The Worst Witch
"When shall we two meet again," just didn't have the right ring to it, so I was delighted when the third witch finally turned up to join us as I volunteered at the Naper Settlement's All Hallow's Eve Village of Fear event last night.
"Sorry, just in from Chicago," she said, pulling out her script.
As a former Shakespearean actress ( third watchman in Much Ado About Nothing, aged 11), I was appalled at this lack of professionalism.
Noticing we didn't have scripts, she whispered: "Gee, was I meant to learn this? Sorry."
As we danced around the cauldron she bent down to the fire below to catch enough light to read.
Let me set the scene. We were in the darkened "underworld" in the museum, an area just below the entrance. Our area was draped with black gauze and skulls, which to be honest looked more Hamlet than MacBeth.
There were loud sound effects of chains rattling and general all purpose moaning, and grim reapers led groups of screaming children and parents around the displays. To be honest, they didn't seem too frightened by us, but I did hear screams as they passed when a werewolf jumped out at them at 10 second intervals.
You can see from the earlier photo how I was dressed. My "sister" Nancy went for a less flashy approach, all dressed in black with long dark hair, green face and black pointy hat. You know the kind of thing.
Our new recruit had short blond hair, a black sweater and ra ra skirt. Guess you can't get the staff when you rely on volunteers.
After a couple of hours she announced she had to leave as she was driving up to Ohio.
"I suppose we could always say we turned you into a toad," I hissed as she left.
When three become two, you certainly get round to your part again fast. Our script was two scenes from MacBeth cobbled together. We danced round the cauldron (dry ice not permitted in case it damaged the exhibits. Shame.) throwing imaginery ingredients into the pot.
All I can I say it was lucky I wasn't following a real recipe. Some times I forgot things, other times got them in the wrong order. Fortunately I don't cook like this for real.
After four long hours all I wanted to do was put my feet up with a nice mug of hemlock.
"Sorry, just in from Chicago," she said, pulling out her script.
As a former Shakespearean actress ( third watchman in Much Ado About Nothing, aged 11), I was appalled at this lack of professionalism.
Noticing we didn't have scripts, she whispered: "Gee, was I meant to learn this? Sorry."
As we danced around the cauldron she bent down to the fire below to catch enough light to read.
Let me set the scene. We were in the darkened "underworld" in the museum, an area just below the entrance. Our area was draped with black gauze and skulls, which to be honest looked more Hamlet than MacBeth.
There were loud sound effects of chains rattling and general all purpose moaning, and grim reapers led groups of screaming children and parents around the displays. To be honest, they didn't seem too frightened by us, but I did hear screams as they passed when a werewolf jumped out at them at 10 second intervals.
You can see from the earlier photo how I was dressed. My "sister" Nancy went for a less flashy approach, all dressed in black with long dark hair, green face and black pointy hat. You know the kind of thing.
Our new recruit had short blond hair, a black sweater and ra ra skirt. Guess you can't get the staff when you rely on volunteers.
After a couple of hours she announced she had to leave as she was driving up to Ohio.
"I suppose we could always say we turned you into a toad," I hissed as she left.
When three become two, you certainly get round to your part again fast. Our script was two scenes from MacBeth cobbled together. We danced round the cauldron (dry ice not permitted in case it damaged the exhibits. Shame.) throwing imaginery ingredients into the pot.
All I can I say it was lucky I wasn't following a real recipe. Some times I forgot things, other times got them in the wrong order. Fortunately I don't cook like this for real.
After four long hours all I wanted to do was put my feet up with a nice mug of hemlock.
posted by Hilary at
8:27 AM
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