So the Peter Pan Panto went well. Three performances, each with a bit more ‘riotous improvisation’ from the cast. I’ll long remember it.
Wendy gave me a box of maltesers to say thanks for helping her with her solos. Then the whole cast gave me some lovely vouchers for my local music shop, and a card they’d all signed. Nana, the pantomime dame, gave me a cheeky wink.
It was a great experience, playing piano for a panto - even if it’s not exactly my favourite art form, or even a thing I’d been involved in before. But then - I saw the faces of the kids on stage; eyes sparkling with the buzz of performing for the first time. As shy as I had been, I found myself wishing I’d had that opportunity at that age. Something tells me I’d have liked it.
About a hundred people asked me whether I would do it again. I’m hesitant to say that I would, but only because I’m so aware of how much time it requires, and how precious that is.
I drove home happy, the tunes still rolling in my head. It was occurring to me how rare a thing that is these days, especially from work - driving home happy, I mean. I’m pretty sure life shouldn’t really be like that. But still, in a world of grown-ups, and bills, and managers, and reports, and meetings, and crumbling insecurities... it’s nice to have a few moments of wonder, of magic, and of sparkle. Isn’t it?
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