I, Sulu

The technical box of a theatre is a unique sort of place. It's a place of power and a place of separation. At the push of a button, the whole world can go light or dark. Yet the finger behind the button remains somehow hidden.

The tech side of drama is not entirely unfamiliar to me, and I was there again, with more button-pressing and fader-pushing responsibilities than usual, for our recent performances of The Mourning Primrose, by the Finn-Brit Players' very own Z for Zorro, charnel doze.

Running the lights is a bit like manning the helm on the bridge of the Enterprise. The mission won't go on without the buttons being pressed, but the direction is set by a higher authority. Furthermore, there are other guys down in the engine room who do the stuff that actually makes the buttons work. Nevertheless, with a wide array of toys to play with, the experience can be a touch on the nervous side.

The Primrose crew were fortunate enough to have an excellent Scotty-style chief engineer, in the form of a former roadie called Ted, running the theatre with admirably enthusiastic discipline. We had a magnificent Kirk leading from the captain's seat, and with our theatrical context of historical swashbuckling, Trekkies will not forget that helmsman Sulu had ancient weaponry as a hobby.

Warp seven, aye sir!