Winter in Zimbabwe and Ingrams Camphor Cream

I do still miss, terribly, a place in time that was my Zimbabwe.

I had a flash memory the other day of cold winter mornings.

Walking to school with knitted gloves catching on (what we called) whitlow’s on my fingers.

Of winter dry cracked legs burning with the first slaps of  oh so cold Ingram’s camphor cream.  I can smell the camphor. How I loathed that stuff when I was a child. I wanted to smell like talc not insect spray.

Walking to school in winter. Nose dripping with cold. The only good bit was big breaths out into the cold, steaming  up the air. How cool was that!

I missed it all: the sting, the cold, the goosebumps, the smell. 

 

 

 

Somedays I just wish I was a house wife........with gadgets and servants and a driver.

You know what I mean right?  Some days just start like this:

 



This has to be (at the moment) my favourite  skit. If you have ever worked in project management or been a part of a planing meeting or  involved in a client briefing of any sort you will get this.

 

All of the above results in me thinking that really what I should do is just say that.....

A visual Teaser for 10,000 cigarettes

The most contemporary of the four plays included in Dubai Drama Group's evening of short Plays is ten thousand cigarettes which was written by Alex Broun  who  theatre goers in Dubai will know through of his involvement with Short and Sweet Dubai.

 

Director Vikram Ahuja sent me this bit of info on the play:

Our choices are seldom ours and shaped by the choices of those around us. And rationalising these choices, habits and decisions is often the easiest thing to do. 10, 000 cigarettes explores one woman's relationship with her smoking habit and her fascination for the single, most important invention in the world - the cigarette

Charlotte Russell, Sophia Lorenti, Cristina Mejia and Aashie Menon our stylish smokers.

sassy Sophia

Amazing Aashie

Charismatic Cristina

loving their habit...... for now

This is a beautifully styled short play that takes you from the silly to the serious seamlessly.

Come down to thejamjar every evening this week for a theatrical treat.

A visual Teaser for The Proposal

So as you all must know by now ( I have gone on a bit about it) the Dubai Drama group with the support of thejamjar are holding an evening of four once act plays : Chekhov's Cigarette

The Proposal by Anton Chekhov
Neighbours, friends, and a proposal. Chekhov's comedy of manners looks at what happens when the need for societal politeness comes up against conflicting agendas. 

Gere George as a hypochondriac suitor and the feisty object of his affection  played by Kaylie Smith 

 

Father ( Eric Dury) with a short temper on account of having a grown up unmarried Daughter.....

A rare moment in The Proposal when everyone agrees with everyone else.

 

Chekhov called The Proposal a "wretched, boring, vulgar little skit." and he  once advised a director to "roll cigarettes out of it for all I care." which just goes to show that creative sorts are the worst judges of their own work. I just adore this farce  and I was crying with laughter when I saw it in rehearsal. You will love it.

Cast

Eric Dury - Stepan Stepanovitch Chubokov (  repectable landowner )

Kaylie Smith - Natalia Stepanovna ( his Daugher)

Gere George -Ivan Vassiliytch Lomov ( the suitor and dodgy landowner)

 

Don't you just love the Russian names!

 

Director - Hananah Zaheer

 

 

 



A Visual Teaser for "A Matter Of Husbands"

I do not want to give away any plots for the shows that are included in Dubai Drama Groups evening of Short Plays " Chekhov's Cigarette" but I can give you  a little  photographic snippet of "A Matter of Husbands."

Lucy Taylor as our Ernest Young Women and Caroline Fernandes as a Famous Actress

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

What do an Ernest Young Women and a Famous Actress have in common? To find out come you will have to pop down to thejamar in the evening between the 8th and the 12th of April. 

 

 

How to choose a short play or rather how I came to be directing Anton Chekhov’s “The Evils of Tobacco”

Anton Chekhov

For some time now I have been an amateur theatre critic via this very blog. You may have noticed that I have an inordinate amount of fun doing this; however, I have had, for some time, a little niggle of guilt. I should have been born Catholic for all the guilt I carry around. What it takes the Catholic Church years to instill I was born with. But I digress, as usual.

