Discovering my Red Shoes

A week ago, I wrote of the death of a young woman in our village, and two days later, of a long-time friend and mentor.  And, as they say in those awful TV commercials, there’s more – folk in our immediate friendship circle had their own sadnesses to deal with.  

What a difference a week makes.  I think I have mentioned, and if I haven’t, let me remind you: I live in a wonderful village.  I shall probably not mention it again.  Anyhow, why, today, do I mention it particularly?

Not because we had rain, which we desperately need.

And yes, that collage was made of photographs I took – this week – after the rain;  10mm in just 36 hours. 

Not just because it’s beautiful.

But because on Saturday we went to see a local production.  In many respects, it was just what we all needed.  Not only a good belly laugh – I’ll come back to that – but because it is good to be reminded that goodness and kindness do triumph over evil.  Or to use a more modern analogy:  sh*t is part of the cycle of life.  We need detritus for renewal and growth.

McGregor’s bunch of thespians have nothing if not a sense of humour:  the first of their productions that we saw, was the Rocky Horror Picture Show, a spectacular in which the average age could of the entire cast could not have been a year less than fifty.  The talented wizard responsible for the adaptation of the script and general production has a remarkable knack for creating a show that is around about an hour long, and somehow manages to incorporate vignettes of the locals we know and love.  A fabulous Frank N. Furter, he made.

Photo:  Facebook

On the back of this production, the company was “christened” The Worst End Theatre Company, and has gone on to present annual productions under the leadership of aforesaid wizard.

This year’s production, staged more than 12 months behind schedule is a testimony not just to the village, but also to the lessons of Oz.  Not long into rehearsals, one of the children playing Dorothy was diagnosed with diabetes and has had her own long journey to get over the rainbow.

Sung here by another of my favourites – Ella Fitzgerald. Her rendition of the famous Judy Garland song, unexpectedly reduced me to tears.

Those were not the first tears of the evening.  As the show progressed, thanks to the clever production (she repeats herself) and the joy of living in a small village where you know the characters behind the characters, then next hour and a half were full of tears of laughter and upliftment.  For me, as for many, it was Toto who all but stole the show – along with Lion’s bare toes.  Toto, aka TomTom, and who’s real life “father” is Tin Man, trotted and growled his way across up and down the yellow brick road. 

At different times Toto had a went for the Wicked Witch of the East (who in real life could not be more benign), and then for Lion’s tail.  When that wasn’t enough, Toto thought (pretty frequently) that procreation with Lion's leg was an excellent idea:  the audience screamed!

All this while the bunch of consummate actors, from Munchkin to Dorothy, Scarecrow and Tinman, not to mention courageous Lion, miraculously and professionally managed not to corpse.  Nor did Toto, who, when the Wizard of Oz bestowed his wisdom on all, stood attentively by.

So, why, might you be asking, am I making such a fuss of this?  Well, as a somewhat jaded grown-up watching the play, and thinking about Dorothy’s journey with Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion, down the yellow brick road, via the Emerald City to see the Wizard of Oz and back to McGregor, I realise that this is life.  Tornadoes, real, spiritual and emotional beset us all the time. We just have to get up, and figuratively put on our red shoes and get on with it.  Most of us do that without realising it, and somehow, with the guidance of our Good Witches, we make it through, helped and abetted by our own Dorothys, Scarecrows, Tin Men or Lions.

Sometimes it’s important to look back to see how far we have come.

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