‘I’ll tell you, it’s not that comfy. It’s easier to breathe in jeans and a jumper.’ I love this dress, want to be buried in it, but Ariana had laced it so tightly this morning, I think she muddled me with one of her clients – certainly halfway through the lacing I wished I had come up with a safe word. ‘And when Shakespeare lived he wrote thirty-seven plays, thirty-seven! And even more sonnets, one hundred and fifty-four of those, that’s a huge number. Sonnets are poems and we’re going to talk about those later but when it comes to Christmas, out of all those plays and poems he only mentioned it three times. That’s all.’ I hold up three fingers to reinforce the point and catch a glimpse of Mr Latham’s really?-oh-I’m-sorry face and can’t help but smile. ‘But that is not going to stop us now. Oh no. We’re going to spend the day looking at this amazing man, looking at some of the stories he told, looking at how people celebrated Christmas when he was alive, and generally have a day packed full of loads of fun. And I can tell you, I am so excited. I cannot wait to meet you all.’ And I curtsy. Of course I do, because who wouldn’t wearing a dress like this, having finished a speech whilst standing on a stage? Looks like my dad’s sense of showmanship hasn’t completely skipped the next generation after all.
A few hours later, I’m sat in the hall on one of those little PE benches, legs akimbo and not exactly looking the picture of Elizabethan decorum. It may be December but I’m as sweaty as a pig in July. I have spent this morning with the little ones; we dressed up as kings and queens, fairies, donkeys, bears, Roman generals, witches, soldiers, and put on plays. We made our own Tudor Christmas decorations from ivy and pine, we spiced and honied and drank our own communal wassail (apple juice – even with my slightly shitty adherence to social conventions I know ale in a primary school is a no-no) and we talked aboutTwelfth Nightand watched the British Council’s amazing short animation of it. This afternoon I have done a little more in-depth work with the older ones; we talked about themes inTwelfth Nightand tried to do a scene or two with cue scripts, not an easy task but hilarious and a great insight into Elizabethan theatre. But right now, all that leaping about in this dress means if I sweat any more I’ll be able to fit into those trousers I bought four years ago and so far have not managed to get more than half a thigh into. Do people still pass out from exhaustion in the twenty-first century? Are smelling salts kept in first-aid boxes these days?
I have an hour left to go and truth is whilst I’m dehydrated, exhausted and broken I am so high. This has been amazing. I’m literally living my dream and the kids are so receptive, more so than in my wildest imaginings. I’d worried like mad when I had been asked to deliver a workshop for each age group on Shakespeare with practically zero preparation time and the knowledge that Shakespeare didn’t really ever reference Christmas, much to the dismay of modern-day directors looking for a sure-fire festive box-office draw. But I’ve done it. I don’t want to get carried away but I think I’ve done it quite well.
‘Are you okay?’ Mr Latham kneels down beside me. ‘Can I get you anything? A glass of water?’
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ I say, trying to sit up straight and knowing it would be deeply inappropriate to ask him to loosen my stays.
‘I wanted to come and let you know how enthused the children are, they can’t wait for you to come back, so I’ll definitely be asking you to come and do more workshops in summer, if that’s okay with you?’
‘Oh, wow, yes, of course it is. I’d love to.’
‘And I’m so sorry I asked you to do Christmas. I’m no expert, it didn’t occur to me that Shakespeare didn’t write lots about it.’
‘No worries. It was just a matter of tying what I could to the Christmas theme and bringing in Tudor and Jacobean Christmas ideas. I enjoyed it.’ I don’t mention I had been awake and anxious half the night .
‘Well, so did the kids. And I have another proposition for you. Shift up.’ He stands from kneeling and indicates he wants me to move along the bench for him to sit down. I try to control my breath, aware that the Tudor neckline means my bosom is heaving frenetically. The man is going to think I have some kind of sexual disorder at this rate.
‘It wasn’t just me that got caught out by the entertainer’s cancellation today. We’re part of an academy trust and all the other schools did as well. There’s six of us in total and obviously I didn’t want to say anything until I had seen you in action – I needed to be sure that you could deliver – but having seen your work today and chatting to other members of staff, I was wondering if you’d be willing to step into the breach again? Each of the schools had the same entertainer booked for a day next week as we did. That’s five days, right up until the end of term. Are you free to take those slots too? What do you think?’
This is not helping my heartbeat. This is more exciting than the thought of a filthy proposition. I have two shifts at the shop next week, but they’re lates and if I can get someone to cover me for the first hour I should make it. I’ll be shattered at the end of the week and possibly never be able to stand again, but five full day’s work, doing this. Oh yes!
‘Oh, and I’ve told them all you charge £250 a day, which they’re happy to pay because the insurance for the cancelled entertainer will cover it.’
‘Oh … wow … oh … of course.’
‘Of course?’ He doesn’t look like he is convinced.
‘Yes. Yes, of course!’ I say, my enthusiasm clear now my initial shock is waning. ‘Yes, that’s incredible.’ I want to high-five him but am too scared that the sweat patches under my arms will knock him out. Five days’ work! I knew this dress would be an investment.
So how did it go?
Oh. My. God.
Good OMG or evil bad OMG?
So good. So, so good.
I’m glad. Want to meet up and do something Christmassy?
I can’t. I think I may be dead.
Texting well for a dead person.
Dead any minute. Exhausted. But guess what, I’ve been hired for a full week for the rest of the schools within the Academy Trust.
No way. I’m so pleased. Well deserved. I knew you’d be brilliant.
Thank you.
We have to celebrate.
Can’t, told you. Practically dead and I still have my other jobs. Need to be up at half five again tomorrow. But if you’re desperate to see me, and I can tell you are, I’m spending the rest of the day tomorrow babysitting Marsha. You can come meet us at Luisa’s if you like.
I can do that. Afternoon okay? Have to do mum stuff in the morning. And boy do I have tales to tell you.
Afternoon all good. And look forward to it. x
