"The whole world these days," roared Oscar in a furious froth, "is run by hypochondriacs, insurance companies and those possessed of a maternal instinct!"
He and Sam Adams were perched on the two barstools in the tiny kitchen of the bachelor apartment at what had been the Riverside Theatre, on the bank of the River Mal. I was perched precariously on Oscar's shoulder, precariously because my bearer was not following Hamlet's advice to the players to '...not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently...' he was throwing his arms about in excessive gestures that were accompanied by a spume of fricative spittle. Sam just sat quietly and fumed in anger... frustrated anger, his knuckles white with violent intent.
"An additional fire-escape indeed - how LUDICROUS!" bellowed Oscar in rage. "They're all in cahoots, the lot of 'em: Players, Council, Health and Safety bimbos...!"
"Would have been more useful if she had ordered steel grills over all the windows on this side," mumbled Sam. "There'll be shards of glass showering all over everyone in here if those kids get any power and accuracy into their kicks."
Until the rugby-football World Cup had ended so gloriously in Australia, we had enjoyed nothing but advantages from our sharing of the riverbank with Malcaster R.F.C. The rugby club car-park would always be empty when our Audiences needed to use it and, during the annual flood, we could gauge the depth of the deluge by how much of the goal-posts showed above water-level. Now, however, the car-park was jam-packed with family cars whose owners were yelling at little boys and girls all round the goalposts. We watched them teaching the kids to walk backwards from and stand at right-angles to the ball, then to lean forward with hands clasped together in an attitude of prayer while looking sideways at the ball and then at the space above the bar and between the posts before taking their kicks more in hope than in expectation. Mr. Jonny Wilkinson had a lot to answer for.
We had reached a critical point in the progression of events that followed the passing of their old friend, the late Sir Jeremy Akehurst, KCBE, MM, LGSM, ADB, STSD, whose funeral was reported in my last Jottings, a couple of weeks or so ago.
And what a three weeks have we HAD, here in peaceful Malcaster!
You may recall my mentions of our meeting with Sir Jeremy, at which he reorganised the ownership structure of the Granary Theatre and stressed his overriding desire to draw back 'Shakespeare's Audience' (as he called it) into Theatre. What he was at pains to explain was that The Restoration of the Monarchy in England, after the revolt by puritans was brought to nothing, saw a re-opening of the theatres. But they were not the same theatres that Cromwell had closed - the 'wooden Os' - based on former bear-baiting arenas, they were buildings constructed specifically for the putting on of plays and full of expensive machinery. Admission to the new buildings was so costly that ordinary working people were effectively excluded. Whereas the Elizabethan Audiences comprised of all the inhabitants of London Town regardless of class, trade or wealth, the Restoration audiences were toffs, and so Theatre continued all the way through to the present day. Apart from the Music Halls in Victorian times, Theatre became the province of the professional classes who exercised snobbery. Sir Jeremy expressed an envy for football teams, who could attract Audiences numbered in their thousands, while Theatre Audiences dwindled as television gained primacy.
Sir Jeremy enthused about the possibilities that would be opened by organising and promoting Theatre so that it was accessible and attractive to all classes in society. Sam and Oscar agreed with him wholeheartedly. To attract even a fraction of the people who regularly followed the Malcaster Rovers soccer team at matches in the Football Combination League would fill all of the seats in the Granary Theatre for more performances of plays prepared to the same high standards of theatrecraft, but designed to involve the minds and the enthusiasms of all sectors of the Malcaster community, not just the ones who saw themselves as 'the professional classes'. The work of the Actors' Workshop - run by Oscar as organising guru and Sam as coach in all the skills of the actor's trade - was seen as an effort to follow Sir Jeremy's teaching.
Only a week remained after the funeral to pull together 'Your Faithful Servants', which was the name chosen for the Actors' Workshop production. It used the title of its Act One, which was Joe Orton's 'The Good and Faithful Servant', to encapsulate the theme of Act Two, the improvised play directed by my friend Skap. Act Two made wry comment about the unnecessary pressures forced on working people in the period that began in The Seventies (when the Orton play is set) and is still progressing deleteriously in the present day. The show included video sequences filmed in various interior and exterior locations around Malcaster and played in performance on a large screen. It also included some jolly songs with poignant lyrics and exciting dance routines. In short, the production was a gem of constant entertainment, with lots of laughs and excitement, and it told an unpalatable truth... it was a piece of work of which the Granary Theatre justifiably could feel proud ... and fulfilled.
