SEX sells. Unless you’re Victoria Beckham and your fashion empire is selling raunchy underwear that has lost its appeal, but naughty knickers aside and ignoring the PC, sex really does sell.
You’re probably wondering where I’m heading with this, but bare, sorry, bear with me.
We’ve enjoyed some brilliant sell-out performances including the Blues Band who needed two ‘humpers’ to help shift their gear. Over the years I have been working at the Marine I’ve come across quite a few colloquial words and phrases, and this one always raises a smile.
In the same way there is a very definite way to stack our theatre chairs, I haven’t yet asked if there is a particular technique to humping.
‘John Illsley: the life and times of Dire Straits’ was another excellent night packed with many well-known chart-topping hits, including ‘Brothers in Arms’ which is when Gill, one of our wonderful volunteers (surname not included to protect the innocent) told me the song evoked very fond memories. The glint in her eye was more than enough when pressed for more information.
But how many of us rushed out to by the single (now we download) of the song we shared with a particular person. Do they even still have the smoochy bit at the end of a club night?
I had a meeting with the very bubbly outgoing deputy mayor Jeff Scowen who shocked the community when he suddenly decided to leave the high life of Lyme for a more sedate one in Wales.
It’s always interesting to chat with Jeff; I was asking him about his experiences in the Guildhall and whilst I only needed a quick snapshot, I ended up with six pages of notes so plenty to choose from.
I enjoyed another trip to London, this time sans enfant to meet up with the lovely Viv Keene who is performing in ‘The Mousetrap’. We planned to go to the Ivy Club afterwards so I took along one of my ‘going-out’ tops that I save for the rare occasion I go anywhere other than the Pilot for Fizz Friday.
A quick change in Viv’s dressing room and I was ready. Looking at the other women who arrived in the Ivy, I think I’ve been out of the London loop a bit too long although I’m certain I wouldn’t have been warm enough wearing a dress like that.
Talking of glamour, you can’t get much more glamourous than the life of a theatre manager, a role that includes meeting and greeting pop icons, internationally known comedians and TV stars and cleaning up sick five minutes before curtains up.
Ably assisted by Pete our brilliant tech who shone his torch so I could see what I was doing, I soon had the area clean and sanitised. Had to throw away a virtually new pair of Marigolds mind, perhaps the theatre fairies will find me another pair.
But I do enjoy the more hands-on stuff just as much as the romance; we have a long redundant blue office chair here, you know the sort of thing, the hydraulics packed up so it no longer goes up and down and the back support has dropped out. So it’s been rolling around the theatre looking for a home.
So when one of our terrific theatre members arrived to watch Hansard I couldn’t help but notice his foot was bandaged and when he mentioned he needs to keep his leg raised as much as possible the old blue chair was the perfect solution.
Our annual fire alarm test took place, sadly no firemen this time. It’s always very straight forward with some loud sirens and signing off but when he left saying a cheery “have a nice Christmas” I shrank back with a “Nooooo! Don’t say that, you’re far too early”.
But how wrong I was because here we are, less than two weeks to go. I was hoping to play a few Christmas songs as I decorated the theatre tree to remind me of my Christmas clubbing days, but I couldn’t find my CD.
There’s nothing under the tree yet, maybe Santa’s helpers will leave me a new pair of Marigolds, far more use than Victoria’s saucy underwear.