need to choose one.? 1) Luisa had read about the different stages of bereavement, working through from guilt and sadness to anger. But no-one had written a check-list for her daily betrayal. It had been a few months now and she still hadn’t recovered from what she’d done to her mum.
Sometimes the sense of guilt completely overwhelmed her. There would be no warning. It would just suddenly strike, stopping her mid-shop as she wandered the aisles of Starry, Starry Night or Hellfire, depending on how dark she was feeling.
She’d even known it to halt a rehearsal.
One minute she’d be counting the beats, watching the dust motes dancing round the room to the flutes’ showy solo. Then the click of her combats on the chair would start to make her nervous. The sound of the buttons scraping on the plastic would begin to dominate her thoughts and she’d realise she was slipping, losing her concentration and her place in the music. Before long she’d be replaying her favourite questions rather than listening to the orchestra, working through from ‘had she done the right thing?’ to ‘was her mum happy?’
2) The Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama was a building that divided opinion. Not that the quality of its output was questioned. It was undoubtedly a seething hotbed of talent that religiously produced musicians and actors worthy of gracing stages and shopping precincts across Scotland and the world.
Every few years, the cosmos, lecturers and natural talent would align and a star was born. Like a real birth, the process was littered with anticipation, tears, alcohol, one night stands, pain and cravings. All of which were quickly forgotten when the call came from Film Four, Working Title or Hollywood. So, yes, the ‘Academy’ as it was affectionately known, was recognised as a purveyor of talented and trained individuals but the building itself was an altogether different matter. Modern, squat (for all its height!) and built in red brick more suited to a council estate, it was little wonder the nearby Theatre Royal (a building of grace and grandeur) politely turned its eyes from the younger upstart’s uneasy pretentions at modernity.
Sometimes the sense of guilt completely overwhelmed her. There would be no warning. It would just suddenly strike, stopping her mid-shop as she wandered the aisles of Starry, Starry Night or Hellfire, depending on how dark she was feeling.
She’d even known it to halt a rehearsal.
One minute she’d be counting the beats, watching the dust motes dancing round the room to the flutes’ showy solo. Then the click of her combats on the chair would start to make her nervous. The sound of the buttons scraping on the plastic would begin to dominate her thoughts and she’d realise she was slipping, losing her concentration and her place in the music. Before long she’d be replaying her favourite questions rather than listening to the orchestra, working through from ‘had she done the right thing?’ to ‘was her mum happy?’
2) The Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama was a building that divided opinion. Not that the quality of its output was questioned. It was undoubtedly a seething hotbed of talent that religiously produced musicians and actors worthy of gracing stages and shopping precincts across Scotland and the world.
Every few years, the cosmos, lecturers and natural talent would align and a star was born. Like a real birth, the process was littered with anticipation, tears, alcohol, one night stands, pain and cravings. All of which were quickly forgotten when the call came from Film Four, Working Title or Hollywood. So, yes, the ‘Academy’ as it was affectionately known, was recognised as a purveyor of talented and trained individuals but the building itself was an altogether different matter. Modern, squat (for all its height!) and built in red brick more suited to a council estate, it was little wonder the nearby Theatre Royal (a building of grace and grandeur) politely turned its eyes from the younger upstart’s uneasy pretentions at modernity.