Welcoming in the ‘roaring 20s’

HAVE you stopped saying ‘Happy New Year’ to people you meet? I reckon around January 10 is a good time to stop although given I am still full of pre-Christmas cold, I’m not yet feeling the love for the ‘roaring 20s’ and who regurgitated that 20th century expression anyway?

Probably some City advertising firm with nothing better to do during that nomadic feasting time of Chrimbo limbo.

So hands up if you weren’t ill over Christmas and/or New Year. I bet there aren’t many of you.

It wasn’t so much festive cheer in my house as flu-filled blear, as despite being my mother’s daughter (she was a typical Yorkshire woman), for the first time in living memory, I actually took a couple of sick days off work and ended up carrying my Tesco ‘bag for life’ (thank you Jane) around with me full of balsam infused tissues instead of Prosecco and Godiva chocolates.

So pretty rubbish really. Sadly I missed two socials but I was definitely not going to miss the big knees-up that was our latest programme launch celebration combined with our ‘Adopt a Year’ campaign plus saying thank you to our volunteers, members, sponsors and patrons alongside local businesses. We soon realised the Marine bar would be a bit of a squash so ended up holding it in the auditorium.

With food from the Monmouth Table and musical accompaniment by Lyme’s talented Philip Clouts, it ticked all the boxes for the start of the festive season.

Earlier in the month we were back to being part of a film set when Blast Films took up residence interviewing the crew from the local RNLI station along with a survivor for the BBC2 documentary ‘Saving Lives at Sea’. Sitting in my office cubby hole, I was like Heimdall the Gatekeeper denying access to any unauthorised beings.

Incidentally, I see ‘Ammonite’ is going to be released soon, I haven’t yet had my invite to the premiere, it’s probably in the post.

I read the bosses of the City’s Financial Mile sent a message to all staff telling them to behave at the office parties. Unless things have changed dramatically since my time, that’s a bit like telling a fox to behave in a chicken coop.

Mind you, not the remotest hope of any misbehaviour at our festive do, not being able to speak without coughing between sneezes, I was the complete party-pooper. No corporate gifts either this year but I did enjoy a mince pie (or two) thanks to Gill one of our brilliant volunteers (she makes a mean Dorset Apple Cake too!).

We had a bit of a minor panic a couple of days before our screening of ‘The Polar Express’; after a frantic search for two men willing to play the roles of Father Christmas and the train conductor we needed to find the outfits but as with all things Marine, it was alright on the night… it’s not what you know but who you know.

I’m still in that festive daze of ‘what day is it?’ but given my flu-induced last-minute Christmas shopping nightmare, I’m already making plans for this Christmas; I’ll write my cards by Halloween, do my shopping by Guy Fawkes Night and have a flu jab by Black Friday.

Then I’ll be on the train to London prepped to party armed with my ‘bags for life’ ready to be filled with bottles of bolly and any other comps I can grab from the corporates who’ll be doing nothing more useful than thinking up catchy names for the 21s.

Sophia Moseley
Theatre manager

Woodmead Halls
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