Oxford - Rome - Bradford
Touring with the Carte was a specific way of life, sadly now gone forever. It was like living in a rarified bubble and the outside world hardly encroached. I loved it. It was hard work, especially when one had understudy calls, eight shows a week and travelling to the new venue on your day off. However it did give one some free time in the afternoons for recreation which for me took the form of playing golf. Mike McKenzie, another ex chorister arranged for the golfers to get free access to certain golf clubs in return for an after show concert at the end of the week. In this, we golfers were aided by most of the rest of the company who pitched in to make these concerts go with a bang. I suppose it was any excuse for a party but it was part of the D'Oyly experience.
Talking of going with a bang. One year, in the early seventies we were playing the Opera House, Manchester as we did every year for a six week season. I loved the Opera House as it had lots of atmosphere and a wonderful accoustic. However, this was the time of IRA activity in England and bombs were going off all over the place. We had just finished one show, Pinafore I think, and were washing off in the dressing room when a strange thing happened. There was, for a split second, dead silence. At this Jon Ellison threw himself to the ground just as the windows blew in to a thunderous roar. A bomb had gone off outside the Law Courts next door. Elli had served in the army and his training paid off. Luckily no-one was hurt as the curtains absorbed the flying glass but it was an awful shock. I learned later that Kenneth Sandford had just got out of the building when the bomb exploded. He too had military training and dropped to the ground. He knew instinctively that there would be a shower of falling glass so he rolled under his car until danger had passed. We all got dressed in rapid time so that we could get away from the area before it was sealed by the police.
Mike Tuckey as Pish Tush with Barry Clark., Malcolm Coy and myself on the left. Bill Palmerly stands guard on the right
Another time, in the early seventies, during the 'Winter of Discontent' when the power workers were striking without warning we were playing the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford On Avon and were giving 'Trial By Jury' and 'H M S Pinafore'. Around seven in the evening all the lights went out. Luckily the theatre had a bank of huge batteries which lit the stage in an eerie white light. We were told to forget make-up and change as quickly as possible as we were going to race the batteries to see if we could complete the shows, even in this light. As the evening progressed the light got dimmer and dimmer until at the end we were virtually feeling our way off stage, but we got there. Talk about Music By Candlelight, this was more like Opera By Braille! David Rayson, who was always early into the show had got a full make-up on and decided he'd go back to his digs to wash off. He was half way up the high Street when all the lights came back on and he had to make a dash for it with his coat covering his face.
Normally our time in Manchester and London was more relaxed than the usual tour as we didn't have to travel on Sundays and we usually did only two shows a week instead of the change-over every night. It also gave us time to make the place our own and on one memorable occasion in Manchester one of the small parters put a couple of 'art studies' up on the wall of the small parts room. Then someone else added a few more and the idea caught on. Soon the whole room was decorated with rather risque pictures from 'girlie' magazines. Decorated is not the word, the room was smothered, ceiling and all. Needless to say not everyone thought this in good taste so one of the boys, Derek Booth I think, made little paper curtains which were worked with cotton strands to cover the offending bits. It was all very ingenious but after the regular inspection by the fire department it all had to come down as it was deemed to be a fire risk. The inspector was heard to remark, 'Bloody Hell! Who's in here, Sex Maniacs?'. It certainly raised the temperature in and around the company.
