Hurray for a marvellous blog by the wonderful Gemma Whelan ladies and gentlemen...
I’m often asked ‘what do you do for a living’ and every now and again I’ll spend some time thinking about it, and when I do I struggle to come up with a definite answer.
So I’m going to tell you story… It’s a Tuesday evening and we have a youth theatre session at Eastmoor, Now just so you get a clear picture the Eastmoor group is bursting with 7-11 yr olds full of spirit and gumption who constantly twirl, fidget, hum, play with there hair, make inappropriate statements like ‘Gemma it’s my first holy communion on Sunday’ or ‘have you seen the scab on my knee?’. It’s one of my most magical times of the week. So we’ve done the best and worst of the week, and after much drama and deliberation we decided the colour of the group, and we’ve played funky seaweed and managed to escape with one minor carpet burn. After a quick break, we began to work on our performance piece for the Shakespeare Festival, and all of sudden they focus, they find their positions, they come in on there cues, and follow the path of the performance. As group they created tension so beautifully that when Miriam stepped forward pulling on her finger tips and searching the floor for confidence they gave her a moment to take a breath look up and find her focus and begin and with her beautiful, pure, and assured voice she spoke loud clear these words…..
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder;
Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
And when she’d finished they clapped and whooped and lost their focus and began to fidget once again.
So if I could capture all of that into a solid answer for ‘what I do at work’ that would be amazing, but it’s never going to happen,and for me I don’t think I would want to as it is ever changing, evolving and adapting.
I’m often asked ‘what do you do for a living’ and every now and again I’ll spend some time thinking about it, and when I do I struggle to come up with a definite answer.
So I’m going to tell you story… It’s a Tuesday evening and we have a youth theatre session at Eastmoor, Now just so you get a clear picture the Eastmoor group is bursting with 7-11 yr olds full of spirit and gumption who constantly twirl, fidget, hum, play with there hair, make inappropriate statements like ‘Gemma it’s my first holy communion on Sunday’ or ‘have you seen the scab on my knee?’. It’s one of my most magical times of the week. So we’ve done the best and worst of the week, and after much drama and deliberation we decided the colour of the group, and we’ve played funky seaweed and managed to escape with one minor carpet burn. After a quick break, we began to work on our performance piece for the Shakespeare Festival, and all of sudden they focus, they find their positions, they come in on there cues, and follow the path of the performance. As group they created tension so beautifully that when Miriam stepped forward pulling on her finger tips and searching the floor for confidence they gave her a moment to take a breath look up and find her focus and begin and with her beautiful, pure, and assured voice she spoke loud clear these words…..
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder;
Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
And when she’d finished they clapped and whooped and lost their focus and began to fidget once again.
So if I could capture all of that into a solid answer for ‘what I do at work’ that would be amazing, but it’s never going to happen,and for me I don’t think I would want to as it is ever changing, evolving and adapting.
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