Photocall

There will be many more photographs, of course, of the dress rehearsals; but in the meantime, images are required for the programme and for the press. Our very own Reverend Mercer, Barry Parsons, provides the necessary expertise, and we spend a highly entertaining hour or two enacting key moments (some of which don't actually happen in the play) for the purpose.

This means being costumed for the first time, and dealing with present deficiencies as best we can. The wigs, for example, will be hired for the run of the show (my own short-cropped hair fails dismally to convince for 1908 merchant-class Edwardian lady); but good wigs are expensive to hire, so for the moment it's time for severe combing-back and hair-spraying, and a small hairpiece tucked on the back, like a blonde doughnut. OK, so perhaps that's a description of me, before you say it.

Looking at the images as they appear on Barry's laptop, we realise that the three ladies make a patriotic picture. Kiera is pale and understated in cream; Julie strong and loud in vivid deep red; and I am delighted with the sort of grey-bluebell colour which suits me very well. The corseting is vital, in my case, but raises certain of my features to hitherto unknown heights. However, it's very plain why these ladies couldn't have managed without a maid; even with modern velcro additions, getting into the outfit alone is nigh on impossible.

There are more giggles, of course, especially as Kiera and Matthew are required, once more, to enact their 'intimate moment'; each blames the other. The rest of us simply enjoy the spectacle - except, of course, poor Barry, who is trying to get a sensible photograph! (You can view a few more of my images here. The results of Barry's far more expert work will, hopefully, appear in local newspapers before long.)