So summer has come to the Lake District and my normal pasty hue of ‘Moth Attracting Magnolia’ (page 5 of the Dulux catalogue) has transformed into the much coveted shade of ‘Dark White’ (Bottom of page 6).
I have after 26 years (nearly 27 good GOD!) made a begrudging peace with my pale yet not so interesting complexion and have resigned myself to an ivory future bereft of that golden glow which seems to adorn every other scantily clad (AND FLAT STOMACHED) woman in all the glossy magazines that accidentally on purpose fall into my hands.
Don’t get me wrong, I go into WH Smiths with the intention of leaving with Dostoevsky’s ‘The Idiot’ but somehow end up with a magazine replete with all other sorts of idiots. Less life-defining idiots shall we say...
*cough* Kerry Katona *cough*.
I blame the heat. ‘Seasonal Stupidity’, I shall coin it. In winter, when it’s cold outside and there’s a comfy sofa to sink your bottom into, I am MORE than happy to sit and sail through Dickens’ denouement or Marlow’s metaphors; but on a sunny day when I am slick with sun cream, uncomfortably sweating on an itchy picnic blanket and batting away the midges by the lake I can think of nothing worse.
(I probably could think of a few worse things, genocide, famine and the like; but to quote Margaret Attwood’s ‘The Handmaids Tale’ –thank you GCSE English- “CONTEXT IS ALL”.)
I have recently taken to accompanying the magazines with my play scripts, ‘She Stoops to Conquer’ opens next week, so I have been delving into the world of wigs, fans and bosoms… but trying to learn lines whilst defining my ‘Dark White’ is ever so difficult.
However, I probably should have had a re-look at my Inspector Calls lines during one of my picnic blanket sessions, as at the climax of last night’s performance my character Sheila has to proclaim:
‘No! Because I remember what he said, how he looked and what he made me feel: fire, blood and anguish.’
Yet what I said, loudly and with much assurance, was:
‘NO! Because I remember HOW HE SAID, WHAT HE LOOKED AND… HOW I FEEL…’
Of course, I expected no less than the complete and utter support of the rest of my cast who were, at this point, to be found intently and determinedly looking at the floor… shaking with laughter.
Moral to the story: The sun makes you stupid. But it is bloody lovely after all.
AND DON’T FORGET TO WEAR SUN CREAM!!
Or you’ll end up looking like this:
That's all folks!