The Swishing Shut of the Curtain

"They've gone. It's all over".

And these words, which come very near the end of the play I have been immersed in for the past two months, are now seeming more than usually sad.

Because it IS.
All over.

The curtain has closed on the final performance, we have all dismantled the set, the costumes have been carried upstairs or taken to various homes to be laundered, and the props have been packed up, ready for return.

After striking the set, we all gather in the bar for our cast party. I'm not much of a party person these days. In fact, I am not sure I ever was the ideal party guest (arriving late, hiding booze, holding court, and behaving like a twat means you tend to get invited to parties so people have someone to laugh at, not because anyone actually likes you). But I have already determined that it would be very sad not to go to this party.

It's actually quite a sedate affair - for the period I am there, at any rate. We have all brought along some very nice nibbles, and the barman makes me cups of tea upon request. Everyone is "lit up" in a good way (exhilarated and happy), and the director and crew receive our gifts and make funny, touching speeches.

Two hours later, in the taxi coming home (which I am bloody lucky to get, considering it is 2am and coming down in torrents), I reflect on how much I must have changed. Because after thinking I would find it very hard to fit in, I have in fact had lots of fascinating conversations at the party, learning about one girl's degree course, and another's family history; about the stage manager's long association with the group, a fellow actor's long term relationship, and of course lots of laughs with my "kindred spirit" Kelly.

Wow, I think. Other people really are so very very interesting.
And these people are so nice as well !!

There are some auditions for a future production this week.
I think you can safely guarantee that I will be there.