Two Queens and a Commoner

I’m a big kid at heart and there’s nothing I like better than dressing up and pretending to be someone else.

Recently I have had a plethora of opportunities to indulge my dramatic passions. I’m in the middle of rehearsing for not one but two plays – fortunately one is a murder mystery and as we have to religiously stick to the text, to ensure we deliver each clue to perfection, we are allowed to read from the script. I’m not sure I could learn two parts at once, I’m finding it enough of a struggle learning one set of lines!

But this afternoon I got the chance to play THREE different characters, not just any made up characters either but 3 angry ghosts based on real people.

My friend Mai has written and published a book of thirty poems, each one from the perspective of a famous ghost expressing their anger, often at the unfair way they have been treated in the history books. As she writes at the beginning…

Anger in its extremity produces vast amounts of energy.

Death cannot destroy energy; it merely takes on a new form.

The form of a restless spirit, venting their long-held grievances!

Mai has written poems for ghosts as varied as Neanderthal woman to Abraham Lincoln, Helen of Troy to Rasputin. 

If your historical knowledge is lacking there are short biographies of each character at the back of the book. Very informative, especially for the lesser-known figures such as Abu Bakr II, ruler of the Mali Empire in the 14th Century or Maria Quiteria “the Brazilian Joan of Arc”.

Each poem was written to be read aloud, more than that, to be "performed" thereby bringing each ghost temporarily back to life. To that end a few of us have had our arms twisted, in the nicest possible way of course, to dress up and be dead angry in local libraries and WI meetings.

It’s great fun, sourcing costumes from charity shops, dressing up and making new friends along the way.

This afternoon we filmed some lines from the poems with the aid of a white board to act as an autocue. This will be edited for promotional material. I can’t wait to see how it all turns out, we had so much fun.

You may be wondering which ghosts I became, well as the title of this blog suggests I transformed myself into two queens and a commoner. 

Cleopatra with a black beaded wig and lots of eyeliner, Margaret Catchpole, a local Suffolk lass who was sent to Australia for stealing her master's horse and Queen Victoria, in a costume I pulled together in five minutes using the bits and pieces gathered on the table.

Mai as the wild and furious Boudicca

Caesar - beware the Ides of March

not looking particularly angry!

Margaret Catchpole - longing to go home to England

Preparing to be Queen Victoria - no photos of Cleopatra today

Once the video is edited, I’m sure it will be shared as far and wide on social media as we can reach between us.

If you are interested in buying a copy of the book it is available in each of the wonderful independent bookshops of Ipswich, Woodbridge and Felixstowe, or if you are outside Suffolk try Hive.co.uk you can get the book delivered to an independent bookshop near you or delivered directly to your door.

If you enjoy both history and poetry this book combines the two to perfection and at only £7.99 it is a bargain. 

Buy it now or risk incurring the wrath of thirty historic ghosts who are really not amused!

We are NOT amused.

Middle Aged, Middle Class and Mildly Cross!

Well I guess 52 is somewhere in the middle ages of life. I own a house, a car, have a degree level education and actually don’t need to work so I must be middle class.

But am I mildly cross, furious, a bit peeved or just numb? Mildly cross was the best alliteration.

It started when I went shopping, there are more people about these days and some of them don’t appear to know the rules we have been abiding over the past few weeks.

Some people have no idea where to stand when queuing at the market or at the co-op?

“You can just go in now.” Said the woman who came up behind me.

“I just looked a bit too busy.” I replied, waiting for the next person to leave before I entered.

After all there is still a limit on numbers allowed. And a notice saying one in – one out.

I almost regretted going in at all when I counted about six people down the first aisle – none wearing masks or apparently aware of the existence of the 2 metre rule.

“DON’T YOU KNOW THERE’S A PANDEMIC!” I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs but obviously didn’t – how to spread a LOAD of germs in one go, although I was wearing a mask and I have no discernible symptoms.

Am I just a worry wart? Do I just like being cross and grumpy? Or is there more than meets the eye?

There is of course always more that one side to any story.

I tried smiling at those I met even behind my mask.

“You can tell you are smiling by your eyes.” Said the cashier, when I promised that today I wouldn’t make her cry. “You always come in when I’m feeling emotional.”

I really feel for her and anyone put in a position of having to work and deal with the public, the great unwashed as Andrew might have called them or the maskless.

But let’s not debate the pros and cons of wearing PPE in public places, yes, I have strong opinions and I will voice them but I need to calm my frazzled nerves and writing has always been a great way to sift my thoughts and bring about some balance.

So what I am really angry about? Or maybe who am I angry at?

The BIG answer I suppose is GOD.

He always seems to spoil my plans. So much for working with me and promising blessings.

Getting a cancer diagnosis right before moving was quite frankly shitty timing. Now if there had been a silver lining of meeting a gorgeous single consultant on my cancer journey, I might be a bit happier about it.

But treatment ate away at 2019, stole some of my hard-earned self confidence and left me with proper scars and most likely permanent nerve damage.

Thanks God – another lesson I didn’t want to learn, although what lesson was I suppose to be learning? Life is unfair?

I think I learnt that that one several thousand words ago with my first blog.

And now just as things are getting better on a personal scale and I’m reasonable fit and healthy, ready to conquer the world there’s a global pandemic!

And that’s the problem with being angry at God – whatever my grievances are there are millions, billions of people so much worse off than Mrs Middle Aged, Middle Class and Mildly Cross with her first world problems!

Even adding in the fact that my dad is terminally ill with cancer doesn’t tip the scales when compared to a refugee who has lost EVERYTHING.

Not that God particularly wants us to make those kinds of comparisons. They are not really helpful. If God is loving he cares for ALL in ALL situations.

If being angry with God ultimately gets you nowhere (although I realise lots of psalms cover this ground and anger at God is legitimate, he has the broadest of shoulders) how about I focus my disappointment back on me?

I’ve had over three months of major procrastinating, I’ve read a few books, phoned a few people pushed the coffee table out of the way and jumped up and down for a few Zumba classes but is that enough?

I could have written a novel, finally turned my first blog into a memoir, produced something truly AMAZING!

Other people have, but so often other people’s increased activity just makes me act even more sluggish in a weird sort of defiance.

I don’t think I’m actually alone and this blog is a shoutout to all those who are wondering what this time is all about? This is for those who haven’t sewn hospital scrubs out of old duvets, haven’t delivered cream teas to the elderly, haven’t been working relentlessly on the front line, haven’t rearranged their bookshelf to create the most pleasing display as a back drop for their myriad zoom meetings.

We need to remember to be kind and being kind starts with us.

Remember at the beginning the advice was simply “stay at home”, this was how we were going to “do our bit” – so maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves.

If we are still breathing, if we are still getting up and dressed most mornings maybe for now that is still enough.

In many ways we are experiencing a kind of grief, mourning the loss of life as we knew it.

I tried at the start of all this to at least do one thing productive each day. Not the greatest challenge and looking back through my diary I have had things to write each day, spurts of activity punctuate the malaise.

Thankfully things are forever changing; I have tentative plans just over the horizon and things won’t always be like this even if just now they seem just beyond our reach…

For now at least my initial anger has dissipated, the numbness hasn’t quite worn off but posting this blog is my way of being productive today and maybe my words here

let's hope my anger gives me courage to create something better!

will help someone and this will have been a very good day indeed!