Costumes.

I am in a play (as I have mentioned before). I've got a small part that I am determined to make the most of, as the rehearsals are taking over my life at the moment. I adore acting.

For this play, we need costumes that are in the style of 1920s parochial Russia. I am (in the play) around fifty five, and a farm steward's disgruntled wife. Yesterday we went to try the costumes. The girl playing my melancholic daughter is a brilliant actress, and blasts me off the stage every time we do a scene together. She's also very pretty, very petite and very slim, but not very nice; I get the distinct impression that she detests me. The changing room was communal, and the conditions for our sharing it unfavourable.

Needless to say, I felt a colossal giant when trying on things next to her; she wears black lace, which looks perfect on her. She looks like a china doll. I wear long dresses which are in navy serge, with ruffles and high necklines, making me Juliet's sad old matron. Ah well, my character is a sad old matron. The only thing is, I'm not sure I want to be a sad old matron. I worry that I am typecast. When I went to nursery school we used to sing a nursery rhyme, about a witch and a princess. One of the blonde girls was always the princess; I longed to be the princess. I was, a few times; but I was more often cast the witch. I realise now the dramatic potential of this part, but the Princess got to be beautiful and to have the Prince, and the witch was always the loser.