Several members toured caravans in preference to finding digs at each new town and I became one of them in my last year. This was truly the vagrant life, as depicted in Operetta, not reality. Open fields were not often our pitching grounds. We would look for well appointed caravan sites with toilets and running water. During Summer this could be idyllic but a bit bleak in Winter. Nevertheless it had it's attractions and was cheaper than the usual theatrical digs. There are certain things however that have to be observed when touring a van. The speed limit is one, which for a car towning a van is 50 mph. Too much speed can make the van begin weaving across the road and has the 'Tail-wagging-the-dog' effect which can be quite unsettling. This highlights the need for a car of suitable power to tow a loaded van. My car was a Fiat 124, not a great workhorse, more a whippet of a car and it got wagged more than once. In fact on one occasion I was bringing up the rear in a caravan convoy when I noticed the others all surging ahead. We were going across country and the roads were winding and sometimes narrow. I saw the van ahead disappear round a corner and when I went round that corner I was confronted by a hump-backed brige which I hit at speed. As I went over the bridge I saw, to my horror that the road made a 90 degree left turn just past the bridge and I jumped on the brakes. Unfortunately the momentum of the van and car, just coming down from a bridge decided to disregard the effort to stop it and pushed the front end of the car off the road and into a stout hedge bordering a field. It crumpled the bodywork around the front off-side tyre effectively locking it in place. I couldn't move the car like this so, after the shock and swearing had died down I unhitched the van and pushed it back to a safe spot then straightened, as far as I could, the wheel arch. I had just got the caravan back on the road when John Broad and Adrian Martin, who had been leading the convoy came back to see if I needed help. We soon had the car, dents and all, back on the road and a more leisurely pace resumed. I took my own time after that.
In the early seventies the Carte tried to open up the audience cachement area by taking us into Europe. A week in Denmark at Copenhagen and Aarhus was a delightful change to routine and gave us a chance to see something of this part of the world, which is charming. While in Aarhus our visit coincided with the arrival of a contingent of the United Nations Fleet. Several of us went aboard the HMS Bacchante and befriended some of the Marines serving there. We were taken below decks and treated to several months supply of beer, Whiskey, Rum and Brandy and had a wonderful time exchanging stories until it was time to leave the ship to go and do the show. If I say we staggered off the ship, passing as they came on board several local dignitaries, I would not be exaggerating. Some of the girls meanwhile had taken drinks and afternoon tea with the officers and so the following night our audience for HMS Pinafore comprised in good part the officers and crew of the Bacchante, officers in the stalls and the marines in the gallery. When the curtain went up on the sailors cleaning the ship there was a huge uproar from the Gods as the Marines let rip. It was like that all through the show, at appropriate moments of course and we felt we had brought some small pleasure to Her Majesty's serving seamen. After the show some of the girls had an invitation to drinks with the Officers so Elli led the lads in a chorus of '...for those in peril on the sea.' As we left the theatre the sailors and marines formed two rows and applauded us into the night. Wonderful.
At the beginning of each tour we were issued with a card of the tour, places and dates so that we could organise our travelling and digs. It looked a bit odd on this occasion as the middle venues read 'Oxford, Rome, Bradford'. Those of us with caravans had to store them at Oxford while we went to Rome, then, on returning, go to Oxford, pick up the vans, then traipse off to Bradford. As it turned out we did not have a lot of time to achieve this especially as we were using a different caravan site from the last time. I followed behind John Broad and we got to the site in a snow storm having just enough time to park the vans and get into the theatre like a bat out of Hell. We were doing The Gondoliers that evening and I was on for Luiz and John was on for Don Alhambra, though we didn't know this until we arrived at seven thirty. They held the curtain for us which made us feel very important. We soon came back to earth when we had to return from the Sun-soaked shores of Barataria to the Caravan site and get set up properly in a pitch black, freezing Bradford night.
Wherever we went we encountered a phenomenon, be it London, Manchester, New York or Los Angeles, The UK , Italy, Denmark, Australia or the USA it was always present - the Fans! This hard-core group of devotees would materialize at stage-doors wherever we were, collecting autographs, some of which they must have collected hundreds of times. What was it that brought them to our door? Never having suffered from this peculiar malaise myself I find it hard to understand that they could turn their liking for G&S into such a way of life. It seemed to me they had a longing to be part of the company and this was their way of getting as close to their dream as they could. It was a fantasy but most of them seemed thrilled by their contact with the luminaries of the G&S world, a sort of addiction. However, it is probably fortuitous they were there as they could provide a rich seam of memories and photographs which could also be collected by any interested party for D'Oyly Carte posterity.
