“Heel” is the command of the day. “Heel, Skye. Well done,” says TA and hands him a rice cake crumb as we walk past Guy’s Hospital. I’m holding the lead firmly, using it to ensure that the pupster doesn’t stray in front of traffic or under the feet of passing pedestrians. “Heel…good boy!” [rice cake] as we approach Borough Market. “Heel…good boy!” [rice cake] as we walk through Borough Market. “Heel…good boy!” [rice cake] as we pass the Globe theatre.
Me: Isn’t that enough rice cake now?
TA: No. Repetition and reward are really important for training. Carrot and stick!
Me: What’s the stick?
Me: Well, if the rice cake is the carrot, what’s the stick?
TA: You are the stick.
TA: Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Me: That. Is. Not. Very. Nice!
TA’s sister, J, is back in town after several months spent touring the Home Counties. I came home last night — all excited to see the hall, the pupster and give TA the new version of Fatestorm hot off the press — and she had unexpectedly popped in. The tour has done her good — the sparkle was back — and being out of reach of the ex couldn’t have done her any harm either. She was fully of witty theatre anecdotes (Craig McLachlan made his pecs dance in the wings while waiting to go on stage) and had been lucky enough to play the lead for a number of performances and was seen to do it well by the various producers. The show seems to have been a hit as was her previous tour. It was lovely to see her on form. Perhaps this is the tipping point. Meet my sister in law, a star. All of which made me happy, but she had sad news too. Badger Palais, as was, has degenerated into farce, with people moving in, people leaving, unfaithful air stewards and burglary. Then there was news of boy wonder (the showbiz grapevine being more effective than most) – sickeningly, he still seems to be enjoying success. Do any of you care about music theatre? If so please write in to Cameron Macintosh and other bigwigs and suggest that the girl from the chorus should be the star and that odious git should be sent back to Australia on a prison ship. Or, even better perhaps, go in your droves to any theatre where the plucky chorus girl is and cheer her to the rafters and picket outside any theatre where gitface is appearing.