There is a vague chance that my family history and its papers and photos may be 'accessed' into the archive of the NZ National Library. So I have been sorting out the 25 volumes of international photo albums and diaries ... and my ancient letters and scrapbooks ... and finding all sorts of forgotten things.
Some, should, perhaps, not really be preserved for posterity.
But why not ...
Season two, we had (alas!) a different purser, a very, very much more accomplished company of performers, and, since our shows had become a Feature of the Shaw Saville line cruises, much better accomodation. A beautiful young lead soprano from the Guildhall, dancers from the Royal Ballet School et al, and performers from J C Williamson shows, me from NZ Opera and a brilliant baritone, Glanville Evans, from Welsh Wales, with whom I shared a cabin (with a porthole!), and of whom I was truly very fond. Hearing him sing 'The Olive Tree' was a West-End-worthy treat. He was the best cabin-mate I could have wished for. He later became an agent in his native Wales, and I, by that time a caster, tried to give his clients every chance.
Oh. And I was introduced to the joys of heterosexuality. Well, Daddy wasn't around, this time, to say 'not till you're married!' Enter my life, Alison Temple Savage. Oh Lord. The moustache! My attempts to look older. I was 27-8, playing age 19. Ali was 20.
Anyway, we all became a glorious group of comrades ... and lived on and off ship-life to the full ... but sometimes, when I wasn't bullying beefy Aussie footballers into fitness and suppleness with a mixture of Dad's gymnastic exercises and ballet training, or rehearsing (every afternoon), or performing (twice nightly) ... I gave in to my old habit of writing. Occasional doggerel.
Every new cruise began with The Captain's Cocktail Party. Or several. I suppose the invitees were the payingest customers. But we, the 'Entertainers', were the decoration. How surprised some trippers were to find that they were talking to an MA (Hons) classics graduate! Anyway, one evening, after a particularly naff Cocktail do, Ali and I went downstairs and I penned this doggerel for our amusement ...
Oh damn Blogger ...
We all had a good giggle and the other girls said 'oh! do one for me', so I did. And somehow they've (or some of them) survived ...
This was for the lovely Sarah Lowe of talents worthy of ... but, hey, why were we all working on a cruise liner ...?
Why won't this bloody thing revolve? (Apparently if you swipe them to desktop they can be put right way up).
OK. I, as I have said, took the men's fitness class (Ali took the rather less strenuous women's equivalent). 9 am upper deck. Make the overweight, non-agile footy players SWEAT for six weeks! (They had their revenge, I was chucked in the ship's pool). And downstairs, our lead dancer, Barry Collins, and the delicious Joan Golden, took the 'Brush up your dancing' class ... the poor, poor dears! But it was in the contract!
Oh, Lord, what else will I find.
Photos. Not many. I didn't have a camera.
This one, of course ... Hawaiian Night. Something for everyone ....
Me and my muses: Sarah, Joan and Linda |
QE2. Kurt, Rosemary (sop) and her husband, by now, Barry Collins. |
The 'reduced' company. |
3 comments:
Wonderful read.
Wistful. I enjoyed reading that.
Bravo. Memories like those should be remembered .I enjoyed reading them and quietly smiling at the enjoyment of those times, that we all sometimes hide.
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