“At last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. ‘Who are you?” {Alice}

Carmina Burana, composed by Carl Orff, choreographed by Janet Sinclair.

I was privileged enough to play a principal role in this incredible production. Our Guest Artist and my partner, was a soloist from The Scottish Ballet Company. I was 16 or 17 yrs old.

I remember this show was a big deal. We had a live Orchestra and performed ‘on the round’ …This means the audience are in front, both sides and behind you. We had a live choir too. It was a spectacular production.

I was surrounded by terrific dancers, I felt the weight of my privilege and worked really hard during rehearsals. There was one particular pas de deux that I loved, I still remember most of the choreography.

We would start on opposite corners and run towards each other. We would run past each other, catching our hands behind our back to come to a beautiful halt. Then Pas de deux lifts and sequence would begin.

Now picture this; Rehearsals were complete….It is opening night.

I had a good friend at the time, who was supportive and kind. She thought it would be a good idea to help calm me down before the show began. My nerves were all over the place!

This is when, I first tried weed.

She offered me a few pulls of this lovely hot, smokey joint. For some bizarre reason, I thought it would be a fantastic idea! “It’ll totally calm you down” she says.

Well fuck.

I was an absolute mess.

I remember my entrance…..my friends and other cast members, after seeing me stumble out of the bathrooms, had decided to gather in the wings to help me through it. (Or laugh at the incredible train wreck that was about to happen).

The world was a blur. Whooooah, Wheeeeee. This was going to be fun.

I began the run toward my partner (the Guest Soloist no less) in what felt like slow motion.

Of course I missed his hand.

My hand flapped around aimlessly and I had the most bizarre sensation that meant I couldn’t move my face.

I wavered around trying to find his hand and remember trying to make an expression. Some sort of movement. Anything! I stared at my friends in the wings.

I could see them mouthing “Smile! Arabesque, arabesque!” They looked panic stricken.

I don’t really remember the rest of the show, just that I had to truly concentrate hard to make one leg move in front of the other. What a disaster!

It was only by the curtain Call, when the full length ballet was coming to the end….that I started to come out of my fog.

What.the.fuck.

Ah, bless me. Bless the young, stupid me.

Oh, and apparently this is on video somewhere. In the archives. Haha, I would love to see it, would I? Or should it stay right there. Young, hilarious, foolish me trapped on a VHS tape.

Hope you enjoyed my tale of humiliation.

Let this be a lesson to you.

Maybe stage fright is best left alone.