Andy Richardson: Try a little tenderness and take joy and pleasure when found
A kid no more than five was on her hands and knees. A canon had shot confetti over assorted theatre-goers at Birmingham Hippodrome in what passes for entertainment during pantomime season. The youngster, dressed as an angel, was collecting the pieces of paper so that she could throw them over the head of her beloved parents. In such moments, memories are made.
Better was to come. Matt Slack, the kingpin of West Midlands panto, somehow found himself in the audience brandishing a fire extinguisher. He wasn’t supposed to be there but odd stuff happens at this time of year. An usher was pleading with him not to set the extinguisher off, urging him to snap out of his stage persona, to stop being Muddles in Snow White for just a moment and to put the damn thing down. Slack gazed impishly, eyes spiralling as though he’d been on the good stuff. A spotlight found him and he did what all nutjob comics do: sprayed people who’d paid £35 for their seats in a layer of ugly foam. Ha. Man, that sticky extinguisher liquid does nothing for £1,000 Louis Vuitton handbags. Pity the women who’d just spent £80 on a new hairdo.
A few minutes later, when the midpoint of Slack’s panto had arrived and people were queuing for ice creams, an elderly gentleman delved into a shopping bag that lay at his feet. He produced from it a Tupperware container and proceeded to feast on jelly and cream. He was presumably remembering some far-off happy memory, probably as a child, where he’d enjoyed similar. Back then, he’d have been surrounded by family, now he was alone – and the loneliness of the elderly is a national scourge. I half-watched him throughout, wishing good things for him. And he smiled throughout the show as he was transported from a humdrum life to a place of sheer contentment. His cares were forgotten, he was happy again, surrounded by a family of theatre-goers and comforted by their warmth. He was safe in the company of strangers.
Such scenes play themselves out each year as men dress in drag, kids learn to high kick, we enjoy tales of warmth and humanity where the nice guy always wins and good defeats evil. If only real life were that good. But beyond providing entertainment, panto reminds us to be kind. It reminds us to step out of our normal lives, that there are others out there with worries or cares that are just as important – frequently more important – than ours.
The best part of the seasonal holidays this year wasn’t taking time off work – such workaholics as I enjoy being at their desk and get worried when they’re out of the office, rather than when they’re in it. Nor was it the giving or receiving of gifts – thanks for the socks, jocks and chocs everyone; same again next year, please. Rather, it was the chance to spend time with loved ones; with a family I adore, with a partner who has restored my faith in humankind and taught me that it’s safe to love, with pets who radiate love in a house that we’re fortunate to call home. It was a time where everyone could reconnect and touchdown, where people could come out from the clouds and get back on terra firma.
The finest moments of the festive season were sitting down to chat. The holidays were memorable because it was possible to engage in other people’s lives while allowing others to participate in mine. And there were plenty of laugh out loud moments, though nothing tops the discussion between a nephew and brother-in-law who dissected the finer points of washing up. Sample:
“You don’t wash up properly, you don’t wash the underside of the plate.”
“I don’t eat from the underside of the plate.”
Boom.
The best stuff is the simple stuff. It isn’t jetting off on adventurous holidays, living out creative dreams, achieving stuff that seems to define us or climbing the corporate ladder. Success is being able to hold the hand of a loved one. It’s being sufficiently open-hearted to make way for another. And it’s being able to show compassion and give a little time to those who need it most, to lend a hand to those who are suffering or need to feel the security of solid ground.
So many experience a tough old time of it. Food banks are normalised, families don’t stay together, debt is prevalent, political discourse is divisive; we have to take joy and pleasure where we find it. And yet there’s something we can all do to improve the lot of others. Otis Redding had it down when he recreated a 1932 classic: from time to time, all of us should Try A Little Tenderness.
