IT’S like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Maybe because I am having an out of body experience? One minute I was writhing in bed sheets like I always do at this point in the play, the next I am ascending out of the bed and into the rafters as cast, crew and several members of the audience rush to my now-vacant body’s assistance.
From my view in the rafters, I can see panic spreading across the theatre, all because of little old me. I suppose, I should be frightened, or dismayed, or angry, but no I am quite calm, rather bemused, even.
I didn’t think this was the way I’d go, but hey ho, died what he loved doing and all that. What happened though? My rummy-tum-tum had felt a bit off for the last few days, but then it always does during a performance run. Runs being the operative word, to give a little too much information, but we’re all friends here. Nothing a bit of brandy won’t help.
I suppose, my heart had been racing quite a bit, and my nightgown costume was stuck to my skin with sweat, but I was in the moment wasn’t I, completely overtaken by the spirit of Mr Scrooge.
There was the shortness of breath now that I think of it, I was panting even during the gentle scene with Ebenezer’s lost love Belle, and my eyes were so dry my eyelids were scraping against them every time I blinked. On reflection, I wasn’t well at all. Curious. Lucky I’m dead, or I would have been given the worst review of my career in that state.
I find I can float, and so I swoop inelegantly down to beside my corpse which is being, quite frankly, man handled. Won’t someone pull my gown down? My boxers are on show to all and sundry, and they have seen better days. Blame my divorce for that...
For more, check out this week’s Tuam Herald or log onto our digital edition HERE