I did know that at some point I would have to stand up and be counted, as it were. I really could not keep on as I have been, going about telling people what I thought of their productions and acting ability. I could not, in all good conscious, keep on criticising the very heart of people’s creativity without, at the very least, giving my fellow Drama Darlings the opportunity to return the favour. Which poses a dilemma because, I would prefer not to put myself out there at all - being the reclusive sort. Not shy, please note, just reclusive. Add the fact that I have not done any theatre work for quite some time and  have in the back of my mind the fear that if I don’t get back into it I will lose whatever expertise and ability I may have had. Or worse I may have lost it already. With this going on inside my head I had to have a stern talk with myself “For heaven’s sake, get a bloody grip you silly woman.” I admonished my inner wet blanket. “It is way past time that you got back into the theatre properly”

Having been roundly self-flagellated I was on the lookout for a play, a place and a producer. At about the same time as I was mulling all this over I saw that Dubai Drama Group were calling for directors for  an evening of short plays. Good (or is that bad?) timing. A short play to get my hand back into the game was exactly the ticket. Excellent! I contacted the Dubai Drama Group and was sent the link to the web page and saw listed  there a handful of plays; a combination of Chekhov  scripts and  modern plays. I already had in the back of my mind that I wanted to do Edward Albee’s “Zoo Story” and I tentatively approached DDG and asked if I could direct that rather than the plays on offer. I could! This had me very excited. My excitement was short lived.

Zoo Story is a hard play and casting has to be just right and I am not a good enough director to take a change with a two hander on unknown quality in terms of actor’s ability, especially as I have enough hubris to think that everyone that I have criticised is going to want to be able to do the same back. Oh my Ego. The audition saw several mighty fine pieces presented but I wanted actors that I already knew (from previous performances) could do the show. This is (I believe) a rather lazy trait in me. Partly as a result of this I could not cast my two men. I had  a combination of men in my head that would work but I could not get the pairing I so desperately felt I needed.

 

The auditions presented a number of very talented actresses auditioning for the other plays. Cliff Single, the Chairman of DDG, suggested that I put Zoo Story aside and see if I could find another play, possibly one that utilised some of the lovely ladies that auditioned. Good plan B I thought. I cast my net about for a short play with between 2 and 5 women. I contacted my peeps at Harare Reps Theatre. I contacted my Peeps in  Gaborone. I trawled the Internet. I contacted professional Drama Darlings in London and said “eek help”. I was put on to a play written by a friend of a friend so I logged on to Samuel French  had a part read of Henna Nights by Amy Rosenthal and loved what I read. I ordered the play foolishly thinking that I could download it……. Hummm delivery would take a while longer than I had available to me. I was pretty sure I would love the play from what I had already read but this being Dubai I could not commit to a show without knowing what the full script would contain. Oh dear, on and on and it goes my darlings. High drama before you even hit the stage.

With time running out and a need to get rehearsals started and knowing what other plays were already going to be included in the evening Cliff  suggested, ever so diplomatically, that I take up Anton Chekov’s “The Evils of Tobacco” as it was in line with two (already in the show) themes; Smoking and Anton Chekhov. Not the way I would normally choose a play but hey sometimes you have to switch it up. I am very glad that we did.

I was most lucky that Toby Masson, who I had already cast in Zoo Story, agreed to leave the idea of Zoo Story for a while and take up doing a one hander, something that was new to him. I have found over the rehearsal period with Toby that this production has become a very collaborative piece. I am a fairly dictatorial person so this was a bit of a departure for me. I think we have both rather enjoyed the process.

We have had a couple of joint rehearsals with the other productions. This has allowed us  the opportunity to see  all the plays performed that will share the stage with ours in a couple of weeks’ time. I can safely say that if you come down to thejamjar between the 8^th and the 12^th of April you will be treated to an evening of delightful and enjoyable theatre. This eclectic mix of dramatic styles will showcase two Anton Chekhov plays and two modern plays. Two plays that include smoking, one a bit tenuously and two that include romance, again one a bit tenuously.

I am trying to build up a bit of curiosity in you in a bid to get you to come down and see for yourself what I am rabbiting on about. Let’s not pretend here that I don’t want your bottoms in the chairs at thejamjar, because I obviously do. I want packed house every night. I want people banging at the doors begging to be let in.  Having said that I also know, in fact I am very sure,  true as bob and honest to god, that when (please note when not if) you come to thejamjar you will  thoroughly enjoy what we are putting on. You will leave refreshingly invigorated and wanting to see more theatre in Dubai.

 

Sleeping like the Dead.

Bryan said “By the way Roger is coming for the weekend.”

“When does he arrive?” I asked in a blasé fashion, being used to having visitors pop in out of the blue and all.

“Oh, I guess in the early morning on Friday.” was the reply I got.

