Well, Dear Diary. A terribly eventful day, and not all of it to my liking, to be quite honest with you.
Woke up my usual perky self (thank goodness that food poisoning was only a 24 hour thing) and Juanita was humming a jaunty tune in the bathroom. She really is a complete poppet.
After my ablutions, a very light breakfast of porridge, bacon, bagels and fried bread - well, I didn't want to weigh myself down - Bob picked me up, and I was only half an hour late to rehearsals. Sometimes my punctuality is an amazement even to me.
Evie, the DVT, was at the desk, so I surreptitiously sashayed over to her to find out what the gang were up to.
"Well, Flic," she said (oh, cute... I have a company nickname... Although I think Felicia is more appropriate - I'll mention that tomorrow), "this morning we're doing Le Freak, and this afternoon you're in for your first costume fitting with Wardrobe."
"Delightful!"
Then Karl trotted up to me, and asked if I'd like to look at the partner work at the end of the number.
"Certainly, darling!"
Goodness me, I'm very affable today!
I was introduced to my dancing partner, Cameron Jones (I love parents with a sense of humour, and the reference to Carmen Jones certainly wasn't wasted on me, although he looked a little perplexed when I mentioned it).
"Now," chirped Karl, "Flic (hmm... That nickname again) and Cam will enter for the final chorus and then move to each other..."
"Sorry?" I interrupted. "The FINAL chorus?"
"Yes, Flic (aargh!), and then I want..."
"Karl, dear, could we have a quick word?"
"What's the matter, Flic?"
"FELICIA!... Sorry... Felicia, or Flic... Or whatever... But preferably Felicia. I'm a little confused... You said we enter for the FINAL chorus, and I'm just a little concerned about who will be entertaining the troupes until that point?"
"Well, Flic... Sorry... Felicia..."
"Yes, Kar... Sorry... Karl?"
"The thing is... Well, it's like this... We were thinking... Um..."
"That we'd save," piped up Matt Devitt the director, "the best 'til last. This number is really a montage of dance talent, and so we go through the whole range of lesser experienced dancers, and end with you, Felicia, showing us all how it's supposed to be done."
I thought this through.
"Matthew, dear. So very sweet of you. Thank you. But only if you're sure? I don't want to show up the other dancers."
"You won't!" piped in Karl.
"Well, Felicia, darling... You ARE the lead," added Matt.
"Stop it, Matthew... I'm blushing! Oh, alright then, if the rest of the number is already set; it seems there's no dissuading you!"
And so, after a surprisingly sparse amount of steps (I think they must be keeping it simple for the non-dancers like Cameron), we were all tangoed out, and lunch was upon us.
After lunch, a jaunty little girl arrived and I was asked to follow her to Wardrobe. So... The moment had finally arrived! The frocks!
I was ushered in by Abby (the jaunty one, presumably work experience?) and met three other ladies, who's names escape me at the moment, but I'll find out.
They were all terribly in awe of me, I could see, and a little flustered.
"Now, Felicia," said the one with a rather curious lip ring (how DOES she do her lip stick?), "if you could just pop yourself into this..." And I was presented with, well, what I can only describe as a sequin marquee!
No, Felicia... New people - first impressions.
So on went the first frock. And they all gathered behind me muttering.
"Is anything the matter?" I asked.
"It seems to be a shade too small", whispered the tiny one with blond hair and a worried frown.
"Oh dear," I retorted. "Did you use the measurements I sent?"
"Yes, we did. And we allowed a few inches for seam allowance."
"Well..." I offered, "Perhaps your tape measure needs a readjustment? I've been using the same measurements for years, ever since the cruises, and Louis Vuitton doesn't have this problem dressing me!"
"Let's try the next costume, shall we?" suggested the dark-haired, cherubic one.
Over the next two hours, I was prodded, squeezed, poked, warped and generally contorted into all sorts of positions while this gaggle of seamstresses (I wonder what the correct collective noun is) tried in vain to fit costumes onto me.
"Okay..." the pierced one said finally, "I think that will do for today! We have lots to be getting on with."
"You most certainly do, it seems."
"We'll see you again in a few days."
And as I left, I heard the all too familiar mutterings of my adoring fans...
"None of them are right for her, she'll never get into them with her..."
"She's just so big..."
Bless them - they've obviously been researching my star studded past career!
So, ravaged by the stress of the day, I am now firmly ensconced at home with Sukie and a large G and T.
