Being Typecast

My best beloved is into Am Dram – amateur dramatics for anyone outside the UK – and he is good at it (rather to my surprise.)

The first time I went to see something produced by the company he was about to join, let’s say the benchmark for my expectations was sort of skirting board height.

But I was wrong. It was Amadeus, and it was brilliant.

Anyway he has got involved, and I am used to evenings alone when he goes to rehearsals, and reading all the other parts for him as he learns his lines.

(We have sat on a train in Spain with him putting his all into his lines (loudly) with Spaniards looking on rather bemused if not downright alarmed.)

We have also spent many an evening with me stirring a risotto with the play in one hand and reading all sorts of characters (badly) whilst he is sitting on the sofa, with a dog on his knee, ‘playing’ whatever part he is doing at the moment.

I have to say though, that the directors have got his card marked.

He was the bishop in ‘All Gas and Gaiters’ and it was not much of a step for him from normal life-speak to pontificating. Indeed I recognised some of the word patterns in our breakfast/dinner/tv suppers conversations.

( He was the voice of Snoozy in the Snow White pantomime and I reminded him of that as I woke him at 10am this morning…)

Currently he is rehearsing Time of Our Life by Alan Ackybourn and is the pompous paterfamilias and again, boy do I recognise him – though of course, his acerbic money-orientated wife is not me. Indeed she isn’t.

And of course, dear reader, he is not like that at all – or not much…..

But it got me thinking, how would I be typecast?

Well, of course, that requires a considerable degree of self-awareness and that is not my forte.

However, I am sure if you asked my best beloved he would be able to tell you……






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