Cate Gardner's Guest Blog: Costume Department

The ever-reigning Cate Gardner gets bloody everywhere, or so it seems. Most recently, onto my blog, with this latest guest post. Without further ado, I'll get out of her way, before she sets one of the Horsewomen of the Apocalypse on me...

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Thank you to Simon for allowing me to invade his blog so that I can celebrate the release of my book, Theatre of Curious Acts. I shall have to buy him a drink next time we meet.

The following is a true account of Alfred Gillespie's brief time as the sole employee of the Costume Department at the Theatre of Curious Acts. Although, as the supporting artiste ate Mr. Gillespie, we only have theatre manager Mr. Folk's word that this is a true and honest account. We must also trust that Mr. Folk didn't instruct the dragon to consume the man.

Stitching the seven-thousandth dragon scale onto the back of the puppet, Alfred wished he hadn't claimed he had a gammy leg to the fellow from the War Office. He also wished he'd heeded the man's warning, 'Liars never prosper or walk in straight lines again.' Alfred may not have had a gammy leg in 1916 but he did now.

Threading another scale, Alfred commenced sewing scale number seven-thousand and one. The dragon puppet twitched. Scales shimmered. Sometimes, Alfred thought the dragon was alive. Desperate for a pee, he put down the needle. He hadn't left backstage in… well, he couldn't recall. A knock at the door startled him and left a wet patch on his inner leg.

(Mr. Folk claims it wasn't him at the door but as he was the only one in the building at the time even he doesn't believe it wasn't him)

The dragon sniffed Alfred's leg. Alfred considered that an odd thing for a puppet to do. As the door flew open, the dragon bit Alfred Gillespie in half leaving his left arm and left leg dangling from a ragged torso. He never saw who opened the door or if in fact, anyone was there at all.

Mr. Folk and his wife are said to have identified the mostly-eaten man from the remaining portion of his nametag. That is, 'pie'.

Apart from the left arm, from the elbow to the wrist, Mr. Folk fed the rest of the man to the dragon. As they were living through times of austerity, Mr. Folk and his wife Sybil enjoyed the arm roasted with lashings of gravy.

Waste not, want not and all that rot.

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More of the Folk's dastardly doings are hidden in the shadow as the page turns of Theatre of Curious Acts, available at all good online bookstores. More information is available at www.categardner.net.