A Love Letter To Theatre

Dear Theatre…

We do hope you read that title in a Welsh accent so that it rhymes…a la Emily in Paris in a French accent. The next post in our love letter series, inspired by Valentine’s Day, is L’s love letter to theatre. We hope you enjoy reading it.

The last time L stepped into a theatre, almost a year ago

Dear Theatre,

Where do I begin? What a year we’ve had. I suppose, rather than dwell on the present too much, I’ll think of fonder times. It began, as most of my best stories do, at my Nan’s house.

Growing up, I’d spend endless summers and half terms at my grandparent’s home in Wales. My favourite pastime was to watch Disney films in the conservatory while I doodled drawings and did my colouring-in. Once I’d grown out of princesses and talking animals (as if I ever have), Nanny Val pointed me in the direction of the great movie musicals. I devoured The Wizard of Oz, Calamity Jane and Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, but then came the real lightbulb moment: Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. The version we had was taped from the telly by my lovely and much-missed grandfather, known to his grandchildren as Lloydie, which resulted in a lack of crispness in quality, wonky alignment in the credit sequences and the entire film having a slightly brown hue, but I didn’t mind in the slightest. Once I had the bug, that was it.

One of the more unusual venues I’ve worked in; a converted chapel in Merthyr Tydfil. My Land’s Shore, Theatr Soar, 2018

I became obsessed with cast recordings, thanks mainly to the musical, Annie. It was a childhood favourite and we played the cassette of the original Broadway cast recording every morning, literally every morning of Year 4, on the hour’s journey from home to my school in South London. It was around this time that I also started the heavy lobbying of my parents to send me to a performing arts boarding school. I also have a vague memory of announcing to my mother that I wanted to “become an orphan” (well, Annie, Anastasia and Harry Potter were, so why couldn’t I be?). The response from E? “Lily, do you know what an orphan is?” I remember replying along the lines that of course I did: orphans were children who lived in a house with all their friends and got to sing and dance and have adventures all day long.

E relented and off to a part-time stage school I went. This progressed to full-time performing arts education from the age of 14, and although I never wangled the boarding school bit, it was heaven. At the end of each term we got to perform in a theatre; my entire reason for being at this point. I remember walking through the rows of seats in the dark auditorium. Theatres were dangerous, our teachers warned, things could go wrong. For me though, theatres were exciting, terrifying, huge and beautiful. We were always chaperoned backstage, but once you were out in the warmth of the footlights, that was it – you were on your own. That sense of independence and control was palpable, and exhilarating, and wonderful!

The Opal Theatre, on board The Oasis of the Seas, where L performed in Cats 2017

Oh, my theatre. How I love your traditions. The opening night cards and flowers lining the corridor to the dressing rooms. The hunt for the “best spot” in the dressing room. Ideally this is at the end of the row, near the window, next to the coffee machine and as far away as humanly possibly from the door and showers. I love: the hushed whispers backstage when an understudy gets to step into the spotlight; the onstage physical and vocal warm-up, everyone bare-faced and wig-capped like an alien army; signing in and out at the stage door; getting post (and Amazon Prime) deliveries to the theatre because it is quite honestly our second home and where you’ll always find us; the rush to get on the road and home on the final night in a regional venue; the tiredness-induced delirium of a panto three-show Boxing day schedule; Facetime calls with other theatrical friends who are working as you prepare for “the half”; grabbing a “medicinal” wine – just the one – after the show; travelling home on the Tube with a full face of stage make-up; the bows and panto’s celebratory “walk down”; and the overture – oh how I love the overture!

Cats – can you spot Lily?

My love of the theatre doesn’t just exist as an actor, I am a passionate audience member too. Settling into those plush seats or having to lean forward in the Gods as the lights go dark. There is nothing like that feeling. Grabbing a drink at the interval and swapping thoughts, being moved to tears in Act 2 and trying to stifle a whimper (thank you Hamilton; as impressive on the small screen at home as it was on stage). I enjoy the moments of leaving the theatre after final curtain, having stayed to listen to the outro in full and having applauded the orchestra, obviously, and rejoining the real world in the frosty London air. The memorable moments of quickly orientating myself to whichever street the theatre exit has landed me on and from there finding my way to stage door to wait for the departure of the cast, crew and musicians, to cheer them and thank them for their work. A late evening train snack, while reading the production programme from cover to cover is a critical part of the routine, as is thinking and talking about the production over the following days and, ultimately, falling more in love with the show as you re-listen to and compare and contrast a variety of cast recordings. More magical than all of this though, is getting to share that experience with someone for the first time, whether it’s a little one’s first pantomime or seeing my Dad’s reaction to Billy Elliott; there is nothing quite like it.

