This principle illustrated itself to me once again very recently, when even my 13 years' experience of Amateur Drama did not prepare me for the Moment of Truth, which, true to form, jumped up and bit me on the bottom just as I wasn't expecting it. There I was, sailing through my private lesson, which was preparing me for my impending Adult Silver Medal Drama exam, and chuffed that I was doing quite well. Well, not altogether quite well - Things Not Having Gone According to Plan before leaving the house, I had actually left 2 fairly important props behind: to wit, 2 cushions. Now that may seem like a minor thing, but believe me, no matter how well anyone can mime, it is positively physically impossible to thump a virtual cushion. Twice. I could easily have faked hastily stuffing both dusters under one of the non-existing, pretend cushions, and my pinny under the other - no problem at all. Believe me, you'd have seen , vividly, in your mind's eye not only the cushions, but also the frills and even the plumpness - you might even have spotted the stain I keep trying to remember to turn the 'right' way round. 

But that thump is something I could not have faked, since it was interspersing a bit of important, as well as terse, dialogue. Can you imagine? "But no…" "THUMP!" "Not a red cent…" "THUMP!" No, I didn't see that happening either, even if it was only a rehearsal. And so, quickly acting on the cunning plan that my inventive brain sprouted with immediate brilliance, I rolled up 2 hastily scrounged tea towels, stuffed them in the detachable hood of my anorak and deftly deposited this substitute package on the one 'armchair', then rolled the anorak itself into a neat parcel for the other chair. Really, I was quite pleased with myself. And all would have gone exceedingly well, if it hadn't been that I'd chosen to put the 'cushions' the wrong way around. "Not possible", I hear you say. Don't you believe it - this is where the nth Law of Amateur Dramatics neatly and inevitably steps in. 

There I was, as I said, sailing through my lesson with verve and gusto. Got to the line. Remembered where I had to be. Remembered the line. Remembered the moves required of me. Delivered the first 'pre-thump' line. "If she had any money to leave us…" Still pleased with myself, although of course the tone of voice reflected the frustration and fury felt by the character at the time. "But no…" Pick up the 'cushion' to be thumped. "Not a red…" THUMP! And even while my brain reflected, in that detached way that one has during such moments, that it's much more difficult to get a really satisfying, resounding thump out of a rolled and folded anorak like you do out of a stuffed, velvet cushion, 3 things happened at the same time: I delivered the end of the line, "… cent!" while delivering also the second thump, failed to notice my holding the anorak at a different angle than I do the cushion, and a clatter of £1.35 in change tinkled to the floor, totally belying the purport of my words.

The lesson came to a sudden and immediate halt, understandably. We rolled about laughing. Fortunately my teacher has a good sense of humour, and it was certainly exercised that day. We pulled ourselves together. We resumed the lesson. I turned the anorak over, just to be on the safe side. I repeated the line.
You can feel this one coming, can't you?
I had more change in my pocket.

Honestly, I had no idea I carried so many coins in that wretched anorak. Three times money clattered. If I hadn't expected it the first time round, the second time was still a surprise. But the third caused incredulity.

I shall be certain to take my cushions, come Friday, for my exam…! That's one thing I'm absolutely sure about.

the Hart