Diss Community Partnership

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Shakespeare Sandwich
Mere Players
Diss Corn Hall

Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stairs – Mere Players doing Shakespeare!
After nearly 40 years it was high time to edge away from musicals and safe classics.
Those arms-aloft, big musical finishes might look good but are no test of acting ability.
The large audience turnout suggested that the public were not averse to the change of material.
It may only be painting-by-numbers Shakespeare but is certainly a step in the right direction.
Thus there is a sense of well-known quotes strung together and put in a modern setting to suggest current relevance.
Pete Webb’s Macbeth wears a flat cap and and plots in an East End pub, where the Weird Sisters are local women on a hen night and the thanes are like the Krays.
Carrie Ward has had a career-long wait for a part like Lady Macbeth, which she plays wonderfully, but only has the best-known speeches.
The playwright (George Eddy) just happens to be there, writing on his laptop, with Christopher Marlowe (Ryan Hill) also dropping by. Gary Stodel directs.
An abbreviated Midsummer Night’ s Dream is directed by Louise Rourke. This is a tee-shirted, school drama studio version with a lively young cast.
The project is part of the RSC Open Stages scheme, with back projection and a vocal and guitar accompaniment by Felix Simpson.
With more trust in the material the group could easily have put on full versions of either of these plays.

Basil Abbott

Panto at the OK Corral
Troupe
Hopton Village Hall

If Americans are baffled by pantomime, what would they make of one set in Tombstone?
A panto horse (Madeleine Beck) and Dame (Cliff Lodge) moseyed along with Clint Westwood (Emily Pratt) and Buffalo Bill (Adrian Black) in Coral Mitchell’s production.
Every western reference was given an airing – “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do” etc – with all the usual panto business, audience participation and excruciating jokes.
The prompter (Lynda Lodge) deserved a stiff three fingers of rye for her efforts; but this added to the general hilarity.
The group is lucky to have so many young people, both girls and boys, willing to take part.
George Tuvey and Max Adnett, as Butch Casserole and the Sun-tanned Kid, were among the many who acquitted themselves well.
Nigel Sewell brought a kind of deranged energy to the part of the black-clad Sheriff. He would definitely not be welcome in a china shop.
The costumiers (Marilyn Faiers, Coral Mitchell, Gabrielle Smith and cast) did a grand job. The outfits for the saloon girls (Mavis Hunt and Deborah Sarson) looked especially good.
Deborah certainly has a new career waiting if she ever gives up being Diss Town Clerk.
At the piano was David Gee, who has been Mr. Music in more local shows than anyone can remember.

Basil Abbott

My first experience of a Dickens reading was a 1963 episode of Bonanza, with Lost in Space actor Jonathan Harris as the great man visiting the Ponderosa. In reality he never got as far west as Nevada; but it was a well-written piece. I remember Hoss saying, “Read us another one, Mr. Dickens.” My first experience of Dickens was actually on the back of The Topper comic, where classic novels like Oliver Twist were re-told in words and pictures. From then onwards I knew what Dickensian meant; but struggled to explain the term to teenagers when I was a teacher. So television and comics can play their part.
The National Sparkler’s 200th birthday was the occasion for a reading at The Studio in Beccles. Thousands used to pack halls all over Britain and the east of America to hear him. At Beccles the audience was small enough for people to introduce themselves and forge relationships. Cornish-born actor David Shaw appeared walking with a stick, an elderly, decrepit figure, as Dickens was from his mid-forties. The moment he was in the limelight the years fell away and he became a young, vibrant man again. From the Ackroyd and Tomalin biographies, that was just how he was.
We saw the trial scene from The Pickwick Papers and the deaths of Nancy and Bill Sykes from Oliver Twist. David Shaw acted out the court scene with all the gusto of Dickens himself – charming and starry in narration, protean, performing with the whole body and with great mimicry. His depiction of the Judge, one of the chocolate teapots of his time, was a particular delight. I had been discussing with someone beforehand why Dickens never got a knighthood. Henry Irving’s was not until 25 years after Dickens died. He was probably too ‘common’, wore colourful waistcoats, spoke up for the people and showed the establishment up as a bunch of incompetent rascals. Mr. Shaw’s acting gloriously illuminated that side of Dickens.
His Oliver Twist extracts were a recent addition to his repertoire and were not quite so assured, needing some polishing. But he had all the wheedling charm of Fagin, the anguish of Nancy and the organ-toned brutality of Sykes. I don’t know how the women present were affected by the climax; but it certainly gave me the vapours.