I wonder if the actual backstage life in the Carte was also the stuff of imaginary longing for these fans as this was where the real people lived, not the characters they portrayed on stage. Maybe their viewpoint saw a life of excitement and romance to which they aspired, maybe not, but if this was the case let me dispel the notion at once. It was a good , if demanding life with little of the romance one might otherwise have expected. Theatre life is not highly romantic it is hard work, with compensations. It was a regimented life, it had to be to get the shows on the stage, but we formed a sort of family without being too much in each others' pockets. This enabled us to operate as a team which worked to a well ordered plan and wherever we went we were able to assimilate the local conditions and settle into them without too much fuss. Different towns, different theatres, different accommodation every week except when in Manchester and London, these all became part of the general picture that was life in the D'Oyly Carte. It meant little time at home for the married folks and a double expense for them too if they had a home to maintain. Yet there was a comeraderie which bound us into a company and brought us what might be termed nowadays 'job satisfaction', also a lot of laughs and many memories. Gareth Jones again tells this one. He had just been given the cover to Pooh Bah, taking it over from Jason Shute who was leaving. As usual, the exiting cover gave hints and tips regarding make-up, business and props to the new incumbent. Wherever we were at this time it was an old theatre with little dressing room space and poor facilities. It was on a day that Jason was playing Pooh Bah and Gareth had gone to his pokey little dressing room, lit by one bulb to get some idea of the make-up procedure. Sitting cuddled up in this tiny, ill lit space, hearing the floor boards creak above and the toilet flushing down the corridor Jason, spreading his arms wide said in his modulated Welsh tones, 'Well Gareth, one day all of this will be yewers!'
There was also the story of Ralph Mason, a very funny Tolloller and Duke of Dunstable, who, while in the chorus, decided to make a point about poor dressing room conditions in one of the theatres. It was so lacking in amenities Ralph was sitting in a corridor with hardly any light by which to make up. When he appered on stage as a Japanese gentleman he had blue eyeshadow, green lips and red blobs on his cheeks. A light was soon found for him. Ralph was also a great joker and had the habit of warming his voice up by shouting 'Hip Bath' which could be heard for miles. He always said his one claim to fame pre-Carte was that for a time he was Monty's (Lord Montgomery) batman, and indeed he was. He was also a very funny man who could make verbal slips on stage seem accidental, though one always wondered if they were not done on purpose. 'Dead Dickeye' was one, '...he's old and crappled' was another. He was the quintessential toffee-nosed 'silly ass' as Tolloller, Alexis and the Duke while being suitably ardent as Ralph, Cyril and Marco and a nice bloke to boot. (Though I never did!!!)
Glyn Adams told me of an announcement given to the audience one night when Peter Pratt was ill. The show was 'Yeomen' and the cover was John Reed. The stage manager at the time had a speech impediment which can't be faithfully reproduced here, but his'Rs' came out like soft 'Vs'. The announcement went something like this. "Ladies and Gentuhmen, owing to the illness of Mr Peter Pvatt tonight the part of Jack Point will be taken by Mr John Veed. (Large audience groan from the Pratt supporters) I'm vevy sovvy!".
Sometimes hilarious things happen, by accident or design, which can affect the show if we are not careful, and many times we trod the narrow line between professionalism and self indulgence, hopefully not at the audience's expense. One night we were doing 'Yeomen' in the DeMontfort Hall in Leicester. This is not a theatre but has a false proscenium arch built to make it behave like one, being a metal framework covered in curtains. At the moment when Jack Point was doing the scene with Wilfred leading to 'Cock and Bull', John Reed's understudy, John Cartier, had come into the wings to watch how John did the business. He was so intent he forgot where he was and leant against the proscenium arch. Unfortunately he didn't choose part of the framework and fell straight through into the orchestra pit. I don't think many audience members were aware of it as John was able to get back unobserved but George Cook saw the whole thing as he was waiting in the wings in advance of his next entrance. Now George was one of these people who never laughed out loud. He could be in hysterics but would make not a sound. As he saw John slowly disappear through the curtain he let out a loud guffaw and rushed back to the dressing room to tell the tale. All through the remaining part of the show and for several days after George had only to see John and would burst out with loud laughter. (NB. Through the quirk of poor memory after some, timeI recalled this tale as having happened to Howard Williamson but have since been informed that the event actually happened to John Cartier several years before.) Though George eventually recovered, the incident didn't cause him to pause even a second in his manufacturing of Mikado fans which he did at his place in the dressing room between scenes, fortified by bottles of stout. He created a fan hire business which kept him in good stead after he left the company. George was married to Marian Martin, a mezzo with the Carte but I later sang with her in La Traviata when she had become a stunning high soprano. Her Violetta was very moving and beautifully sung.
