The 26th was the last day of South Pacific. By this stage, my throat was failing to work and I was expecting to have two miserable failures at my prized solo line in Nothing Like A Dame. In an attempt to rectify matters I bought some hot honey and lemon stuff. I was also provided with some Sanderson's throat specific - This is a highly nasty chemical remedy/concotion which smells like old chemistry labs from school. Apparently you gargle with it and it makes you better. I wasn't sure whether you were meant to swallow it. I swallowed it the first time and found that it really doesn't sit well in the stomach. Between the matinee and the evening performance I used it again and found spitting to be a preferable option, but it will never be a taste sensation.
Drugged and chemicalled up I croaked my way through the matinee. Between shows I sat in the bar eating a hearty quantity of shop-bought sandwiches and reading The Goal, which is sort of a novel but is actually a business textbook. Surely my life couldn't have looked more pathetic; overeating nasty Morrison's sandwiches, doing some work reading and feeling slight excited that I'd bought my first packet of nappy wipes, those delightfully moistened cleansing friends that are ideal for removing stage make up. I had, up until this point, been borrowing similar wipes from other cast members and delighting in their effectiveness.
As it happens, my spirits were on the up as life really wasn't as pitiful as it looked. Though frustrated by my voice's failings, I was feeling otherwise okay. In addition I was in eager anticipation of a visit from a special person, who was due to arrive in the bar of the theatre, having travelled extensively to be there, at around the time the evening show finished. In addition to this addition, the show had gone well and a number of the cast seemed keen to come along and see the Newcastle show of The Musical!. All I needed to do was squeeze some sound out of my voice in the evening show and I would soon be in the post show glow.
As I remember it, the shows went very well that day and time did pass quickly. Almost before I knew it I had a black bag full of my random bits and bobs, and I was in the bar with my visitor. There had been some minor drama during the evening show, as texts I received just as it started suggested that the visitor may have missed vital connections, but the 'radio silence' that I fretted over as the evening show ran its course proved to be a sign that everything was going to plan.
We hung around in the bar until I had sold as many tickets as I was going to, done the appropriate quantity of backslapping, and the time seemed right for an exit.
An ex musical director of the society had commented thatit was a good rendition of South Pacific, but I was in no way sorry to see the show finish. It will never be one of my favourite shows. I think we did it justice. Anyway, I had a weekend of joy to enjoy with my recently arrived visitor; step one was to recuperate after the exertions of the previous week.