- Persuaded to join a sale at a local venue. Everyone turns up and lays their 'wares' out - the most grotty tat you ever saw - and waits for the punters.
- It started depressing and got worse
- The only dependable person I know was, as usual, dependable. She had to be in 5 places at the same time so she got her job done and made it easy for me to take up the slack.
- The one I did depend on in partnership for the gruelling experience ... flubbed it.
- Her back-up ... flubbed it.
- I'd taken some books to flog - which were so classy, I even made some sales - and some of mum's clothes and it was so sad to see them there in such surroundings. Thank god,, pearls before, none sold.
- I've needed money all my life but i've never been reduced to that and won't ever again.
- Pack-up time, again La Dependabilia had it all fixed, her man right there to collect and do the necessary. Some people have it in their blood to Get the Job Done and excuses aren't in their thinking or vocabulary. I try to be that way. It's not fucking all about me, after all.
Dickens Night ~ a wonderful extravaganza at the theatre under the aegis of the superb John Dryden. Immense effort and thought and planning which all paid off. I helped set up and had lent some props. A triumph and the theatre was packed.
Non-stop music, dance, choirs, costumes, bonhomie, mulled wine, you name it.
Goof - I'd misunderstood. I invited someone, thought it was a sort of date, meant well.
|Wench CP and Wine Master, Tom|
Timing - the evening was listed as 1830hrs 'til whenever. Little ones, parents, long drives home ~ hardly likely to be a marathon.
My 'invitée (assumed/supposed) arrived as we were packing up, expressing surprise that it was over and citing a mythical time of 2100 hrs as when it was meant to end. Nowhere on any of the posters was any closing hour given - wishful Greek thinking.
|Ruth Copinger as Ms Havisham|
, that can't be right. I know not whereof I speak.
Teamwork - there was a wonderful feeling of us all being in it together.
Beauty - I tell you, I don't know how old those young gels were but they were stunning - 5-10 years from now, the chaps dont stand a chance.
Costumes - the adults had made a real effort to dress Dickensian.
I shall cop it for saying this but if I had to summarise the night ~ les jeunes would've made a preacher lay the GoodBook down ... and their mothers looked their costumed age. There are some northern shrew faces that I've looked at and thought, back home they'd be on the shelf, thank gawd for them they were taken up by a local who knew exactly where they'd fit. Thus saying, let me pack my bags pronto and hightail it outta town before the posse descends.
The clear-up ~