Racks and torments

I've been back at my drama class again this term, and last night was our 'dress' for our end of term/end of course show. That actually sounds rather grand, when what it is is an evening of monologues and duologues (well, one duologue), with wine and nibbles (well, we have to do something to tempt the audience in!)

We've built our stage (thankfully easier than it sounds), and started running through our speeches - I've chosen one from Farqhuar's 'The Beaux Stratagem' - all the others are pretty contemporary. I run through it a couple of times, and K, our tutor offers some useful advice on pacing it, and taking my time over a couple of sections. Others go through their speeches, and then we come to J - he was there earlier, and had struggled with his lines. We're now doing a run, and we look around - somehow, he's gone. A couple of the guys who have done their bit are rehearsing outside, so we ask if they've seen him - no! It seems he's bottled it, as there's no sign of him. Eventually, about an hour later, we track him down in the pub!