Basil Abbott

Speed the Plough
Theatre Royal, Bury St. Edmunds

“Odds dickens and daizeys! Zoo it be, zure enow!” Ah, they knew how to write dialogue in early 19th century plays.
This was another script-in-hand session aimed at Restoring the Repertoire. Thus the theatre has uncovered the plays that would have been performed there in the early years.
The actors have not seen the script until that morning, so we are privileged to see the rehearsal process at an early point.
All takes place on the stage, with the audience for once upstaging the actors, who speak into microphones as though it was a radio recording.
Any production gains but also loses something as it heads to performance. When Gielgud directed Richard Burton as Hamlet he asked the actors to try and retain the feeling of the run-through.
After that the show becomes ossified by costumes, make-up and the real props. At Bury they have caught the early freshness, the first moments of creation, but with an audience as well.
The plays can seem funny old stuff, with comic yokels, aristocrats with secrets, a ploughboy who turns out to be nobly born, a fire at the castle; but they are of their time.
The actors, directed by Tim Welton, perform with their customary verve and energy, firing your imagination for a full production.
There will be further script-in-hand presentations on 7 March and 18 April.

Basil Abbott

The museum is closed for the winter but the work goes on. The builders are repairing the pillars and roof, while the volunteers create new displays inside.
They will feature sporting memories, royal celebrations, the 150th anniversary of Diss Church Junior School, the 70th anniversary of the Friendly Invasion of Americans and the history of local Freemasonry.
In the past year flints, fossils and thatching gave a traditional sturdiness to the displays, thanks to the volunteers and the geological knowledge of Peter Perkins.
The Manning exhibition colourfully re-created Thomas’ 1811 meeting with the Dalai Lama while the 20 events of the Friends in High Places festival were well attended by the public.
In the summer some of the High School teachers adapted material from our murder mystery, featuring the Mannings, and used it for a problem solving day for feeder schools.
Some pals and I took part in the carnival again, representing the museum, and the Denny Centre will have their annual pantomime before Christmas.
Recently, for the High School, I showed 26 European exchange students around the town.
The same week I gave a presentation, in top hat and tail coat, on Victorian Childhood to the delightful Mellis Brownies.
The historical project handbook from Brownie HQ was obviously not designed to stretch them too much. When studying the Ice Age they played with bits of ice. (Truly.)
The Victorian section mentioned only games. So at least they learned something from the museum. I was bombarded with questions, as they found that their lives were not so far from the 1800s.

Basil Abbott

Mozart’s Requiem
& Respighi’s Nativity
Burgate Singers
Diss Corn Hall

The 1790s were an extraordinary period. The world was in ferment, with war on land and sea, the French Revolution, Rights of Man, Mary Wollstonecraft’s works, the Gothic novel and secret societies everywhere.
The flames of the dying century produced a Requiem by the dying Mozart, around which a mythology of subterfuge has grown. Was he poisoned? Did someone else complete his work?
The Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) section would have apocalyptic significance for many at the end of a century. The hell and pit language of the Offertorium picks up on the Gothic style of the time.
As balm for troubled times it never dates. Under Alain Judd’s direction the singers, soloists and orchestra seemed to pick up on the zeitgeist of those days.
Stormy, with visions of fire and brimstone, pleas for divine mercy, gratitude for the coming of grace – all these moods found high expression.
Ask any musician – Respighi’s Nativity needs good soloists, a strong male section, Italian lessons, fine oboists and two complementary pianists.
Apart from having just one pianist, the performance featured some of the most musical shepherds who ever burst into song.
It had murmuring warmth, full-throttle praise and the gentlest of Amens, impassioned solos from Aurelia Jonvaux and Catherine Parkin and woodwind with hints of the Renaissance.
This was a concert at times almost overwhelming in its emotion and depiction of the world at the brink.

BASIL ABBOTT

The Blue Angel
Open Space Theatre Company
St. Edmund’s Hall, Hoxne

Tacky decadence is the keynote of Pam Gems’ version of the well-known von Sternberg film.
Thin as a play, thinner as a musical, it uses explanatory vignettes, like film scenes, between production numbers.
It may not have the crackling menace of Cabaret but there is something about it, an odd glow of appeal.
Director David Green may have seen parallels with pre-war Germany and our own difficult times, echoed ironically by the tinny refrain of Happy Days Are Here Again.
Following the iconic Marlene Dietrich is well nigh impossible, not least since Lola seems an androgynous figure. All the best Dietrich impersonations are by men.
Not that you would want to miss Emma Martin, an easy girl to become obsessed with. Tall and attractively hetero, with a Vogue face, she is a star turn.
Then, as now, there was no fool like an old fool when a girl flashes her suspenders. Paul Baker charts the downward path of the stuffy professor with painful transparency.
Dafydd Westacott, Jake Kubala and Zack Flegg give pleasing energy and cheekiness to the roles of the students.
Some of the actresses must have thought that their days as cabaret dancers were over. But the mixture of bimbos and mature women helps to re-create the atmosphere.

