In a bit of a stew

The play is nearly upon us and, as we get closer and closer, the details start to be introduced to rehearsals. Details such as the 'practical' stew in scene three. Our lovely stage manager duly went and purchased a tin of stewing steak, to be served cold with instant mashed potato. Naturally I wasn't looking forward to a stellar gastronomic experience, but even my grade of pessimism couldn't have anticipated just how bad it would be. The thick film of jelly and congealed, white fat on the top of the tin was the first clue to what I was in for, swiftly followed by the reek of cat food that rose from within. As I sat at the table in the 'canteen' and delivered my lines, I pushed it dolefully round my plate. Granted, the sudden engagement with the character was fairly useful, but at some point I was going to have to start shovelling the nauseous mess into my mouth at great speed. I did so, wishing more than anything that I was able to turn off my tastebuds, and the sight of me sitting there with tears streaming down my face as I struggled not to boak must have been too pitiful to bear, as one of my castmates promptly offered to whip up a stew and bring it in to be doled out to me each night. I don't know when I was last so grateful for anything!