As a birthday treat, Caroline kindly took me to a local production
of the Burial at Thebes.
We carried drinks in plastic glasses to our excellent seats
in the second row of the intimate studio theatre.
Antigone was
determined to bury her dead brother, but he had been a traitor so her uncle/
great uncle (sadly they were relations of Oedipus) threatened to execute her. Emotions
ran high.
In the intimate theatre space, things began to get a little warm.
Creon and Antigone faced off, just inches from each other. Just feet from us. Perspiration stood out on
their foreheads.
I could feel a flush coming on.
Inch by inch I removed my jacket. My chair-back put up a fight. Just as I
thought I had succeeded, I kicked over my wine glass. There was a plasticky clatter but I did my
best innocent face. It wasn’t only on
stage that great acting was happening.
Creon was condemning Antigone to death.
Things were still too warm.
I felt in my back pocket for my hair band. My seated position meant I couldn’t reach. I
squirmed in my seat as I tried to hook the hair tie. People were beginning to look.
Antigone was saying she would rather be dead than betray her
brother.
Finally I pulled the band out triumphantly and began to haul
my hair into it when it snapped and pinged into the person behind me.
Enough!
Antigone was about to be buried alive. I would just have to put up with my flush.
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