Concrete and Clay

I am no great fan of Amateur Dramatics, with distant memories of a damp church hall in North Finchley, and the upstairs of a pub in Greenwich hosting uninspiring performances of some obscure French playwright. However, the lure of treading the boards to no less than the Bard himself was too strong and so it was, last Friday, in front of a hall packed with 150 excited school boys, that I stepped out into the lights for the first time since Sixth Form.