It's a great show. It has a wonderful cast - one is a dear friend without whom my life would feel darker and several who I'd invite to dinner. My husband is conducting it, my son is performing (as a cowboy, as a break from exam fever) and the director is the sweetest lady you will ever meet.
Yesterday at 6.30pm I wished all 32+ of them at the bottom of the sea as my gallant band of grizzled stage crew finally managed to ease away the last bit of set and the last prop. Just in time for them to arrive and start USING the set. How dare they? Excuse me, this set is BEAUTIFUL. Every prop has a HOME. Everything has a place and there are good access points with no issues obstructing fire exits. Now just all go away and let the crew and I enjoy ourselves moving it around in peace.
I've turned into a Techie. Worse, I've turned into a techie with the temper of a disgruntled troll and a shout that breaks lightbulbs.
Techies are a unique theatre breed. If you want lighting, sound, set, stuff flying in, access to the broom cupboard, lightbulbs changing or anything of a practical nature done, you need a techie. Generally they have a low opinion of actors because these only serve to clutter up their stage. They're often not that keen on directors either - as who would be if you'd been up til midnight hanging a cloth only for them to swan in the next morning and insist that it needs to be moved. I speak as a director who has done just that. I was one last week. How times change.
Last night was the Tech run. Our run. The techie version of heaven when if any one of us raises a finger, the show stops while we mutter in corners and make infintesimal changes to the gaffer tape markings. This is in direct contrast to our normal role which is to make sure the show stops for nothing bar fire or death.
|Waving wheat in Oklahoma. It sure smells sweet.|
Just don't touch my wagon.