Of that intervening week, one evening's rehearsal was sacrificed to Granary Theatre business, so that's when the production's simple setting was moved into the Rehearsal Studio, where the two performances were due to take place, while the Extraordinary General Meeting went ahead in the main auditorium. About half of the members - 150-odd people - turned up for the E.G.M., which was under the control of our reigning Chairman, Maureen Pugh (whom you may remember as the Director of 'Salad Days', earlier in the year). Maureen is a smashing lady, much admired by Penny and myself, also applauded by Oscar for not calling herself something daft like 'Chairperson' or 'Chair' on account she has not got four legs and she's smarter than any man in the group except me. Maureen called the meeting to order and got it started by introducing the man who sat beside her on the stage as Sir Jeremy's solicitor.
The main business was to appraise the membership of the differences that Sir Jeremy's death had made to the organization. After all, he had been Chief Executive of Ariel Properties Ltd., which had owned the freehold of the granary since he acquired the building in 1952 and leased it to Malcaster Players at a peppercorn rent. Some weeks before his death, he had summoned Oscar and Sam to The Laurels rest home for elderly gentlefolk and, with the aid of his solicitor, appointed them both to the board of Ariel Properties. The company, by the way, had acquired many other properties over the years, so it was prosperous - it was in a substantial way of business.
Information about the new arrangement had to remain confidential until this meeting, so of course rumours were rife and the worst was anticipated: would the 'new owners' increase the rent? Would they impose restrictions on the Players? Would they insist that the building was overrun by a rabble like the oiks and tarts who comprised the Actors' Workshop members? Penny and I sat quietly in our vantage point, tuning into the thoughts of those who attended. There was apprehension and defensiveness because they saw their 'traditions', their 'way of life' under threat. From one point in the auditorium, in the shadows near the back, I sensed a focus of hate, resentment and malice emanating from one small and influential person with a score to settle.
The meeting proceeded in an orderly manner throughout that informative phase, with Maureen and the lawyer droning on through the business. It perked up a bit when Sam was called onstage to read Sir Jeremy's entreaty to the Granary Players to bend every effort to 'regaining Shakespeare's Audience'. Many of the attendees were there simply to provide a quorum that could oppose any potentially damaging suggestions and to vote through any formal business, as required. We knew that Rollo was getting the bar ready for a rush of trade when the meeting finished. A sizeable majority were constitutionally licking their lips in anticipation. I could find nobody among them, except Oscar and Cara, who intended to follow Sir Jeremy's advice.
We reached 'Any Other Business', when everybody hoped there was none, but a small figure arose to her feet in the back row. It was bloody Gwyneth.
"Madam Chairman," she began, "I would like to propose that - out of respect for our famous benefactor - we rename the theatre in his honour. I propose that the name 'Granary Theatre' is henceforth abandoned and replaced by a new title: 'The Sir Jeremy Akehurst Memorial Theatre', which I think will be found universally acceptable."
At that, the solicitor got to his feet and asked if he could speak.
"I hate to disappoint everybody if it really was a majority view that this theatre should adopt Sir Jeremy's name, but I must advise you that - in accordance with his instructions - the name is already in use, applied to a theatre building and legally registered as such." This caused a buzz of interested comment, in which I formed an opinion that Gwyneth already knew the truth and was merely causing trouble. "The former Riverside Theatre," continued the solicitor, "has been renamed 'The Jeremy Akehurst Memorial People's Own Theatre' or 'The Jampot' for short. which Sir Jeremy considered highly amusing and most appropriate."
"The Jampot?" queried Maureen, from the chair.
"The Jampot," confirmed the solicitor.
"But the Riverside Theatre was bought by Sam Adams from the Malcaster Players, as we were known, to make it into our ... erm ... I mean HIS ... home!" squawked Gwyneth. "I find this turn of events suspicious and repulsive. I call on Mr. Adams to withdraw his renaming intention or to resign from membership of the Granary Players. If he refuses to do either of these things, I feel it my duty to withdraw from the Actors' Workshop production which was due to open here on Thursday." Her use of the past tense was not wasted on the audience. Ever since Sam and Oscar had drawn her into the production in order to channel into useful effect her opposition to Actors' Workshop activity, she had made herself indispensable to the production. Indeed, she had become its central character and the star of the show.