One of my favourite incidents nearly got us all into trouble as it was very funny but I'm afraid not very professional. One of the basses, Mark Nelson had a wicked sense of humour which had us laughing on more than one occasion. This night however saw his piece de resistance. In Mikado we all had to wear stockings which had a big toe built into them so the sandal thong could go between it and the second toe. Mark decided to pack this toe with Cotton Wool until it was about six inches long. When on stage he hid this by slightly leaning forward so his voluminous costume pants would cover his feet. When the Mikado, followed by us, sang, 'My object all sublime' Marl leaned back and flapped this enormous toe up and down in time to the music. The effect on us across the stage from him caused convulsions and tears streamed down more than one face. If this wasn't bad enough, by the time we came to the finale the toe had grown to about a foot which was even funnier. Unfortunately it was spotted by the director of productions who remonstrated with Mark and so ended a very funny moment.
Jon Ellison was often involved in on-stage jokery and mishaps which he could turn to his advantage and get a laugh from the audience. During one performance of Cox and Box Jon was playing Mr Cox and had spoken the line cueing the entrance of Mr Bouncer played by John Ayldon. Now John had been unfortunately delayed and was upstage behind the set when his cue was given. This meant he had to run to the downsatge entrance to get on, leaving Elli standing there in silence. So, instead of simply standing there Jon looked at the audience and said, "I'll just go and see what's happening in the kitchen." and exited right. John Ayldon meanwhile, in his rush to get on dropped a tray and made a crashing sound. Elli re-entered and said,"It's all happening in there!" just as John Ayldon entered at last, continuing as if nothing had happened. There was restrained laughter from them both for the rest of the scene.
It would startle and amaze some of the ardent fans out there to know some of the things that get taken onto the stage, and sometimes get left on it. I was told of one chorister who, in Mikado was able to conceal in his large, roomy costume sleeves a bottle of Guiness, a glass and a bottle opener. During the Mikado's song, when the chorus had several deep bows to perform he would take out the bottle, glass and opener during the first bow and place them on the stage in front of him, he being hidden from the audience by the line of choristers in front of him. On the second bow he would open the bottle and pour the beer into the glass. The third bow would see the stout drunk and the implements packed away in time for the exit. Apparently he did this trick many times as a sort of party piece.
Beti Lloyd Jones tells of the day they were doing Pirates and the girls were fighting off the Pirates just before act 1 finale. She felt her elastic go in her long bloomers which proceeded to fall down. Fortunately they were covered by her crinoline so she simply stepped out of them and shuffled them behind her to Jon Ellison to get rid of them. He picked them up and threw them towards the wings, unfortunately the air got into them and they filled out, landing gently on the rocky cut-out at the back, in full view of the audience.
Anthony Besch's production of the Gondoliers was clean and crisp but devoid of a lot of the usual humorous stage business which he didn't find funny. He added a scene where the Duke and Duchess were served a meal of spaghetti while the Grand Inquisitor sang, 'I stole the Prince'. The spaghetti was brought on by Jon Ellison and some very spectacular additions appeared from time to time under the spaghetti lid. Christine Palmer said she was always amused by what she found there even if it turned out to be a condom or a plastic dog turd.
Another scene saw Brian Sharpe called onto the stage with an ashtray for John Reed's cigar ash. He had to stand there, immobile whileJohn tried to make him flinch, even standing on his foot which Brian ignored, until he exited, limping. At one point John blew smoke into Brian's ear and I came up with a small device to improve the gag. I had some small bore copper pipe which I moulded around Brian's head, hiding it under his hair. The two ends were bent outwards and when John Blew smoke through it it seemed to come out of Brian's other ear. This got a huge laugh for John, but as soon as Mr Besch saw it he had it stopped as it was taking the focus from the Duchess's song. What all the other business he had added was doing I don't know. Maybe it was because he hadn't thought of it!