I do hope tomorrow goes a little better; a lesser woman might develop a complex!
Woke up my usual perky self (thank goodness that food poisoning was only a 24 hour thing) and Juanita was humming a jaunty tune in the bathroom. She really is a complete poppet.
After my ablutions, a very light breakfast of porridge, bacon, bagels and fried bread - well, I didn't want to weigh myself down - Bob picked me up, and I was only half an hour late to rehearsals. Sometimes my punctuality is an amazement even to me.
Evie, the DVT, was at the desk, so I surreptitiously sashayed over to her to find out what the gang were up to.
"Well, Flic," she said (oh, cute... I have a company nickname... Although I think Felicia is more appropriate - I'll mention that tomorrow), "this morning we're doing Le Freak, and this afternoon you're in for your first costume fitting with Wardrobe."
"Delightful!"
Then Karl trotted up to me, and asked if I'd like to look at the partner work at the end of the number.
"Certainly, darling!"
Goodness me, I'm very affable today!
I was introduced to my dancing partner, Cameron Jones (I love parents with a sense of humour, and the reference to Carmen Jones certainly wasn't wasted on me, although he looked a little perplexed when I mentioned it).
"Now," chirped Karl, "Flic (hmm... That nickname again) and Cam will enter for the final chorus and then move to each other..."
"Sorry?" I interrupted. "The FINAL chorus?"
"Yes, Flic (aargh!), and then I want..."
"Karl, dear, could we have a quick word?"
"What's the matter, Flic?"
"FELICIA!... Sorry... Felicia, or Flic... Or whatever... But preferably Felicia. I'm a little confused... You said we enter for the FINAL chorus, and I'm just a little concerned about who will be entertaining the troupes until that point?"
"Well, Flic... Sorry... Felicia..."
"Yes, Kar... Sorry... Karl?"
"The thing is... Well, it's like this... We were thinking... Um..."
"That we'd save," piped up Matt Devitt the director, "the best 'til last. This number is really a montage of dance talent, and so we go through the whole range of lesser experienced dancers, and end with you, Felicia, showing us all how it's supposed to be done."
I thought this through.
"Matthew, dear. So very sweet of you. Thank you. But only if you're sure? I don't want to show up the other dancers."
"You won't!" piped in Karl.
"Well, Felicia, darling... You ARE the lead," added Matt.
"Stop it, Matthew... I'm blushing! Oh, alright then, if the rest of the number is already set; it seems there's no dissuading you!"
And so, after a surprisingly sparse amount of steps (I think they must be keeping it simple for the non-dancers like Cameron), we were all tangoed out, and lunch was upon us.
After lunch, a jaunty little girl arrived and I was asked to follow her to Wardrobe. So... The moment had finally arrived! The frocks!
I was ushered in by Abby (the jaunty one, presumably work experience?) and met three other ladies, who's names escape me at the moment, but I'll find out.
They were all terribly in awe of me, I could see, and a little flustered.
"Now, Felicia," said the one with a rather curious lip ring (how DOES she do her lip stick?), "if you could just pop yourself into this..." And I was presented with, well, what I can only describe as a sequin marquee!
No, Felicia... New people - first impressions.
So on went the first frock. And they all gathered behind me muttering.
"Is anything the matter?" I asked.
"It seems to be a shade too small", whispered the tiny one with blond hair and a worried frown.
"Oh dear," I retorted. "Did you use the measurements I sent?"
"Yes, we did. And we allowed a few inches for seam allowance."
"Well..." I offered, "Perhaps your tape measure needs a readjustment? I've been using the same measurements for years, ever since the cruises, and Louis Vuitton doesn't have this problem dressing me!"
"Let's try the next costume, shall we?" suggested the dark-haired, cherubic one.
Over the next two hours, I was prodded, squeezed, poked, warped and generally contorted into all sorts of positions while this gaggle of seamstresses (I wonder what the correct collective noun is) tried in vain to fit costumes onto me.
"Okay..." the pierced one said finally, "I think that will do for today! We have lots to be getting on with."
"You most certainly do, it seems."
"We'll see you again in a few days."
And as I left, I heard the all too familiar mutterings of my adoring fans...
"None of them are right for her, she'll never get into them with her..."
"She's just so big..."
Bless them - they've obviously been researching my star studded past career!
So, ravaged by the stress of the day, I am now firmly ensconced at home with Sukie and a large G and T.
I do hope tomorrow goes a little better; a lesser woman might develop a complex!