Basil Abbott

The Tempest
WARTS
Redgrave Church

WARTS can usually be relied upon to do something out of the ordinary.
How many other local groups would present Twelfth Night in the style of Casablanca, or Our Country’s Good in the round?
Tim Hall’s production of The Tempest takes its tone from silent, Gothic films and movies like The Abominable Dr. Phibes.
One innovation is having three Ariels (Kathy Mills, Lynn Wilson and Carys Allen), like pesky WI members who have been at the parsnip wine. Their breath is the tempest and they control the hapless castaways like puppets.
An impressive cast is led by Steve Humfress, bringing all his experience to the magus-like Prospero.
Rob Johnson’s wild, Neanderthal Caliban is full of rage and pain, as well as being a dab hand at the organ. The live music is actually played by Peter Creswell.
Rhiannon Ellis (Miranda) and George Eddy (Ferdinand), young lovers in Our Country’s Good, again bring youthful freshness to their roles.
The group is blessed with a strong male contingent – Dave McGeevor, Richard Telford, Keith Charman, David Neeve, Graham Freeman, Derek Mitchell, John Tate, Mike Daly – all performing up to the hilt.
But a special word for Phil Isbell (Antonio), who had never acted until the previous production; but already has the assurance of a veteran.

Basil Abbott

Diss Museum’s Manning family commemoration celebrated local heritage, brought visitors to the town and had great educational value. The residency of the Tashi Lhunpo monks was a notable heritage partnership with the Corn Hall.
It is often forgotten that projects like this can boost the economy. From the museum’s estimates: the Spice Cottage restaurant made £500 from a commemorative meal, while the church banked about £700 from the Murder Evening. The Nepal in Need charity took home £268 when a Sherpa came to speak. Festival takings of £500 helped to finance the monks. They were paid £3,000 (largely funded) and made about £500 selling their merchandise. A local landlord received £630 for the monks’ accommodation. The Corn Hall and museum shared £3,200 in takings, with the museum making a further £90 from a raffle. This is not to mention the people who bought drinks at the Corn Hall, went into local shops and restaurants and (in the case of at least one family) stayed in the town for several nights.
By the end of the project about £9,000 had changed hands. Thus, in difficult financial times, an imaginative festival can create wealth.

The Tashi Lhunpo monks endeared themselves to the people of Diss during their week-long residency at the Corn Hall. Their beautiful sand mandala was the talk of the town; and about 100 people came to witness its destruction. Many then followed the monks to the Mere, symbolically to deposit some of the sand in the water. Their workshops and concert were well attended; and the Friends in High Places festival proved another winner for Diss Museum.

Museum manager Basil Abbott has identified his father, Pip Abbott, as the boy sitting on the ground on the right. The boy behind him is Alfred ‘Teddie’ Nunn. But who are the others? Can anyone spot fathers or grandfathers on this Diss Church School picture from 84 years ago?

The museum often gets enquiries about evacuees during the war; but we find that there is little recorded information about them.
We tend to think that a trickle of children arrived by train and were billeted with local families.
But, in August 1939, 382 children arrived at Diss railway station to be dispersed around the area.
The records of Raglan School, in Bush Hill Park, north of London, describe the mass exodus to the country.
“28.8.39 to 31.8.39: Full staff on evacuation registration. All gas masks were fitted and replaced if necessary. Every member of evacuation party labelled and given iron rations. Party assembled at 9am. State of party – 173 boys, 143 girls, 66 infants. Total 382. Teaching staff 36. Voluntary helper escorts 36. Roll called. Prayers said by the Vicar of St. Mark’s Church. 10.30am – party left school premises to entrain at Bush Hill Park Station for an unknown destination.”
“Has proved to be Diss in Norfolk. There the Raglan School party was most kindly received; and eventually, after the last bus and car load of children had been dispatched to billets, teachers, by then very weary, tried to accommodate themselves to strange surroundings and conditions, and wondered what the future held in store.”
“By the end of the first weekend the staff had located all children and completed registers of addresses etc; and it was then that we realised how completely the Raglan party was disintegrated, for staff and children were scattered over 17 villages of the Depwade area, stretching from the Norwich boundary in the north to the Bungay district in the south. The difficulties of caring adequately for all the needs of the children in these conditions can be imagined, but the job was well and faithfully done through the almost superhuman efforts of the teachers and a grand team of helpers.”
“Before long a steady trickle of children was returning home, and it became apparent that the educational needs of pupils in the home districts must be met.”
I am indebted to Mr. Colin Walker for this information. He visited Diss recently, for the first time since the war, and recognised the White Horse pub, where he and his family were billeted.

Basil Abbott