The phenomenal Phantom of the Opera, at the Leicester Curve. Photography by Pamela Raith.

I’ve always known that this world is fragile. As an actor, your career is precarious. Growing older changes the roles you’re suitable to play and one injury, including vocal injuries for those of us who sing, can prematurely end that once-in-a-lifetime role. Jobs are lost, shows are closed and reviews can sting. I knew this age-old truth when I entered this industry. What I – what none of us – could have anticipated is what has happened in the last 12 months, and exactly how devastating it would feel.

The cast getting to meet their boss, Lord Lloyd Webber

In June of 2019, I booked a job in the new Cameron Mackintosh UK tour of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera. It was a job I had dreamed of doing since I was a little girl. I had been auditioning for it since I graduated drama school in 2012. Finally, finally, I had done it! On 16 March 2020, the day my Nan had travelled to Leicester to watch the show, we were called on stage about an hour before curtain-up for the evening’s performance and advised to go home for the rest of the day. The pandemic was progressing at such a rate that the theatre and production company had no option but to suspend the show until further guidance could be obtained from the Government. That was it: despite exhaustive and, I’ve no doubt, exhausting work by the production company to try and save our show, we didn’t manage to reopen. The pandemic has been devastating for many thousands of people and this is no “woe is me” story, but the day our beloved show closed and the weeks following, I shared that sense of devastation. Actors are nothing if not resilient and in the year since Phantom had to close in Leicester, I’ve appeared in online concerts. I’ve also felt the security and excitement of having booked three more acting jobs – a commercial, an international tour and a pantomime – only to have all three delayed or cancelled entirely as Covid 19 has continued its rampage. But I’m not giving up and I have hope and optimism: I know theatre will return eventually and I promise to be there as an actor and, more importantly, as an member of the audience when it does. How could I not? It is at my very core and simply my favourite way to spend an evening.

Theatre, I’ve not forgotten you. I miss you. I can’t wait to see you soon. You have my heart ~L.

L in her most recent role: Sybil the Enchantress, in Godalming’s Pantomime, December 2020. Photography courtesy of The Guildford Fringe Theatrical Company.

Please, please do return to theatres once it is safe to do so; it will be curtains without you. In the meantime, here are some helpful ways you can support the arts industry:

Date. Night.

L shares her new favourite lockdown activity – themed date night!

Two words that put the horrors into me and my partner. I have friends that insist a weekly date night becomes a necessary evil once you have children, but we don’t, as yet. Notwithstanding this, and as I mentioned in a previous blog, I’m on the hunt for new activities to keep me out of trouble this lockdown.

Anyone else sick of Zooming?

Before we entered this new normal, one of our shared passions was travel. We loved nothing better than exploring the culture, music and cuisine of an unknown place. It’s something that E lovingly passed down to me. So, given that we can’t currently travel, I thought, why not bring the travel to us?

On our daily walk, we hatched a plan. Each week we will pick a place: a country; a region; a continent; whatever takes our fancy. We will have a home-cooked meal celebrating food from the selected place, followed by a film inspired by or set in the same location. The only rules are: no fish/celery (at Vince’s behest), neither of us can have seen the movie before and we have to be brave and include at least one item on the menu we wouldn’t normally prepare and eat at home. And there you have it, dinner and movie, lockdown style.

For our inaugural week, we decided the theme should be the USA, as this seemed both easy and wholly appropriate. After toying with whether to go down the TexMex, Soul Food or cowboy food route, we settled on a menu inspired by our childhood and holidays.

And yes – aperitif was spelt phonetically for humour. The menu was designed to be read in your best southern drawl

Buffalo chicken wings and ice cold beer immediately transports me back to working for Royal Caribbean aboard the beautiful Oasis of the Seas. Every Wednesday, the ship would host a “Crew Appreciation Evening” where all departments were welcome to join for free beer and wings. For variety, I’d love to swap out some of the wings for cauliflower florets for a vegan twist.

Celeriously delicious. Breaking my own non-celery rule in week one!

Our main course had to be hotdogs. We both had fond memories of those jumbo bad boys from family trips to Florida. Now let me tell you a secret: the trick to a great hotdog is nothing to do with the bun or meat; it’s all about the toppings. We created our own selection bar with crispy bacon bits, relish, macaroni cheese, chopped onion, mustard, ketchup and grated Cheddar. Really the combinations are endless; you could feasibly chuck any leftovers a top your hotdog and make it delicious. Chilli con carne dog? Sauerkraut and smoked cheese? Linda McCartney veggie-dogs and mushrooms? Ok, ok – I’ll stop!