Early on Friday (to me anyway) means any time between six am and say oo'er nine fifty nine am on Friday. Remember Friday is the weekend for us. Any other time is either the middle of the night or day time.

On Thursday after an arty farty overload of beauty  on The Art Bus with Philip (the beloved first born) and an unmemorable evening. Well I can’t remember what we did, if anything. By the by, do you know  at  the moment the days merge into nights into weeks because, darlings, there is just too much on. I really do need to get a life where I am independently wealthy. If for no other reason than to be able to fit all this busy-ness in without the bother of a job. Anyway, after a lovely day of art and “whatever” evening we went to bed, as you do. I think between 11.30 p.m. and midnight, although for us that seems a bit early. Some time between then and the morning Bryan and I were both up fussing about because of ruddy kamikaze Dubai mosquitoes. What is it with mosquitoes in this town? They are evil little vampires with  poison, I swear, in their gnashers. If you get bitten by a mosquito in Dubai the likelihood of acquiring a festering wound within a few days is pretty damn high. Vicious little critters. Anyway, it was not a peaceful sleep (brand plugging aside) that we had. Then as if that was not enough, miserably, at what felt like an ungodly hour (seven a.m. as it happens) I was woken up by Bryan’s phone ringing. The call was to let Bryan know  that Roger has been on our door step since 1.30a.m. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Apparently early on Friday is 1.30am. Which of course is technically correct. If I had known  that this was the time Roger was arriving I would have left the door unlocked for the poor man. So our guest arrived at our home and rang the doorbell, and rang it some more, and knocked at the door, and knocked some more (in our defence he did say that he did not knock very loudly) and none of the three people in the house heard a bloody thing. We did not hear a ring or a knock or even plaintive sobbing, if there was any. So Roger curled up outside the front door and tried to get some sleep. Poor bloody bugger.

Over a peace offering coffee (the no longer Jolly) Roger recounted his ordeal. He said it had been cold, so cold in fact that he had to pull his beanie out of his suitcase. Or did he pull out his beanie to stop the mosquitoes from eating him alive… I forget… it was early in the morning. Did I mention he was harassed by mosquitoes (no surprises there) and midges? The marble was not comfortable. He is no longer a young man and stone floors are not made for middle aged bodies. It was a sad, sorry, tale and I felt dreadful for our small , well okay, entire part in his discomfort.

Two things spring to my mind. One is about my / our sleeping patterns and the other about Roger’s tactics.

Firstly, you need to know that I get woken up every day by a neighbour who goes to the Gym opposite our house at 4am. EVERY MORNING. By the way  the neighbour  shall remain nameless for the time being as not only  is he a neighbour but we work in the same company, so one day when I need some cannon fodder I will have it. I mean all this waking me up at four a.m. must have some emotional blackmail value don't you think? But back to the point. I get woken up by his turning on of the lights in the Gym. Such is the nature of my light sleeperness. This being the case how on God's  green Earth is it possible that I do not get woken up by someone ringing the doorbell? If you are in the business of breaking and entering you know what time to call at our place.

Secondly I think that Roger is far too well brought up by half. I would have made much more noise, thrown a few stones at our bedroom window, or at least tried to break in. Mind you, having been quiet as a mouse about getting into our home, once in it we could not shut him up about the hardship he suffered at our hands. He milked it let me tell you. He milked it expertly, just enough to make us feel as low as shark shit, but not enough to stop us feeling guilty. Well Played Roger.

Whilst writing this post I started to have a sense of deja vu. So I went looking at older posts. I sadly  discovered, much to my shame, that this is not the first time this has happened to our guests....

The other visitor who was left out in the cold. 

We are bad, bad hosts. If you are coming for a visit. Word of advice. If we are not picking you up from the airport. Make bloody sure we promise to leave the door open for you. Oh and bring a pillow and sleeping bag if we don't...... Just saying. Better safe than sorry.

The story of the Helpless Cat

 

 

We have lived in Dubai for some time now and have been pet free for all of that time, for a few reasons.

1.      We do not want to leave pets behind again ever.

2.      I am allergic to cats.

3.      We lived in an apartment for almost 7 years and we don’t think that is an ideal place for a pet dog.

4.      I love birds but prefer them outdoors rather than in a cage.  And anyway they are not furry and snuggley.

None of these, however, stops me from wanting a pet. I try and find opportunities to get a pet by accident. That way it is “fate” and beyond my control.  Etc., etc., et bloody silly cetera.  This is a bit of a tug of war within the confine of the space between my ears. In this context it is hard to call it a functioning thinking brain.

