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The theatre was
a rat hole, with dirty dressing rooms, squashed backstage
and it stank of sweat, greasepaint and cigarettes.
There were
definitely funny things that crawled in the seats - you
could feel them if the show wasn't too good, and you got
bored.
But it was
Johannesburg's own rat hole theatre, that saw passionate
productions, underpaid staff, financial balancing act all
year round, the dedication of its owner. There was no
other place like it. It was not a pleasure to work
there, but it was a privilege.
One job in that
place and you actually felt you had graduated into theatre,
maybe not the big time, but it the modern version of the
strolling player
The bar also
stayed illegally open, and many was the time we left at 4
am, having to be at rehearsals in just 5 hours time. |