It feels a bit strange to be suddenly out of the theatre bubble I’ve been living in for what seems like forever and I feel compelled to write for my own record about my personal journey through our ‘world amateur premiere’ of Calendar Girls: The Musical.
As the series of lockdowns pushed the show dates back further and further, I revelled in the quieter, less stressful life. I began to dread, with gut-sinking fear, the resumption of normal life and with it, rehearsals for the show. I’d committed to do it though, and with the mother-outlaw being the real Miss January, the Calendar Girls feels a bit like ‘the family business’, so I felt honour bound to go through with it. At that point mentally, it really did feel like taking on Mount Kilimanjaro.
Rehearsals re-started in small groups in late Spring this year with a few changes in personnel. I was just starting to feel a little more positive when I had my riding accident and slipped a disc in my back. Suddenly, not only were rehearsals emotionally exhausting again but also physically very difficult. But still, the show must go on.
Getting naked was seriously the easy bit. Unlike ‘normal’ musicals where you get a song and then a scene and a song and then a scene, Calendar Girls: The Musical intersperses lyrics and dialogue at breakneck speed. If you miss a line or delay by a beat, that’s it – trying to get back into it is like trying to jump aboard a moving train.
Just days before we opened, we met the band for the first time and had our first ‘band call rehearsal’, at which we were joined by the author Tim Firth and a film crew from Look North, and several of the ‘real’ Calendar Girls, just to add a little more pressure! Then we all had to learn very quickly to work with new tech, notably radio microphones which we had to tape to our skin because we had several quick costume changes – and anyway we couldn’t hook them on clothes for our nude scene, could we?! The difficulty came in learning to discipline ourselves not to speak in the wings; some highly amusing backstage expletives rang out through the auditorium in dress rehearsals before we were finally shocked into attempting silence.
Somehow, against all the odds, we pulled off the show. Not only that, playing to 1680 people, we earned a standing ovation every single night of our punishing seven day run (that’s on top of doing the day job, of course). It wasn’t just that it was all our friends and family out there; visiting am dram societies came from as far away Glasgow to see how we’d tackle the show. Word spread and ticket sales rocketed as the week progressed. A substantial amount has been raised for Blood Cancer UK. All of which was a relief as I’d also been doing the PR for the show, of course!
Interestingly, we had countless people say that they had seen the show professionally in the West End, Leeds or Salford and enjoyed our show more. How come? Reflecting on this afterwards it’s clear that it’s because this is OUR story. One More Year in Yorkshire is OUR community; our dale, our river, our village halls, our institutes, our tractors, our school bus, our chip shop. Above all, this show is based on real people who we know and love, who did an amazing thing. We genuinely wanted to celebrate that; we played it from the heart and that made it very, very special.
Thank you to everyone who helped make it happen and those who came to support us. Oh, and thanks for these pics, all of which I pinched as I didn’t manage to take any myself!