WE open a week tomorrow. Though I'm expecting a ripple - just a small one - of applause as I step on to the stage of the Regent theatre next Wednesday evening I am already a little nervous.

James Marston

WE open a week tomorrow. Though I'm expecting a ripple - just a small one - of applause as I step on to the stage of the Regent theatre next Wednesday evening I am already a little nervous.

Now for my fellow members of the Ipswich infinitely Operatic and indeed Dramatic Society nerves are often as sign of a good performance -for me getting myself into a state is simply part and parcel of my addiction to attention - I'm not even a lead.

Nevertheless, despite these irrational fears I am excited about our forthcoming production of Singin in the Rain.

It's a marvellously fluffy story with some great tap numbers and nice music so I'm expecting a large number of fans to come along and watch.

You see I have to dance - and though not much of a mover the dancers just adore me.

Not only that I have to dance at the front of the stage in a large white suit with gold sequins. To be honest it's a moment of theatrical history that few of you will want to miss.

As I execute a perfectly timed step ball change, spin around take a bow and head off to the wings to remove my make-up before heading out for an all you can eat Chinese buffet and a shandy, I shall be wondering how on earth I ended up spending a week in April doing this sort of thing.

Other people have other hobbies that don't involve such exposure with the added frissant of public humiliation.

I could try golf but I'm too young, I could try polo but I don't like horses, I could take up train spotting but Felixstowe has only got a small station - you see I'm limited.

Pam - the costume lady with a love of sequins - has already run into trouble with my requirements.

You see my yellow latex suit - a creation that has to be seen to be believed - didn't fit, dispelling the myth that one size fits all.

I wonder if that other Regent regular Daniel O'Donnell suffers the same problem?

Pam's told me not to worry. She said: “Let me worry about it James. We've got some big one's coming from the Isle of Wight.”

Well that's a relief.

GOOD old Prince Philip.

Of course from what we know of the Duke lying in hospital must be a pretty frustrating experience and he's a man who may well have been rather annoyed if he'd had to stay there much longer.

Naturally us hacks have been

interested with his condition.

Indeed the press pack who report on such things and keep us all informed have been camped outside watching and waiting and making those live reports from the scene that us viewers find so exciting.

Well he's out of hospital now and things are looking up. Let's hope he remains a virtual stranger to bad health.

LUNCHING in London with an old friend on Saturday, I was shocked to find that even the shortest of Tube rides is now £4.

When I was a young lad about town you could get a single ticket for less than a pound - I must be getting old.

Of course living in Suffolk we have no underground system so I'm no longer used to subterranean travel unless you count the occasional trip through Stoke tunnel.

But though London has never been cheap this does seem a fair whack for getting around.

MAVIS Bensely - our intrepid Globetrotter who has developed quite a following among Star readers - has now returned to the safe shores of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland after a magnificent cruise around South America and the Caribbean.

Mavis, who always entertains and fears nothing, very kindly bought me a present from her trip - a set of Peruvian pan pipes.

I've tried them out though I can't quite get the knack.

However hard I try, I just can't seem to make them play anything by Richard Clayderman.

My Evening Star colleagues kindly suggested out loud and rather forcefully that I might like to persevere with my new instrument in the privacy and comfort of my Felixstowe salon with sea views (distant).

I can't think why.

I RECENTLY hosted a little soiree for chums in my little flat.

A very amusing evening ensued in which my guests drank several cocktails and polished off numerous mini pizzas.

But isn't entertaining hard work?

No sooner had I sat down to join in the conversation and turn into James the raconteur was I up and about ensuring drinks were mixed.

Indeed I was almost constantly with my head in the oven providing a flow of hot nibbles.

I do so hope I talked about myself enough.

OUR editor Nigel, who has always advised us journos that life is no dress rehearsal, has been awarded the most singular of honours.

An e-mailed missive sent to him the other day informed him that he is a “potential candidate” in the Emerald Who's Who for Executives and Professionals.

Sounds very impressive doesn't it? Apparently the Emerald Who's Who is “the authority for professional networking and recognition in virtually every industry across the globe.”

The e-mail was effusive saying “Your professional experience as editor has been recognized and has qualified you to be included.”

However, he has been selected “to represent Norwich, Norfolk, United Kingdom.”

Nigel seemed unimpressed. He said: “I've hit the Emerald standard - but in the wrong county!”

On this occasion he shan't be following his advice. This particular opportunity can slip by.

By the way, he say he already knows he is a jewel but I couldn't possibly comment.