Theatre and Dance

Part one - 3rd August 2007: Brideshead Revisited – a Bear Reborn

My name is Aloysius, and I’m a bear. That’s right, Aloysius from “Brideshead Revisited”, though that’s not my real name. My owner christened me George, I had presumed because of my similarity in looks and bearing to George Clooney; however, I discovered that I was in fact named after my owner’s father, who had been more George Formby than George Clooney.

I won’t dwell on that though – George is a good solid English name. Aloysius is - well, a bit fey, I think. I was assured that this would just be a stage name and that I would still be George.

Brideshead Revisited, copyright ITV plc

To put you in the picture, I was rescued from a shed at the local tip, where unwanted items were dumped for recycling, having been wedged between a crooked table lamp and an entire set of “Reader’s Digest Condensed Classic Novels”, which would have been pretty handy for me in the evenings if I’d ever learned to read.

At my new home, I was propped up in the living room next to a toy owl, who was embellished with pheasant feathers – very pleasant to the eye, though a little unusual. Her name was Olive, and she informed me that she had had a starring part in a play, in which her presence had promoted howls of laughter and much applause from the audience.

I was intrigued by the thought of such a life, and was barely able to contain my excitement when my owner declared that I was to become “Aloysius”, star of “Brideshead Revisited”, which was to be produced by St John’s Players (from 24th-27th October at The Townley Memorial Hall, Fulbourn Institute, Fulbourn).

I meet Sebastian for the first time

I was carted along to the first rehearsals in a plastic carrier bag, which contained also a pint of milk and a script of the play. A little undignified, I thought – I relished the one time I was treated with due respect and strapped into the back seat of a very nice gentleman’s car, from where I could gaze upon my soon-to-be adoring public. However, the presence of the script in the bag compensated somewhat for the uncomfortable travelling conditions. A script! When was I to get my reading lessons so that I could start to deliver the witty lines written by Evelyn Waugh? I couldn’t wait. 

Whenever we went to the Townley Hall, a nice young man called “Sebastian”, also known by one or two of the less generous actors as “Golden Boy”, adopted me for the evening. He sat me on his lap, tweaked my nose in an affectionate manner, and cuddled me to him – pure bliss. I was less comfortable with the flowing voile scarf that was tied around my neck – a little effeminate, I thought – but went along with it for the sake of things to come.

Mulcaster is just plain mean!

During one scene, however, a rather unpleasant character, known as Mulcaster, grabbed me and threw me through the make-believe window, where I landed in a heap on the floor, legs sticking straight up in the air. Oh, the indignity. My adopted daddy, Sebastian, rescued me and got into a scrap with Mulcaster. Good on you, “Golden Boy”!

At the end of act one, a very tender moment ensued where Sebastian hugged Charles, the protagonist of the story. Unfortunately, whilst they were hugging, Sebastian let me fall to the floor in yet another undignified heap, but I was promised that at this point a spotlight would be focused on me, and me alone. Heaven or what? 

I went home and discussed these events with Olive (if an owl and a bear got together, would they produce a bowl? Something to think about for the future…). “Olive”, I said, “I can’t wait for Act Two, and for my reading lessons to begin so that I can start learning my part!”

Can you bear to wait for the next installment?