I remember one hilarious moment in Gondoliers for which I need to fill in a little background. The costume department was run, with a rod of iron, by Cis Blain and Florence Ewbank, Cis and Flo as they were always known. When they were at work you did not cross them as they were so busy making all the costumes and'whites' (shirts, gloves etc) look so splendid for every performance. Often you would hear Cis call Flo's name from one part of the theatre to Flo in another part. It was quite a stentorian sound. Well, on this occasion Gondoliers had reached the denoument when Inez is about to spill the beans as to the real identity of the King Of Barataria. She sings, 'His name...Luiz! Behold, His Roayal Highness!' and there is a dramatic pause after 'His name...'. In this pause, clear as a bell we heard Cis calling, 'Flo!'
There are many such stories, and one day I hope someone will research the remaining D'Oyly Carters and collect them for publication. Such a life, now gone forever, seemed to breed real theatrical characters or maybe it simply gave an atmosphere in which ordinary people could develop and thrive. The characters will all live on through the stories, Jimmy Marsland, Alan Styler, Jimmy Walker (conductor) Bert Newby, Jon Ellison (Elli), Cis and Flo the indomitable wardrobe mistresses who also created many laughs, Peter Riley (stage manager), Michael Heyland, (Director of Productions), the consummate professionals Kenneth Sandford and John Reed who had a wicked sense of humour but never succumbed to inappropriate laughter on stage, Peggy Anne Jones, Beti Lloyd Jones, Mike McKenzie, Donald Adams, John Ayldon, John Webley, a wonderful baritone who died of cancer at age 24, Tom Lawlor a bass baritone of charming Irish temperament, the lovely Pauline Wales who married him, Royston Nash who came to us from the Royal Marines, Bill Palmerly a chorus tenor with a host of stories, David Rayson, David Young, Glyn Adams, , Gareth Jones, Barry Clark etc, etc, etc. There is one name however that is remembered, by a few of us at least, as the shortest D'Oyly Carte career of all. This was Stephen Tudor, a very good tenor who joined the company in 1968. However, he had a sudden change of heart after two days rehearsal and simply left the company. All very mysterious until, in 1979 I joined the CAPAB Opera Company in Cape Town, S. Africa. This was a part time company which was trying to become a full time one and recruited singers from all over the world to aid in this. One of the local singers was a certain Stephen Tudor who told me that he had auditioned for the Carte and was told he would be taking over the Tenor roles. However, when he arrived to rehearse he was told he would have to serve some time in the chorus first until the principal tenor actually left. He was having none of this and simply went home to Cape Town. (I assumed he meant to replace Philip Potter as he had voiced his intention to leave the company after the American tour.) I presume Stephen saw himself as an operatic soloist and the idea of serving time in the chorus didn't fit his scheme of things. He said he didn't even like G&S being more of a heavy voiced tenor. Still, he did go down in the annals of the D'Oyly Carte, if for the wrong reasons. Pity, he was a very nice chap and I think he might even have enjoyed a stint in the company, but it was not to be. Most of the others, however, I counted my D'Oyly family, but all have gone their own way, as have I, with thanks for my days in the Carte and for the grounding it gave me.
Indeed much of my work is still in G&S. I regularly sing in concert with The English Heritage Singers, who specialise in G&S concerts and I have recently taken over from Geoffrey Shovelton in the concerts given by The Magic Of Gilbert and Sullivan, a company consisting of ex DC members. A specially poignant moment came recently when doing two concerts for them at Birmingham and Manchester. I was delighted to be working with Ken Sandford again and his voice was sounding even better than I remembered. Age had indeed mellowed the sound but it also seemed to have strengthened it. Everything he sang had the authentic Sandford touch, but sadly it was becoming obvious to those of us who knew him, and indeed to himself, that his memory for the dialogue was occasionally beginning to let him down. For such a professional performer this was a stressful occurrence, so much so that, at the age of 79, Ken decided to retire from the performing stage after the concert at the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester on 30th December 2003. It was the passing of an era but I for one will always be grateful for Ken's marvellous abilities on stage from which I learned so much and enjoyed even more.
