The Story's Over.

The lights have gone down.

The last steps have been danced.

The last lyrics have been sung.

The last lines have been spoken.

The set has been dismantled.

The theatre looks like a teaching space again and not an urban cityscape.

Yes folks, after a term of planning and a rehearsal schedule that damn near killed us Haslingden High School's production of West Side Story ended last weekend.
The more I look back at the play's run (which sold to capacity every single night) the more I'm staggered by the scale and ambition of the production. When we first began rehearsal my head of department Andy Anderson said;

"We don't do school shows here. We do professional productions."

I'm sure every drama teacher probably says that to their casts before starting work on a school play but, fuck me bumways he meant every word!

Every single person who's seen it has been bowled over by the scale and ambition of the production. The complexity and vibrancy of the dance, the quality, intensity and sincerity of the acting, the dexterity of the music and the singing. Even the set (an audacious piece of engineering pissed all over your preconceptions of a typical school show.


My only regret is that I can't post any photos on here for obvious child protection issues (we all know that the internet is full of nasty paedos!).

Don't get me wrong. This isn't an exercise in self congratulation. I'm not wanking off about how brilliant I am.

Truth be told I did chuff all, relatively speaking.

The purpose of this blog is to accredit in my own way the wonderful people who made the show what it was.

The phenomenon that is Jonathan Gleason did an amazing job with the music as did Kevin Gibbs and Gavin Peel and thanks to all for lending your musical expertise. You all made it look sickeningly easy.

Liza Barrett and Stephanie Addison choreographed dance sequences of such sophistication and ambition that I couldn't help gyrating like a spazz in the wings every time I saw them.

Martin Guppy, Nick Smith, Tom Aston, Jack Prince et al on the technical team did a phenomenal and often thankless task and weren't the bunch of whinging bastards that they were certainly entitled to be.

Lizzy Anthony did such a spectacular job as assistant director and propsmistress that I felt spectacularly inept and disorganised whenever I worked with her. I also felt like a belligerent crotchety shit juxtaposed with her ever-present smile and effortlessly breezy persona.

And Andy Anderson is an inspiration in every sense of the word. His incredible dramatic vocabulary, imaginative and ambitious vision and effortless ability to inspire the kids and us teachers alike have me in absolute awe of the bloke. It was, is and will always be a pleasure and a privilege to work alongside him.

Finally I want to acknowledge the cast.

Holy Motherfudging Monkeys, what a cast!

While there are far too many to name here they are quite simply the most talented bunch of young people I could ever imagine working with.

Thanks to everybody.

It's been an honour!

Goodbye, old friend.

This is not a rant.

You will find no bilious raving here. No copious profanity or verbal assault on pop culture. If you're waiting for me to launch into an over-long onslaught on some public figure, someone who is unaccountably richer or more successful than me, then you're in for a let down. I'm not going to get all lefty and self-righteous.

I will not be using the word twunt in this blog.

This is a eulogy.

The Friday before last I had to put Molly down.

It's taken me this long to be able to bring myself to blog about it. While I realise how little entertainment or benefit readers may derive from this blog (if anyone actually still reads this thing) this is, nonetheless, a significant event in my life and I don't feel like I can resume my normal repetoire of sweary wordplay until I address it.

So, apologies if this departure disappoints you. You are no obligation to continue reading.

This is more for me than it is for you.

I'll keep it brief.

I have lost a good and loyal friend and I will miss her. I have also lost a link to my childhood and my mother. I finally realise that both are gone forever.

I've done the crying. I've done the mourning. I'm over it.

I'm fine!

But I miss my doggy.