At school, I was always one of those "cultural" kids - the ones who love drama and public speaking. I was what you might call "athletically challenged". Couldn't run long distances without passing out (have always been unfit, even as a sprog which goes to show), couldn't run short distances quickly (but I was forced to do it, and I amused everyone with my somewhat unorthodox running style/running lack-of-style), couldn't throw and couldn't catch (and yet I was still forced to play netball - I'm starting to think I went to a very sadistic school) and couldn't hit stuff either (so there went tennis, softball, hockey and being in the school gang).
But I could talk. Damn, could I talk! Give me an audience with a donkey in it, and I'd talk the hind leg off the donkey (then I'd rush it to a vet because I'm verbal, not cruel!). Which meant that I had a natural affinity for drama. Loved it! The stage, the lights, the scripts, the yelling at people... (Erm, I was better at directing than acting).
Which is why I love cultural events and the arts. Buy me tickets to a play/musical and I'm in raptures. My friend Craig and I almost got thrown out of "Chicago" in Soho because we kept making jazz hands and singing over the actor while he was belting out "Mr Cellophane". (Which is ironic, because there's no way Craig and I could possibly relate to that song. No one would ever look through us - mostly because we'd never let them. We're very-in-your-face kind of people.).
So put me in Grahamstown for the Arts Festival, and I'm in heaven. Put me in Edinburgh for the many Festivals and I'm in the VIP section of heaven.
To be continued....
No comments:
Post a Comment