At this point I will refer to a favourite memory. You will get some idea of the pleasure I have with this by looking at the vision of pulchritude on the right. It is
Yvonne Sommeling, a very attractive young lady who had a rather zany sense of humour which led to her earn the dubious reputation of becoming the Carte's one and only Page Three Girl. I managed to track her down in Durban, SA where she has lived for over twenty years with her husband and three children. She was convinced that this venture would lead her to getting a termination of contract and she reminded me of the letter she received from Freddy Lloyd shortly after the picture (right) appeared in the press.She thought it was to give her the sack but Freddy merely suggested that they might find a way of interpolating her scanty outfit into the last night of the London season. Unfortunately the idea was dropped.
For some time now I have held the belief that for most of the G&S tenor roles I have gone past my sell-by date but a special treat for me came recently when I was called upon to play Colonel Fairfax in a production starring and produced by Alistair Donkin in Eastbourne. This is a role I have played several times since leaving the cart and is a favourite. I even played the role out in Zimbabwe about fifteen years ago. The principal parts were played by professional singers from England while the chorus and small parts were trained locally in Harare. The Harare producer was one Vivian Carman, late of the D'Oyly Carte and Covent Garden. When in Eastbourne at the interval of the first night I received a message from one of the audience inviting me for a drink after the show. It was from Viv Carman who just happened to be in the area visiting a friend. The D'Oyly Carte bubble may have burst but it's remaining parts still seem to locate each other from time to time.
I still love these essentially Victorian entertainments which, though they may sound old fashioned and trite, still survive the many attempts to bring them up to date, a tribute to the geniuses which produced them. Their wit and musical excellence has much to offer, to which the many societies which keep them alive will attest and as many young people are still beginning to find despite the overpowering banality of the modern forms of music. I trust I will never lose the affection I have for it.
Front of house at The Savoy between performances of The Gondoliers, being visited by Prince Philip who was in high spirits, especially after meeting Jonny Elli.
Memories Of The D'Oyly Carte
We also had a couple of bomb scares while in London and it was strange to see all the characters from Mikado out in the street. Pooh Bah lighting a cigarette was a delightful incongruity and the Three Little Maids propping up the bar opposite the stage door was another.
My greatest dramatic role, a Yokel in The Sorcerer.
It was a different story on our trip to Rome. The hotel served barely cooked food though it was adequate in the comfort zone. The Italians flocked to the show, The Mikado, believing it to be an Opera in the Italian style. I think the light structure and the comedy completely passed them by and many of them booed and left the theatre. This gave a chance for the ex-pat Brits to come to the front and they cheered us to the rafters. 
A typical tour card, though sadly not the one mentioned below
Fairfax with Nonsuch Opera. Phoebe is Jenny Pearson, Jack Point is Adrian Lawson, another ex-D'Oyly Carter, Elsie is Fiametta Doria who sang with ENO and myself.
Ralph Mason sings the kissing song from Princess Ida to
Julia Goss playing Lady Psyche while Beti Lloyd Jones
and Brian Sharpe 'camp it up' in the wings.
The English Heritage Singers open-air production of Yeomen at Grim's Dyke, Harrow, once the home of Sir William Gilbert. Phoebe - Lynn Barber, Sgt, Merryll - Pascal Allen, Lieut. Of The Tower - David Todd, Shadbolt - Dennis Wicks, ENO, Covent Garden etc, and Jack Point - John Reed, who also directed the show. The conductor was Peter Murray once of the D'Oyly Carte.
Elli brought the house down once when we were doing 'The Sorcerer'. Act two begins with the whole company, minus some principals, asleep on the stage. Elli for some reason missed the call and arrived in the wings just after the curtain had gone up. He knew he had to be on stage for the following business so, quickly thinking, he put his arms up in front of him, closed his eyes and 'sleep-walked' to his place. It got him a wonderful laugh and a round of applause. Jon was always creating laughts, he had a wicked, 'little boy' sense of humour and sometimes a total disregard for propriety which could leave you in absolute hysterics. He was always, and still is, a very charming and warm-hearted man. The stories about Jon are many and varied and very funny but regrettably most can not be told here.
