johnson as his wife back home. Basically he was learning in his naivety the sharp contrast between pure science and commercial interests.

With so much of the rather limited action taking place on the floor or sitting down sight lines were badly affected in the auditorium lacking raked seating or a stage.

This was clearly a work in progress as what you have written immediately sounds vastly different when you hear other voices saying your words. To me it felt rather more like a radio play than a work of theatre but we know that Danny has written other plays so a tightened up version of this one may reappear in the future, just like the Inuit's Tupilaq that they don't believe in.

photographs by Pauline Saddington

DAD'S ARMY

DAD'S ARMY

Theatre at Baddow

02.10.14

Dad's Army on stage ? I recall the Seventies spin-off, featuring almost all the original cast in a kind of variety bill of songs and sketches, and then of course there was the Leslie Grantham vehicle which revived some of the lost episodes.

TAB's offering is a more straightforward staging of three favourite episodes.

A brilliant opening, with the huge cast singing Mr Hitler and marching into the very hall where the real-life local LDVs drilled seventy years ago. And a moving finale, with everyone singing along to We'll Meet Again, led by chanteuse Mandy Oliver, whose superb solos helped to bridge costume and scene changes.

A company of twenty or more, including a U-Boat crew best described as motley [Liam Mayle their “insolent swine” commander] and a bevy of ladies for “Mum's Army” [Rita Vango outstanding as Mainwaring's Brief Encounter].

These are familiar stories, with lines and characters we've loved for years. Of the principals, Terry Cole captured Mainwaring and his dyspeptic smile to perfection, and in a much smaller role, Chris Piper recreated verger Yeatman with uncanny accuracy.

Elsewhere, the spirit if not the persona of the platoon members was affectionately invoked by, amongst others, Peter Eyre's ga-ga Godfrey, Bob Ryall's eager Jonesy, David Saddington's wild-eyed Frazer and Martin Baker's fresh-faced Pike. Roger Saddington purred through his laid-back “Jack Buchanan” Wilson, and John Mabey brought a cheeky comic energy to the incorrigible spiv Walker.

Inevitably, pace and energy were sometimes sacrificed to scene changes, and the subtle punchlines proved hard to recreate on stage, but nonetheless a very enjoyable homage to one of the best ever British sitcoms.

production photograph: BeccyPphotography

THE DINNER PARTY

THE DINNER PARTY

Theatre at Baddow

09.05.2014

Mary Redman was at the Parish Hall ...

In my eyes Neil Simon can do no wrong even if some of his plays are stronger than others. I love the wry yet forensic expert way in which he neatly skewers the all-too-human condition so that lines that get a laugh have a background of sad recognition. His way with dialogue is summed up with “If a mouse loves a maggot what's wrong with that?”

So to see this play of his that I hadn't seen before was a treat thanks to TAB/s production directed by Pauline Saddington. First of all the set. Once again a miniature masterpiece from the ever-reliable David Saddington whose motto is less is more. With a Paris restaurant of deep wine red velvet drapes contrasting with black and a minimally furnished set of dining table, chaise longue and sideboard with drinks and canapés, it worked. The double doors upstage centre allowed the cast to make an entrance as our eyes were drawn to them.

While acknowledging that it's a lot easier than attempting French or American accents I would disagree a bit with Pauline's decision to make the characters English. It is set in Paris and the characters all have French names.

One thing I did enjoy was the tinkling piano music beforehand which became Big Band later. Apparently the title of one number was Peace, Peace which is the last thing that emerges in this play. All the characters have previous connections in marriages or relationships brought together by a mysterious person who sets them there and leaves the mixture to brew.

First to arrive was Kenton Church's Claude sometimes conversational rather than projecting his words outwards. Followed by the theatrical treasure that is Bob Ryall playing Albert a car rental firm owner. An ordinary bloke, often ill-at-ease and clumsy in the upmarket surroundings, he sent his performance right through to the back row of the audience.

The final masculine character to arrive was Roger Saddington's sophisticated boutique owner Andre, a performance that pointed the comedy lines with aplomb.

Caroline Froy's Mariette was apparently in her late 50s but appeared much younger, her only drawback being a tendency to swallow lines.

Jean Speller's spiky ex-wife of Albert gave as good as she got in order to get her man back again. Helen Quigley as Gabrielle made an eyecatching entrance in a stunningly tight and clinging lipstick red frock and proceeded to sort out a few people in the second act.

I did begin to ponder why I felt a bit let down by lines that should have got laughs not doing so, plus flattened projection. This was the second night of the run, which is notorious for amateur groups lacking the energy of the first and last nights. Professionals know how to take this in their stride and up their energy levels accordingly.

In addition the stage at TAB is a tricky one for casts to project on because upstage above them is a void which voices can all too easily rise up into and stay there. One to look forward to is Dad's Army in the Autumn.

MAKE WAY FOR LUCIA

MAKE WAY FOR LUCIA

Theatre at Baddow

29.01.2014

The Parish Hall is packed for the opening night – testament to the enduring allure of E F Benson's characters, and to TAB's growing reputation in the village and beyond.

Jim Parker's nostalgic waltz to set the mood, and we're into the vanished world of 30s Tilling, with its quaint characters and genteel cattiness. Beautifully captured in Sheila Talbot's production, with stunning frocks and a nicely furnished drawing room.

Our leading ladies, Mapp and Lucia, are played by two fine actresses. Barbara Llewellyn and Beth Crozier are mistresses of the icy glance, the fixed smile and the courteous cat-fight.

