Decades of smells, emotions and memories have taken up residence and hang from the  auditorium brick walls like much loved paintings in a familiar gallery we have visited over  and over again.

The auditorium doors have closed behind us with a much rehearsed ‘thunk’. A blanket of soundproofed marshmallow coddles everyone and everything in its wake.

Time is suspended. Reality is suspended. The world doesn’t have a ticket for the show so it must wait outside for us.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

It can only imagine the wonders about to unfold behind the doors that have thunked shut.

The Noise.

The Smells.

The Sounds.

The Spectacle.

The Tantrums.

The show director stands centre stage, warming up for the nervous breakdown they  promised themselves after the second rehearsal.

Was it only three months ago? Seems like years!

‘How hard can it possibly be? I’m not asking you to walk on water, I just want the sofa  moving Up Stage Right and the table moving Down Stage Left. We open in four hours.  Would it be possible to do it today? Marvellous.’

Noise.

Smells

Voices.

Noise.

Smells.

Voices.

An announcement is made from backstage by a disembodied voice.

‘Listen up everybody. Stage Right ladies toilets don’t flush, the blinds in the men’s  dressing rooms don’t close and would you all please stop slamming the bloody stage  door.’

More voices join the babbling chorus.

Happy voices, angry voices, shouting voices, singing voices.

Noise.

Smells.

Friendships.

Voices.

Noise.

Smells.

Friendships.

Voices.

‘Lighting, can we have less yellow in the stage colour wash please? We’re meant to be in  Sleeping Beauty’s castle, not the jaundice ward of Milton Keynes Hospital. Thank you.’

Dance practice in the orchestra pit.

Costume checks, seams let out, gussets repaired.

Sound checks.

Lighting checks.

Buttons pressed on and buttons pressed off.

Switches flicked this way and that way, everything plunged, unexpectedly, into  claustrophobic darkness.

Muffled screams.

Four letter expletives as set builders thumbs get whacked in the unexpected black out.

Noises.

Smells.

Friendships.

Memories.

Voices.

Noises.

Smells.

Friendships.

Memories.

Voices.

NOISESMELLSFRIENSHIPSMEMORIESVOICESNOISESMELLS FRIENSHIPSMEMORIESVOICES.

All blending together in the beautiful, discordant, chaotic harmony that is Stantonbury Theatre Get-in.