Spuds - Two Words to Rule Them All
While admiring my newly sprouted potato plants this morning (the photo is above) I had an extraordinary flashback.
It's 1970, my last year of high school at Vaucluse Boys High. The year 12 students (called sixth form back then) are putting on a play called The Kitchen, by Arnold Wesker, written in 1957.
Looking back, that is sort of remarkable as it is, since The Kitchen is pretty much a two-word prediction about the rest of my life.
Talking about two words...
The play is set in the basement kitchen of a large restaurant, as thirty chefs, waitresses, and kitchen porters slowly begin the day preparing to serve lunch. The central story tells of a frustrated love affair between a high-spirited, young, German chef, Peter, and a married English waitress, Monique.
Anyway, I really wanted to be in the play but my auditions were less than impressive. I think the drama teacher felt sorry for me and gave me a part where I had to memorise two words. That's it - a two-word part.
It's opening night. As the stage lights start to rise a dark figure (me) enters the stage dragging a sack of potatoes. I am a female kitchen porter. I always got caste as women - don't ask me why - I don't know the answer. Oh, it was a boys' school - that could explain it. And I was in touch with my feminine side even back then.
Anyway, I heave the sack to centre stage and open my mouth to say my memorable two words; but I fluff my lines! Lines you say? Two words?!! Yep. I say 'spuds' instead of 'the spuds'.
I'm so nervous and ashamed I slink off the stage, past the incredulous drama teacher and end my theatre career as unceremoniously as it has began.
So there we have it. Spuds.