PROUD

Little Seymour Number One went to an audition when she was about seven, for a small part in a local church’s nativity-cum-pantomine extravaganza. Grandma took her along, because Grandma’s friend was running the show, and when Number One returned home that afternoon, Grandma declared her surprise:
Little Seymour Number One could barely read.

This came as a surprise to me, too. My eldest child could read, I was sure of it. At least, a bit..? She was certainly fluent in Mr Brown Can Moo, Can You? at bedtime. But maybe reading an unfamiliar script in front of a gaggle of parochial, amateur thesbians was not something she was capable of.
In any case, the audition was not a success. I had sent her out, ill-prepared, and the poor child’s dreams of stardom were dashed.

A few years later, I heard of a musical theatre class being run locally, and despite the flop of the church panto audition, I signed Number One up. Musical Theatre classes were just what we’d been waiting for. Her reading had improved, and she knew the words to Let it Go off by heart, even if she hadn’t yet seen the film. We (I) had high hopes.

Musical Theatre didn’t work out quite as we’d hoped either. Number One became an expert in pretending to play a violin, and learned how to mime convincingly to No Place I’d rather Be, complete with finger waggling and bottom wiggling, but when it came to belting out solos from Disney movies… it just didn’t happen.

What about school plays? I hear you ask. It was a mixed bag. She was the standard angel at playschool, and I can recall a performance of Tattybogle at some stage, but I suspect there was no major part for my girl, because – well – I cant remember it at all.

In Year 6, things started to get moving, as her wonderful teacher recognised something in her and gave her the role of Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was played in traditional open air fashion on a balmy July night in 2015. Could she read the script? Hell yeah! And there were solos galore. The only slight drawback was that she was in a class of 18 kids, and had to share her role with another girl on alternate nights, to eek out the parts.
I’m sure Margot Robbie doesn’t have to put up with that sh1t.

When Little Seymour Number One started secondary school, back when this blog was born in 2015, I was keen for her to keep up with her performing, and when audition days were announced for the school’s production of We Will Rock You, she went along, somewhat reluctantly, to see what it was all about. Sadly, I had erroneously prepared her for the audition by getting her to watch Rock of Ages, a very different kind of story altogether, of which all I can recall is Tom Cruise’s shiny red codpiece. Yes, I had got the wrong film. And so she auditioned blind, with no clue what Ben Elton was going on about, but with a good grounding in the music of Queen nevertheless.
And she got a part! A small part (a police officer? A yes thing? What even is a yes thing?), but a part nevertheless.
That was in Year 7.
In Year 8, they did Billy Elliott (she was definitely a police officer in that), and in Year 9, The Addams family, where she was a random add-on ancestor, named Aunt Nic Nac. No great accolade, but important training for the future, as it would turn out.

We were very upset when the production team disbanded, and Covid reared its ugly head. My little person had waited patiently, taking the most minor roles and working hard with them, hoping that later on, when she was at the top of the school, she would get her chance… it looked like it would never happen, but then,joy of joys, posters hailing the promise of Matilda Jnr started springing up all around the school. She auditioned, she rehearsed and her performance of Mrs Wormwood was second to none, only marred slightly by the fact that she was indeed second to her younger sister, Number Two, who won the role of Matilda herself. (Did I mention that I have very theatrical children?)

We will skim right over the local theatre group’s attempted stab at Githa Sowerby’s The Stepmother. After months of rehearsals and costume fittings galore, that, too, was scuppered by Covid.

When my Number One child left for university, she wanted to join things. There are societies for everything under the sun, so when she told me she was joining SMUTS, I was rather alarmed. Smuts? Was she engaging in something sordid? Had she reached the pit of her savings that quickly and resorted to some sort of prostitution?
Thankfully, SMuTs stands for Sussex Musical Theatre Society, and for my daughter, it was the social embodiment of Nirvana. She rocked up to audition for The Addams Family, and literally became Morticia.

At the end of last month, we finally got to see Little Seymour Number One morph seamlessly into the Addams matriarch. We witnessed her act and sing flawlessly. She even did the tango on stage. And the contrast between that little girl who couldn’t read, and the siren she has transformed into, was huge. It just goes to show that, given time, dedication and a little bit of serendipity, you can go from playing Aunt Nic Nac to Morticia in just a few short years.

Suffice to say, Big Seymour and I are beyond proud.

I cannot draw her without school uniform.