I am such a twunt. I have delusions of grandeur, and of a life one day treading the boards, living it up and being fabulous.
Usually, after such delusions, I wake up. But on this occasion, my delusions took me to a scary place, a place which terrified me and made me wonder what in the living bejeesus I was playing at..
The week before last, I found myself in a large hall with a small, very discerning audience, trying and failing to sing about the hills being alive whilst I murdered them viciously with my nerve-ridden, guttural throes. Yes, dear friends, I auditioned for a part in a local, upcoming production of The Sound of Music. I was awful.
To those that know me, this may come as no surprise. I do love to sing! And, in recent years, I have become less and less afraid to do so. I will holler and warble anywhere – it gives me such a thrill and is enormously cathartic! Occasionally, I even think I sound half decent.
But at the same time, also to those of you that know me, you may also be surprised. I am no Christina Aguilera. I am no Celine Dion. I’m more of a Stevi Ritchie – a complete amateur. I have never auditioned for anything before. The fear of rejection has been too great.
But miraculously, something has happened to me recently! I am now a total embarrassment to my kids anyway, simply by being their mother. I am no longer young and impressionable. And I’ve had plenty of rejection with my writing over the last twenty years, so I am armed with a very thick (and wrinkly) skin. Now, dear friends, I am game for anything.
So, after a quick phone call to someone whose name eludes me in the local theatre group a few month ago, I resolved to turn up for the audition with a little something I had prepared. I spent weeks practising the marvellous, multi-layered number, “I Have Confidence”. I chose this tricky one as it posed an impossible challenge (I do seem to like a challenge) and I now know it word-perfect (even if it’s not quite in tune). Yay! Go me.
However… on the morning of the audition, I did a last-minute check of the theatre group’s website and lo! It had been updated, and the protocol for auditioning was plain to see: “Contact us for the set pieces“. And that -right there, was my first mistake. After all, perfect planning prevents poor performance.
All through those endless weeks of belting along to good old Julie Andrews in the car and in the kitchen, I wondered: would I actually go to the audition? Might I find the guts? Or would I shy away from the scary (yet totally voluntary and unnecessary) thing, and just curl up under a rock, secure in the knowledge that if I’m awful, nobody ever needs to know..?
The day dawned. I felt sick, and by now I realised that I was woefully ill-prepared. “I Have Confidence” was superfluous, which is uncanny as my own confidence was eluding me. But my daughter, my clever, brave and fearless daughter, told me I had to push on through. She’s faced auditions that I had pushed her into. Now it was my turn to do the same.
Upon learning of my plan, Big Seymour was perplexed. He scratched his head and pondered what on Earth could make me want to subject myself to something I was clearly terrified of. “Have you even got time?” he then asked, with the demeanour of a man who is suspicious of his wife’s apparent sudden desire to do some am-dram.
He had a point. After all, what was I thinking?
The fateful evening arrived and I nearly didn’t get in the car. I then nearly turned the car around and then I nearly didn’t get out of it the other end. Why oh why was I entering this lions’ den? What exactly was I hoping to achieve?
And then we started. Forms were handed in. The piano began to tinkle. Children auditioned and then it was the adults’ turn… starting with the question, “What part are you interested in?”…
Well, with my current bravado (in spite of the nerves, I was there, wasn’t I?), I decided I’d go hard or go home. So, I stupidly said I’d like to audition for Maria…
Maria, however, doesn’t claw at her chest whilst “rejoicing” in song about the larks that fly from the church to the trees, because her voice has run away and taken all her saliva with it. Maria knows where to look when she serenades the children, and doesn’t keep her eyes trained on the fire exit. Maria, I believe, does not gurn when she sings a duet with (a very convincing) Captain Von Trapp, nor does she flinch when he pecks her on the cheek.
And I’m bloody sure Maria would not have been reading her lines from her iPhone 7 because she had not thought to check to see if there was more up-to-date audition info’ on the website prior to her Big Chance.
So, dear readers, I share with you my shame that I dared to audition, and I tried for the top spot. I’m not arrogant – not really. The very thought of being seen that way is horrid. And, as the audition progressed, I left the “go hard or go home” attitude behind. To have clung to that might have been arrogant indeed. So, when the panel asked me if I’d consider other roles, I found myself nodding. And when a very nice older gentleman took pity on me sitting alone and urged me to join the company, regardless of the audition outcome (er, cheers), because they all enjoy a jolly good sing-song at rehearsals, I found myself feeling that I must.
And when, last week, I received an email to say I had a part, I was not sure how to react. It wasn’t Maria (no shit, Sherlock!), it wasn’t even the Baroness, which I had since decided I’d rather like. No, my friends, if you choose to come and see The Sound Of Music in Henfield in January, you may not recognise me at all. Because I will be dressed head to toe in a bloody habit.
Yep. I’m a random nun.
Let’s just see how this goes, shall we?
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