“ ’Mon The Players! ”

East Kilbride Festival here we come
To perform The Player’s two plays
Lines are all learnt and hopes are high
We’ll act out hearts out on both days!

Our first play is quite a dark one
By our Steven; “Not What You Think”
Serious and sombre, a sensitive piece
And it should make folks sit up and think!

Our second; “The Dramatics of Amateurs”
A witty satire by our Nic
Sharp, appealing and so much fun
The competition we’re sure to lick!

Players; this is your time in the spotlight
So shine and leave the audience aghast
We have faith in you all to be brilliant
But most importantly, please all have a blast!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Break a leg folks! Suze xx)

Full details can be seen on The St. Joseph’s Players website: http://www.stjosephsplayers.co.uk

She knew she was busted, and denial was futile, but what else can you say when you’ve been caught doing something illegal?

Although Lucy felt as though she’d committed a crime, she wasn’t so sure that the Police would consider what she had just done to be a bookable offence. Trevor however, would view her behaviour as deserving of 20 years, or at the very least, an extra two hours in the sweatbox. The sweatbox was Lucy’s nickname for the gym. “The Gym”;  two words which, in Lucy’s mind, were usually accompanied with an imaginary, yet suitably dramatic, “dum dum dummmmmm” movie sound effect

“I don’t believe it!  After all we’ve talked about you go and do this!!!”  Trevor was in full flow now.  Moving Lucy aside, the true horror of what she had done was revealed to him.  On the table sat an empty plate.  A plate that had, only 15 minutes ago, held two gloriously fattening, and totally forbidden, chocolate muffins. Looking at the plate, and then at Lucy, and then back at the plate, Trevor’s frustration manifested itself in the form of a smack on Lucy’s arm, causing her to feebly yelp “Ow!”

“Both of them!  You ate BOTH of them!  For goodness sakes Lucy.”

Lucy looked down at her feet, (or rather, her toes – she hadn’t seen her whole feet for a few years from that angle) and quietly began her defence.  “I’m sorry Trevor, honest I am… but I was starving… that mushy bran stuff that I had for breakfast went straight through me, again… and I felt quite queasy… and you wouldn’t want me passing out now would you?  And the muffins were just there, looking at me, virtually begging me to eat them…”  Lucy cringed at the old cliché she’d added at the end, but what the heck; in for a penny, in for a… lecture, no matter what.

Her voice trailed off as she looked at Trevor, who was still glaring at her, toned arms folded, with that look.  That look that Lucy was becoming so very familiar with, that screamed “I don’t care what you say, you did something I told you not to do”.

Taking a deep breath and, after what seemed like a lifetime, unfolding his arms, Trevor pulled out a chair and guided Lucy on to it.  This was classic Trevor, and Lucy knew his anger was subsiding, and the next phase would be forced sympathy, then gentle understanding, closely followed by reverse psychology.  She sighed, slumped down, and waited for the lecture.

“I know it’s hard work Lucy, I really do.  After a lifetime of eating what you wanted and not caring how you look, it must be very hard to change your ways.  I know you are trying, and it’s obvious you will occasionally give into temptation, but even you must know what you’ve just done is wrong.  Eating those muffins must have set me, I mean you, back a month!”

Trevor’s last sentence summed up what this was really all about;  Trevor.  The thought of Lucy failing to lose weight was his worst nightmare.  Other guys she knew didn’t seem to care about her size, but it was a huge (pardon the pun) issue for Trevor.  Lean, fit, health conscious Trevor, who counted every calorie, carb, and gram of salt.

She should have known it was a mistake letting him move in, when after only 3 days, he’d replaced her Frosted Flakes for Bran Flakes.  Five days later the lovely soft white bread (which was ideal for bacon butties) had been banished, and brown, wholemeal, nutty cardboard took it’s place.  Lucy had never been so regular in her life.  Too late to do anything about it now though, as he’d sold his flat to finance his new business.  He’d moved in about 6 weeks ago, but to Lucy, it felt like 6 years.  Oh for the luxury of full fat cream in her tea, a slice of banoffee cheesecake, or Black Forrest gateau, or just a bag of cheese and onion crisps.  Lucy felt a small dribble of drool easing it’s way out of the corner of her mouth.

“Are you listening to me?”  Trevor had noticed her sugar glazed look as she stared at the empty plate, and knew she wasn’t, but short of smacking her again, words were his only weapon.  “If you don’t want to change, then FINE!  If you want to look like this for the rest of your life, then FINE!”.

Laughing and joking around the camp fire
They drank whiskey and sang stupid songs
Talking about how they’d change the world
And how to right its many wrongs

Then out of the woods he approached them
A hunched, stumbling, old stranger
Seeing his face and his wrinkles
They didn’t think he could be any danger

They offered him food and sat him down
Gave him a stiff drink and a smoke
He ate his meal quickly in silence
And then ever so slowly he spoke…