The first time I went to a theatre it was to see a pantomime, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, at
Leeds Grand Theatre. I was about four or five years old and very impressed with it.
I loved the lights, the flutter of programmes and sensed what I now know to be
excitement in the audience. And the lovely costumes of prince and princess and, of course, the fairies! The flying ballet was a great joy as the fairies flew up as far as
the balcony, scattering flowers to the children who caught a flower and took one home. I never managed to catch one.

When we went outside I remember walking over a grate in the road. It was wet
and shining with rain. I saw my shoes and socks getting wet. I was walking with my
parents and my hands were in theirs, one at each side. My arms felt stretched. I was
crying, mouth wide open, because Beauty had found her Prince and everyone had
to go home. I wanted it to last forever. My mother was a bit sharp with me, as she
pulled along for the bus but my father was quiet, deep in his own imagination.
I knew that my Dad was as sad about it as I was.

If you can say that early memories are a basis for life then I can say that I always
have a great feeling of excitement when a show begins and a feeling of sadness
and loss when it ends.