There is nothing on earth like the theatre for experiencing something innate amongst us and that is not defined by class, that cannot be the preserve of the few.

I feel a zealot but need to say that theatre need not be class-bound and sticking with that notion of not belonging is dangerous, even when totally understandable. Theatre, and particularly performances as powerful as this, are too important to leave out and allow to float by.

That was it, an historical paternal tale of magic and light, smoke and sultry genius that could only happen once. Theatre did not feature in any formative years for me, except a school visit to Bolton Octagon that I was never to enter as we ended up getting punished for coach bound misdemeanours and had to sit writing lines on separate aisles of the bus, with an angry teacher and no Merchant of Venice in sight.įor sure, me and my siblings had heard many times of dad going to see Shirley Bassey at a theatre in London the day his National Service finished. According to many a definition, even admitting to going into one marks you out as middle class and part of some other group, an aspirational badge of honour. Theatre can be an alienating place and often the very notion of going there separates us out from each other. I say this especially for people that have no intention of going whatsoever.

It is my suggestion to you that you must watch Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Royal Exchange in Manchester as a wormhole to universal epiphany.

Cat oa hot tin roof