Have you ever had one of those moments when you know if you tell the truth about something, it will be disastrous? You will hurt someone’s feelings, damage your career, expose an innocent person to ridicule – well, you get the picture. A thousand reasons why, often from the best of motives, you must tell a lie.
That was the essence of Lucette’s workshop. She laid out various situations, or told us to make up our own, and then asked us to illustrate how to distort, completely re-interpret or just distract from the truth. There was an unusual few minutes of almost total silence as twenty brains ticked over. Perhaps because we are a truthful lot and this was out of our comfort zone? OK, perhaps not. More that it was a difficult and challenging concept to get our heads (and pens) round, I suspect. But then the heads went down and the pens hit the pads.
On the read-back, there was the usual highly inventive variety of work. Too many to list, as always, but a sample: the Islamic teacher diverting Ofsted inspectors with his garden and radish-alisation (no, that’s not a spelling mistake!), the boastful flier whose fantasies are finally revealed when his fear of flying becomes apparent, a prison filled up with convicts who ‘murdered the music’, the hedge fund manager spiel involving Percy Thrower, a serenade to a new love endeavouring to make her tone down her ‘grunge’ look. Then there were tales involving dominatrix, kangaroos, a sacking, a political scandal, a poem about a story that was never written and a sketch involving some trade union officials. Etc, etc etc…
In fact, all the usual daft and occasionally brilliant improvisations. Thank you, Lucette, good stuff!
Next week is a reading week, the optional theme: People whose lives I cannot imagine. Knowing Shorelink, I’ll bet you can. Sally