YOGA: With Natalie Heath every Tuesday from 6pm to 7pm in the Civic Centre. Contact Natalie Heath email: firstname.lastname@example.org phone: 07738538094.
SENIOR TEA CLUB: The Deans Senior Tea Club meet every Tuesday from 10.30am to 12.30pm in the Civic Centre. Come along for tea, coffee, cakes and a chat. It’s free, but donations are always welcome.
LIVING LIGHT PILATES: Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning in the Civic Centre. £6.50 per class or class pass for £44 (eight classes plus one free session). Contact Nicola Murray-Smith email: email@example.com phone: 07776 457752.
FITNESS PILATES: Every Monday morning and Thursday evening in the Civic Centre. Get fit, tone up, prevent back pain, improve flexibility and posture. Equipment provided, just bring some water. Only £6 per class or £40 for eight weeks. Contact Jennie Palmer email: firstname.lastname@example.org phone: 07825 702775.
FLOWER CLUB: Peacehaven and Telscombe Flower Club have monthly meetings on the third Wednesday of each month, 2pm for 2.30pm start in the Civic Centre. Floral demonstrations. Contact Christine Webb email: email@example.com phone: 01273 586191.
YOGA: Every Monday from 7.15pm to 8.15pm in the Civic Centre. Contact Jane email: firstname.lastname@example.org phone: 07703 167895.
DANCE CLASS: Little Stars Pre-School Dance Class for pre-school children aged 2 to 4 years, every Tuesday 9am to 9.30am at the Civic Centre. £3.50 per session. Contact Anneli Smith 07930 490058.
CELEBRATION: Mayor’s Celebration Evening. The Mayor, Cllr Daryll Brindley, invites you to his end of term informal celebration evening at the Civic Centre tomorrow, Saturday, at 7.30pm. Live music will feature the ever popular Mayor’s Misfits, Brian Page and Tim Secrett (last seen here at the Queen’s 90th birthday event in 2016). A tasty buffet will be provided and a pay bar with tickets at just £8 per person. Fancy dress as a celebrity is optional. Ring 01273 589777 or go to the Civic Centre reception to buy tickets.
FOOTNOTES: Ah, the clocks have gone forward an hour, daylight hours are getting longer and some days the sun is with us until early evening. ‘All thought up by the builder, William Willett’, I remarked to Chaplin, conversationally one evening as we enjoyed the sun that still lanced across the back lawn as the radio announced it was seven o’clock. ‘In May 1916, although he never lived to see it.’ Chaplin was totally unmoved by this piece of social history. In my dark and distant past, performing in weekly repertory, before the TV had taken off and holidays were spent in the UK, and not in the far flung sun- soaked beaches of Europe and beyond, we welcomed rainy days and gloomy evenings, knowing that the average landladies hated their boarders staying in of an evening, which meant they were forced to head either for the local cinema, or to our theatre. So, it was not unusual to play to houses packed with customers, quietly steaming in their wet clothes. It did have some disadvantages. In one end- of- the- pier theatre, we had to raise our voices to be heard above the drumming of rain on the metal roof, and I can remember getting slight vertigo, as I glanced down one evening to see an oily black sea moving gently between the gaps in the stage flooring. My mercifully few forays into open air theatre, invariable meant donning still damp costumes from the previous evening’s downpour and trying to cope with soaking wet grass in stage shoes, that had no grip, and consequently behaved like ice skates on the muddy earth. Unlike amateur companies, who could simply pack it in when the rain got too heavy, professionals are supposed to carry on regardless. Bounding out onto a slippery, muddy patch, with rain pouring down and uttering, ‘Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York’, into the teeth of a force ten gale, and in front of a few diehard audience members, huddling under umbrellas, needs to be experienced to be believed. The Minack Theatre, which is cut into a rocky outcrop above a gully in Porthcurno, near Lands End, and overlooking the sea, was the only time I could see the point of open air theatre. In the role of Ariel in The Tempest, with the sound of the sea crashing on the rocks below, it was a really magical experience, far superior to the film I made of it later. Otherwise, I was grateful to the souls who first had the idea of housing theatres in solid buildings with roofs. The sun had now lengthened into shadows and almost disappeared, the final few paragraphs of a short story awaited me, so Chaplin and I returned indoors, and to quote Thomas Grey, ‘left the world to darkness’. Have a good week and go safely wherever your journeys may take you.