Back in the late 1970s and early 80s I was incredibly lucky.  My mum loved theatre and we spent our summer holidays in Stratford seeing every play we could in the course of a single week’s stay.  Over the years this included Michael Pennington’s Hamlet, Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V; Anton Lesser and Juliet Stephenson as Troilus and Cressida, Michael Gambon’s King Lear with a parallel performance of Edward Bond’s Lear with Bob Peck.  There were major productions at the RST and obscure plays at The Other Place.  Great ensemble casts, with Ben Kingsley, David Suchet, David Bradley, John Bowe, Jonathan Pryce and many, many more.

Each season, the RSC formed a company:  those who weren’t taking the lead parts would be seen in different roles, in different plays.  So a young, fresh faced, vulnerable, intense boy named Mark Rylance was Ariel in The Tempest, the Gravedigger’s Boy in Lear and the serving boy in Arden of Faversham (‘that young lad was very good’, said my mum);  Anthony Sher exploded onto the RST stage as the Fool in King Lear and climbed out of a piano at The Other Place in Moliere  – and was immediately invited back for the next season to take on Richard III.

 In the years that followed, even when I couldn’t get to the actual performances, I kept an eye on these actors and, for a long time afterwards, the phrase “RSC stalwart” explained just why I recognised so many talented performers on stage, tv & film.  Watching the younger actors mature was a particular privilege. It was exciting and deeply satisfying to see their careers develop and probably goes without saying that Stratford is where I first saw Alex Jennings and Simon Russell Beale perform:  I tend to be constant in my affections.   But life changes:  I grew up and left home; we lived further away from excellent theatre; baby sitters had to be involved.  Theatre- going continued but became, of necessity, more occasional.

I was reminded of all of this during six glorious hours at the Globe Theatre this summer watching Henry V in the afternoon and Richard III in the evening.  Firstly, there was the absolute privilege of seeing the wonderful, mercurial phenomenon which is Mark Rylance (mum was right).  And secondly the joy of seeing, once more, young Jamie Parker (Henry V) and Sam Barnett (Queen Elizabeth in Richard III).  Scripps and Posner in The History Boys;  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern at Chichester.   So two fantastic plays first seen, in unforgettable productions, at Stratford;  now seen – equally unforgettably -at the Globe.  And two fantastic young actors,  already commanding, thrilling performers, to keep watching in the future.    I am now as old as my mum was back in our Stratford days, so I can say, with the authority of age if nothing else, “those young lads are very good”.  And here’s to my next thirty odd years of brilliant theatre.