So... to cut a long story short, that is how Cara was persuaded out of retirement from acting to replace Gwyneth, who was unmovable in her resolution to vandalise not only the production, but also any further progress by the Actors' Workshop. To Cara's everlasting credit, she was word-perfect for the Final Dress Rehearsal on the following evening in the Rehearsal Studio. In fact, one suspects that she knew all along that Gwyneth intended to sabotage the production if she could. Skap and his team were delighted with the result, the improvised play took on a fresh spontaneity, a vitality that would have been missing if Gwyneth had stayed.
Gwyneth busied herself about organizing a boycott among Malcaster Players members of the two 'members only - admission free' performances, so it was a good thing that the team-members had been encouraged to invite their friends and relatives.
But the Malcaster Gazette sent a reporter and a photographer for the first night. Their coverage was so full of praise and enthusiasm for the production that it attracted the attention of Great Surrey Radio and an excerpt was broadcast. Immediately, a clamour went up among the public for more performances, which of course had become politically impossible at The Granary. Plans were put in hand to develop the production at The Jampot, where the very name itself had endeared the place to the imagination of most Malcunians. Work to complete the refurbishment went forward at an accelerated pace. Soon we were ready for the final inspection by Health and Safety inspectors as a prerequisite to allowing in a paying public with full insurance.
Political correctness forbids my description of the inspection team, but it is sufficient to note that their knowledge of theatrical matters was outmatched by their dexterity with even the most obscure safety regulations. Yet, I was surprised to note that the leading inspector had a lock of hair fashionable draped over her right eye, which must have dangerously impaired her vision. Nonetheless, even after all electrical cabling and lantern-suspension had been arranged according to her requirements, we still needed that extra fire-escape to be fitted near the acting area.
Sinead arrived during the final stages of the safety inspection, which caused a faint glimmer of hope that common sense might prevail, but the chief inspector seemed to have an inbuilt resistance to anyone who matched her image of colonialists and slave-traders. Even greater hope surged when Skap strolled in and exercised his dusky charms, but by then she had made her decision and signed the notices. We all tried to interest the inspectors in joining the Actors' Workshop, but it cut no ice.
A rugby ball bounced aimlessly against the wall, well below the window.
Oscar slurped his coffee reflectively. A silence prevailed.
"Erm..." ventured Sam, carefully. "Put your thinking cap on for a moment, Oscar, and consider this: the major objection to issuance of the Safety Certificate revolves around our ability to quickly evacuate about seventy people from this building in the event of fire or similar emergency. Our problem is created by the fact that the auditorium happens to be about five meters above ground level. Right?"
"Right," said Oscar.
"What's the difference between our location and that of a passenger aircraft that has made an emergency landing? Think about it... then consider that we have Parnell's aircraft works located five miles away at Chetwynd... both of us served our apprenticeships there and these days they scrap redundant airliners..."
And that is how The Jampot Theatre opened with its first production of a new era in its life, with 'Your Faithful Servants', prepared and performed by the Ariel Actors' Workshop.
The premiere performance was preceded by a ceremony of unveiling the simple illuminated sign-board that proclaimed the spruce building's name: "THE JAMPOT", then in smaller letters of explanation "The Jeremy Akehurst Memorial People's Own Theatre", with a blasted fanfare from the loud-speakers, a volley of fireworks and a cascade of rugby footballs kicked from the adjacent goal-posts as a gesture of neighbourly friendliness by members of Malcaster R.F.G.
The main fire escape from the auditorium is recognisable as one of those inflatable chutes that are described to all airline passengers when the safety arrangements are explained to them by a flight attendant. Fortunately, its efficacy has yet to be tested in a real emergency.
And, fortuitously, a rugby ball has yet to test the steel grills that are now fitted over all pitch-side windows. This failure by the goal-kickers to match Mr. Wilkinson's prowess is a source of relief, additionally, to our son and daughter - Larry and Viv - who have their nest in a cleft in the trunk of a nearby willow tree. It is their hope that soon they can raise a family in peace while Penny and I continue with our annual fruitfulness among the ivy under the eaves of the Granary Theatre.
Jonah was a very experience director, teacher and writer who sadly passed away in February 2006. He was also the author of the highly successful "Playmaker - The Craft of Directing Plays (The Way I Seen It)".