Terrifying - but the show must go on

I don't think I've ever been quite so terrified.

James Marston

I don't think I've ever been quite so terrified.

My latest foray into the world of musical theatre ends at the end of this week with performances at Felixstowe's Spa Pavilion theatre - this time with the Dennis Lowe Theatre Company's Summer Magic Show.

I shall leave the confines of my small Edwardian flat with sea views distant, slap on some make up, put on something bright and colourful and entertain.

Well that's the idea anyway, problem is I'm rather nervous.

There's quite a lot for me to do, I've got a little bit of dancing, singing and even a small sketch to complete with aplomb during which I have to squat repeatedly and shout out words.

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I'm sure you can picture it in your mind's eye.

In another section I stand next to a 19-year-old dancer called Ashley who can remember steps, is half my size and has taken to whispering like a ventriloquist the next move I should be making to dispel the very real reality that I may well forget.

As I said to my colleague Peter the other morning over a mid morning cheese scone.

“You know it's very difficult to entertain.”

He replied with a wit almost as sharp as mine: “Especially with your kind of talent.”

Unusual sense of humour isn't it?

Anyway I know that whatever happens I'm especially looking forward to the after show buffet with quiche to celebrate.

Happy Birthday Camilla - well for yesterday.

As regular readers will know, the duchess is one of my favourites.

Always ready with a smile and sensible enough not to complain, she always looks jolly.

The other day she even had a ferry named after her during a trip to Cornwall.

I hope she had a fun day.

NOREEN, my oldest fan, stopped me in the street the other day.

She'd been out to lunch and like me enjoys the odd glass of white wine.

“Hello James,” she said as I walked along Hamilton Road one sunny afternoon, “How are you?”

We exchanged pleasantries, but Noreen informed me she's not been on the best of form recently.

Let's hope she's feeling better.

RARELY am I one for criticising the Royal Family.

Indeed as far as I am concerned constitutional monarchy works well, there's no popular republican movement anyway and I have a sentimental attachment to the House of Windsor - so let's leave things as they are.

However, for the first time I'm beginning to wonder if the royals aren't playing us media types a little too cleverly.

In recent years the royal media machine has got slicker and slicker and is noticeably more professional.

Just this week, here at the Evening Star, we were notified of the forthcoming wedding of a Lady Rose Windsor - 23rd in line to the throne if you didn't know - and of Prince William's latest exploits aboard a battleship.

I'm no cynic, well not really, but feeding us media regular drops of royal news is far more sensible than starving us of titbits.

You almost wonder, dare I say it, if young William's tour of duty in the forces, the navy at this week, is as much a media exercise as a military or naval one.

Certainly, if William was a product he couldn't have been marketed better. Are we being spun?

The Windsor's seem to have finally realised that the media - newspapers, television and radio are their closest bed fellows - there's no point to a monarchy which is invisible and as long as they are there they will make the news.

They need us and we need them.

IT'S not something us journalists like to admit to.

But every now and again, once in a while, just ever so occasionally and despite being always right we make the odd mistake.

Thankfully I've managed to avoid too many in my so far illustrious career.

But writing Def Leopard instead of Def Leppard, mistaking Andrea Bocelli for Andre Bocelli, saying “Mick who?” to Mick Hucknall when I was interviewing him and asking McFly how the five of them get on when they are touring to be told by the lad at the other end of the phone “There are four of us, mate” have all, it's true, been errors on my part.

My colleague Mike, who enjoys golf in his spare time, has recently told me to be careful about my its and it's.

I told him “Its is a minefield, isn't it?

“It is” he replied

I'm no further forward.