The men in their little lives are Peter Nerreter's lovely gossiping Major and Terry Cole's Georgie, his performance as OTT as his toupée.

Some gems amongst the cameos, too, with Rita Vango as the gloriously named Godiva Plaistow, Sally Ransom as prim Mrs Wyse and Helen Bence as an elegant Evie Bartlett. David Saddington talks Scotch, Roger Saddington talks Italian, Alan Ireland is Wyse and Fabienne Hanley is the soul of discretion as Grosvenor the Maid.

Its seven scenes are nowhere near the four hours of Cortese's Lucrezia, but the show did seem a little long, perhaps because, on the first night, there were too many hesitations, too many hiatuses.

Excellent old-fashioned entertainment nonetheless, skilfully evoking a lost middle-class England of tableaux vivants and garden fetes, with at its comic heart a memorable cold war between two grandes dames.

Mary Redman popped over to Tilling, too ...

What a delight to return to a world where everything had its place, everyone knew their place (or thought they did) and everything was tickety boo. Until, that is, the rumbling in the dovecot heralded someone daring to step outside that place or presumed to assume leadership.
Such was the tiny world of Mapp and Lucia created by EF Benson based on his acute observation of the inhabitants of Rye during the earlier part of the 20th Century. It was turned into a gently amusing stage play by master playwright John Van Druten, of later I Am A Camera dramatic fame.
The pretentiously affected yet charming Mrs Emeline Lucas (more often known as the more Italianate Lucia) of Beth Crozier was absolutely ideal for the role. Terry Cole had a whale of a time as her companion in local skulduggery, the extremely camp Georgie whose blazers were splendidly over the top to match his manner while his wig had a life of its own.
Barbara Llewellyn took a while to settle down as Miss Elizabeth Mapp whose sharp edges and plotting almost, but not quite, defeated her rival Lucia.
Fabienne Hanley was Lucia's soul-of-discretion maid.
Master set craftsman David Saddington created the well-furnished drawing room and took on the role of the Reverend Kenneth Bartlett whose Scots accent was about as wildly misbehaved as Georgie's wig.
There was a star turn from the lovely Rita Vango as Miss Godiva Plaistow who introduced to the assembled local populace the Italian composer Cortese played with musical flourishes by Roger Saddington.
I particularly liked Sally Ransom's Mrs Susan Wyse whose disapprovingly pinched features were well-suited to this member of the village gang.
The numerous high quality frocks were mouthwateringly delicious adding well to the period atmosphere, although some of the handbags were from a later vintage.
Directed by Sheila Talbot the play, although delightful, went at a very slow pace on the sold out first night. In part due to the many costume changes and in part by line uncertainty on just too many occasions.
Next to look forward to a rarely performed Neil Simon black comedy The Dinner Party from May 7-10.

THE GOD OF CARNAGE

THE GOD OF CARNAGE

Theatre at Baddow

02.10.13

One kid bashes another with a stick. Teeth cracked, lip swelled.

The four parents meet to talk it over. The art of co-existence is lost, courtesy proves a waste of time. Battle fronts are re-drawn along gender lines.

Yasmin Reza's comedy of manners is very French, culturally and linguistically. Christopher Hampton's translation is sometimes sloppy [who says "a former marriage" ?] and the intellectual tenor of the conversation is alien to us Brits.

So it's enormously to the credit of TAB, and director Mike Nower, that this is such an entertaining evening. Nuances of pace and mood are handled with confidence and style. Production values are high.

It helps to have a cast who know what they're doing, of course, and there are excellent performances here: Chris Piper is the lawyer, clearly not a willing participant, his Blackberry forever buzzing, talking to big Pharma as he pigs that endangered species Clafoutis. His toilet fittings duologue with Roger Saddington is priceless. He plays Michel, father of the injured party – his hamster monologue one of many delights. His academic wife [Andrea Dalton] is nicely contrasted with Sara Nower's brilliant Annette, smug, polished, until her nerves get the better of her and she throws up all over the coffee table books – Kokoschka has to be treated with Mr Clean and Kouros.

The design [David Saddington and Mike Nower] is superb. Blood red wallpaper, the colour subtly echoed in the costumes and the props.

THE SHELL SEEKERS

THE SHELL SEEKERS

Theatre at Baddow in the Parish Hall

10.05.13

Rosamunde Pilcher's best-selling family saga, adapted for the stage by Brady and Bingham, is a big ask for an amateur group.

It has a large cast, it skips between decades and locations, and its emotional heart can seem elusive.

David Saddington's set was a model of economy, fitting the café, the Cornish studio, the beach, the Cotswolds cottage and its garden into a very restricted space. It all worked very well in Pauline Saddington's capable production, except that the patio doors felt awkward and tended to cast distracting shadows. [Perhaps cut off in a wavy line at one-third height, which might even allow for perspex in the frame]. And the ends of scenes, often with a line heavy with feeling, lost some significance in the frequent fades to black.

Not all the actors were comfortable in the easy middle-class milieu, but splendid work from Nicola Marsland as Nancy, who can't leave well alone, with Russell Everard as the hen-pecked worm who turns, and Roger Saddington as her brother Noel. The young people, who are also ghosts from the past, were Claire Lloyd as Antonia and John Mabey as the gardener Danus. Lawrence Stern [not the Shandy man, just as Cosmo is not the magazine of Joanne Gent's Olivia], the painter whose Shell Seekers hangs in pride of place, was compellingly played by Peter Nerreter. The inimitable Rita Vango brought touching pathos to Penelope, whose story this is, especially when she was recalling the smell of her father's studio or quoting McNiece.

September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy.
Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.