A couple of weeks ago I saw a request from one of the “let’s be kind to pets groups” ( K9 Friends and Feline Friends do wonderful work in Dubai by the way) asking for someone to foster a lovely looking dog and her puppies for a few weeks. Philip was home so it’s not like the dog would be alone all day and it was just for a few weeks. And I would get a pet fix. I thought it was a brilliant idea. Win, win really. Bryan flatly refused to even discuss the matter. I tried showing him pictures of the dog and the pups. So sweet!  He would not even look at them. He was like a two year old in stubborn mode. I would try and say something and he would not even let me finish he just said “No.” and walked away. I followed, I started “But Bryan just for a couple of weeks look cute dog cute pu-“ “No.” You get the picture.

I feed birds in my Garden. I get miffed with and at the neighbourhood cats who stalk the area around my bird feeder. They sit there with greedy eyes, swishing their tails and twitching their whiskers in anticipation of a kill and chasing away the birds. I am in a no win situation here.  I chase cats but I want an accidental pet. You see the logic? Neither do I.

One day last week, when Bryan and I arrived home from work, I spotted a seriously manky looking cat in the garden. I have seen this cat before- not looking so bedraggled) and I always shoo the cat away. Well in my head I am shooing the cat away in reality I start off shooing and when that does not work I get cross with the cat for not retracting to my courteous indication of a lack of welcome and I become a fish wife metaphorically slamming two pan together and screeching (not metaphorically) at the cat to “F off out of my garden and leave MY birds alone.” So on this particular day  I did what I habitually do and started off with the gently shooing.  The cat looked up at me with big plaintive eyes  instead of with  a disdainful toss of the head and bottom presenting  tail in the air that I usually get. I felt dreadful for the poor thing. I tiptoed up closer, cooing and calling.  It looked more pathetic and sorrier close up. I told Bryan that we had to help the cat. Bryan said “No absolutely not. Leave the cat alone it will go home if it needs help.”   Well anyone knows that any self-respecting home having cat would not let itself get into this condition and nor would its owners. “Please Bryan,” said I (like I need his permission but we are a team right?) “we need to help the cat. Go inside and get some milk and I will try and coax it closer.” Bryan said “No.”  So off I went in a strop of indignation muttering about what a cold bastard he was. Glaring at him, and asking him why he was being so mean when usually he was a complete softy about the weak and ailing. He said “I am not getting involved. If we feed this bloody animal it will be the beginning of the end and we will have a cat in the house and you will be sorry because we agreed that we do not want a pet and then it will be my problem.”  We did  agree and he is right and it will be his problem if I am sneezing and scratching all day because of allergies and I will mope about and make it his problem. Well that is what I do. I live to give Bryan purpose.  But that is all beside the point. I was stung by his cruelty and felt bad for the cat. So I went indoors and poured a saucer of milk.  I took it out and called for the cat who looked suspiciously at me and the milk some of its previous disdain returning. I left the cat in peace thinking it would come and get the milk in its own time.

I went back into the kitchen where I could watch. Bryan was hovering outside - so much for not getting involved and not caring. He says “Penny your cat is not much interested in your milk.”

I heard a bird sing in a tree nearby. So did the cat and she/ he / it was off like lightening after its quarry. Gracefully leaping up into the air onto a high wall and slinking along all of a twitch on the hunt. Bloody Ratfink of a Low Life Cat. All vigor and verve and joy do vive was that minxy, moggy.  Drink my milk. Ha that would be the day.

Now I have a dilemma. I don’t want the cat in my garden especially as it is clearly a hunter. I don’t want to be cruel to it. I feel morally bound to keep an eye on it. If it does not have a home hunting is how it is feeding itself.  I don’t want to feed it as then it will stay in my garden.  I don’t want it to starve.  And let us not forget that it has turned up its nose at my milk offering. The circle of life my friends is not simple.



Even though I know this.... I still dream of having a cat.
 

PS: Whilst getting the links to Feline Friends and K9 I trawled through their web pages.  There are lots of way you can help these organisations. I still love the idea of fostering a dog or a cat but if ,like me, you have a supremely sensible spouse there are other things you can do. You can ,for example, walk dogs.

I have also found some very useful advice from Feline Friends about how to feed a stray cat. and what to do if you find a stray cat.