As lighties, long before Lea and I got into rock ‘n roll, we joined the Children’s Theatre group. Monica Marsden, the company’s founder, producer and director, was something of a maverick and 'into' theatrical ‘innovation’. She decided to push the boundaries and produce “Robin Hood”.
What's so innovative about Robin Hood I hear you ask. Nothing except that Monica
decided she was going to stage the production outdoors in Salisbury's Municipal Park.
Maybe she was
influenced by the Minack Theatre built on a cliff top in Cornwall, who knows, but she was determined her production of ‘Robin’ was
going to be staged al fresco.
I can see her logic. Salisbury Park boasted great
swathes of trees and bushes eliminating the need for forest–type scenery. It also it meant the production could be far more expansive than if staged in a conventional theatre with soldiers on horseback and lots of
swash-buckling sword fights and of course the all important climatic archery contest.
After a number of auditions Lea and I along with at least thirty other kids managed to land what Monica described as ‘the extremely important parts’ of ‘Villagers’. Villagers had no scripted lines to learn and had to wander around adding colour to the scene – i.e. numbers, and ad-libbing when required. Seeing as we the ‘villagers’ were aged between seven and eleven we must have looked like dwarfs or Munchins compared to the adult actors playing Robin Hood, his merry men, Maid Marion, the Sheriff of Nottingham and his soldiers, etc.
Lea and I were disappointed at not landing one of the more flamboyant, swash-buckling adult Merry Men roles but that’s theatre for you, loaded with disappointment. Lea, however, made up for the dearth of lines by giving ‘his’ villager a hunchback and limp, both of which grew more pronounced over the seven scheduled performances; Monday night through to Saturday with an extra afternoon matinee performance thrown in on Saturday.
The first six performances went down well with the large family audiences that packed into Salisbury Park ... which, although gratifying, was not necessarily an indication on the merits of the production. Back then the population was so starved of entertainment they would flock to see literally anything. For example one evening dad drove the whole family, mum, Neil, Lea, baby Charlie and myself into town to see the city's first neon sign...and we weren't the only ones. People actually flocked to see it...and it wasn't one of those animated neon signs that appears to move either. It was just a static neon sign which advertised a Coffee Bar. So it's small wonder Monica Marsden’s production of Robin Hood attracted an audience.
Fast forward to the second Saturday performance.
Once again things seemed to be going without a hitch - that is until the penultimate scene, ‘The Archery Contest’ between Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham. Not only would the victor win a burlap sack stuffed with scrunched-up newspaper and marked ‘hundred gold sovereigns’, but also the hand of Maid Marion.
Monica prided herself on covering all potential mishaps and had hired a champion archer to play the ‘masked’ stranger aka ‘Robin of Loxley’ for one scene and one scene only, the ‘Archery Contest’. Just prior to the archery contest commencing, the actor Robin, who shall be called ‘Robin mark one’ went behind a bush and the 'masked' but otherwise identically dressed real-life archery champion who shall be called, ‘Robin mark two’, came out.
To a chorus of hisses and boos the dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham shot first. He was pathetically bad and couldn't even manage to hit the target, which was hardly surprising as he barely took aim. However, on that fateful Saturday night, accompanied by the audience’s hisses and boos, the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham sauntered smugly to his position, pointed his bow in the general direction of the target set fifty odd yards away, and let fly.
“WISSSSSH”...The arrow sailed through the night ... then ...“THUD”.
For the first time in rehearsal or performance the Sheriff’s arrow actually hit the target, and not just hit the target, it landed dead centre in the bull’s eye. I swear it couldn't have been more central if a group of mathematicians armed with rulers and set squares had pinpointed the exact centre and placed the arrow there themselves.
Suddenly, and for the first time that week, the real-life champion archer surpremo ‘Robin mark two’, was under pressure. With a shaking hand he took aim. You could hear a pin drop. The audience was riveted. Would our latter day Robin, like Robin of legend, be able to direct his arrow to strike the notch in the shaft of the Sheriff’s arrow and split it? Yeah, right... as if. The archery champion missed the target completely. It fell yards short of the target. Nevertheless, and this is where us humble villagers came into our own. We rushed over to Robin, Lea hunched up and dragging his gammy leg behind him, shouting at the top of our voices, for some reason in a dodgy West Country accent, “Robin has won! Robin has won! Robin has won!” If you are going to lie, lie with conviction...and if possible use a West Country accent.
We, the jubilant villagers, escorted the triumphant gibbering wreck of Robin mark two by way of the bush so he could switch with actor Robin mark one and shepherd him over to Friar Tuck waiting with Maid Marion to seal their hands in marriage.
During the ceremony when the good Friar asked if there was any reason that the marriage should not go ahead some plonka shouted it was a travesty. The Sheriff okie had been robbed. He had won Maid Marion’s hand fair and square... and had been stitched up like a kipper. Oh, well, that’s amateur dramatics for you.
Lea & I with Gillian Marsden from one of the Children's Theatre productions
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