DIY Hot Dog Bar

After a long debate with E about what film we should screen, (she hilariously suggested An American Werewolf in London…yep), we settled on Tony Kaye’s American History X. It was quite a heavy watch of a Thursday evening but I couldn’t believe how relevant it still is 23 years on. It’s available on Netflix and worth a watch if you haven’t seen it before.

Our evening finished with a slice of good old-fashioned apple pie. It’s long been known between the de-la-Haye Girls that E is the baker. Whilst we both love to potter in the kitchen, anytime something sweet has to be made it never goes well in my hands. But, dear reader, I’m delighted to report that I may have broken the curse! It might not have been the prettiest pie but the bottom wasn’t burnt and the filling tasted good. Better than good actually; it was delicious.

The apple pie was A-OK

It’s such simple idea but we both really got into it, listening to Johnny Cash all day and feeling like we’d escaped for just a moment. Next week we are going to Japan. Recommendations for food and films are most welcome! ~L.

Not-So-Basic Banana Bread

It’s lockdown, of course we must have banana bread.

Slice Appeal

This third lockdown is hitting a little different isn’t it? Discounting those four weeks in November of last year, our only other experience of lockdown was during the spring. Getting out and safely enjoying your local surroundings is much tougher on a cold, dark evening. In fact nearly everything that lifted my spirits last time just isn’t cutting the mustard this time round. I think the key to getting us through the next few weeks, or indeed months, is changing things up!

I’m taking full advantage of all the activities I didn’t turn my hand to in the initial lockdown and top of my list is baking banana bread. E treated me to the new Nigella Lawson cookbook Cook, Eat, Repeat for Christmas and this recipe is very much inspired by her gluten-free version. Mine is best served still slightly warm with ice cream or early the next day, fridge cold and lathered in salted butter.

Serving Size:
10 generous slices
Time:
1 hour + cooling time
Difficulty:
lemon squeezy

Ingredients

  • 175g flour
  • 100g ground almonds
  • 2 tsp baking powder
  • 1 tsp bicarb of soda
  • pinch of salt
  • 4 bananas (the more bruised the better)
  • 2 tsp vanilla extract
  • 100g Greek yoghurt
  • 2 eggs
  • 100ml vegetable oil
  • 125g brown sugar
  • 100g dark chocolate chips
  • 100g walnuts
  • a spoonful of Nutella (for swirling purposes)

Directions

  • Preheat the oven to 150℃ and stick some baking paper into the base of your loaf tin.
  • Mix together your flour, almonds, baking powder and salt
I do find this recipe so very appeeling
  • Peel and mash the bananas, a good old fork will do for this. Then, take out any aggressions you’re harbouring, possibly towards certain politicians who will remain nameless and beat in the vanilla, yoghurt, eggs, oil and sugar. Make sure you do these one by one so as not to overwhelm the mixture.
Cracking series, that
  • When you’re happy that everything is well combined, tentatively mix in your flour. Again, unless you want your kitchen floor to look like you got into a fight with a pastry chef, go slow. Or if you’re using one of those fancy KitchenAids, frankly you’re cheating.
A great excuse to finish off any baking bits left over from Christmas
  • Here’s the fun bit, fold in the chocolate chips and chopped walnuts, I’ll allow you a blitz in the blender if you really loathe chopping. And just to be extra decadent, I added a spoonful of Nutella and swirled it into the cake batter to make a marbled effect.
She’s a beauty!
  • Gingerly tip into the lined loaf tin and pop her into the oven for an hour. At this point I poked a kebab skewer (of course I don’t have cake testers) into the centre and it was still pretty liquid. I turned the heat down to 120℃ and let her sit there for another 20 minutes whilst I went on a walk.
Must…resist…urge…to…eat…
  • Tempting as the smells may be, leave your loaf to cool down before you attempt removal! It’ll be worth the wait, trust me! We had ours for pudding with freshly sliced bananas and cream. It’s healthy because there’s fruit in it, right?
It’s worth the wait – you can crust me

You can always swap the nuts out if you prefer or use rice flour and GF baking powder to turn this coeliac friendly. I’m sure E has some tips for a vegan version too! Happy baking ~L.

It’s so good – you won’t beloaf it