On another occasion one of the chorus girls, Liz Lowry I think, was leaving and, again in Mikado, after the Mikado had sung his song and the girls who had been kneeling across the front of the stage exited there were three hard-boiled eggs left on centre stage. They caused much hilarity and ended up in the footlights only to be retrieved when John Reed and Christine Palmer did the 'Beauty Of The Bellow and the Blast' kicking them all over the place.
One last night of the London season when we always did a pot pourri of different things we did Act 2 Mikado, a la Cecil B De Mille, an idea which was more grandiose in conception than in practice. However it had it's moments with a giant Tam Tam descending from the flys to be struck, J. Arthur Rank style by Mike Tuckey weilding a giant hammer only to have the head fly off into the audience, and the Mikado making his entrance on a horse. One should always keep in mind when working with animals on stage that they are not good at controlling their bladder or colon when confronted with a big audience. This horse was not used to this sight and proceeded to deposit the contents of his bladder and bowels on the stage before they could get him off. The chorus Basses who were kneeling immediately behind the horse did an amazing backward shuffle in strict time. They all moved as if they had been trained by the Grenadier Guards. John Ayldon then had to sing 'My object all sublime' pointing to the steaming pile as he did so. In the wings Michael Rayner, dressed as the Sergeant Of Police and Colin Wright as Nanki Poo had been given a bucket and spade and they came on and removed the offending prop, (or should that be plop?) to great applause. Miss Carte, who had been sitting in the Dress Circle beat a hasty if tactical retreat to the bar and let it be known she was not amused. Unlike everyone else who was convulsed, so much so that one of the girls couldn't control her own bladder and left a reciprocal stain on the stage cloth where she had been kneeling. Animals were forbidden on stage again after that. I wonder why?
Another last night saw us doing the second act of Ruddigore when John Ayldon as Sir Roderick stepped out of his picture and pointed an accusing finger at John Reed singing, 'Beware! Beware! Beware!'. This was the only time I have seen John Reed convulsed with laughter on stage because John Ayldon was wearing a gruesome rubber hand with a gnarled, hairy finger a foot long which waggled each time he pointed it at John Reed. Later in the scene when John Ayldon had to say, 'Very good, then let the agonies commence.' he raised the hand vigorously and it flew up in the air and out through the picture frame behind him. 
A departure for me. As one of the Three Little Maids at Grim's Dyke with Janice Hooper-Roe and Ann James. I was wrong in both instances being neither a maid nor little!
I remeber Christine Palmer making her entrance as Katisha with her long flowing train. On this occasion the train caught on a large stage lamp which proceeded to topple as she entered. Before she could utter a note the lamp overbalanced and crashed to the floor with an almighty bang, completely throwing Christine for a second. But the best Katisha's entrance must have been when the two guards preceeding her advanced with great vigour. They had to run on and strike an aggressive stance on the Pagoda platform centre stage. This platform was made of two box sections placed one in front of the other with an archway built around them. The first on, Alan Spencer, leapt on to this box section and landed with a thump. His forward momentum made the foremost box slide and Alan fell into the resultant hole, his spear, hat and wig going in all directions. Picking himself up he pushed the boxes back together, rescued his spear, hat and wig and took his pose for Katisha to make her entrance. All was going well until the guards had to stand up to attention. Alan hadn't noticed that the spear had been damaged in the crash and as he moved it, the blade slowly swung and dangled on a few strands. Again, one of those funny things which added to an already hysterical moment. 
Brian Sharpe as the flunkey in The Gondoliers stoically keeping his
face straight while John Reed tried very hard to make him laugh.
The great Kenneth Sandford in one of my favourite of his roles, Sir Despard Murgatroyd in 'Ruddigore'
From Left. Bill Palmerly's right elbow, John Broad, Patricia Leonard , myself, Margery Williams , James Conroy Ward , Anne Eggleston (behind the Prince) and Jon Ellison in the white.
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