|
Valerie
Barker
1940
– 2008
Eulogy
I would like to
say a few words about Val on behalf of the Playhouse Company, the theatre and
most of all, as a friend.
Val was passionate about many things, but none more than writing.
She graduated from Bristol University with a Degree in English, and then
went work in a professional theatre hoping to fulfil her creative talents.
She was frustrated by the lack of opportunity there, so returned to
Cheltenham and, since walking through the doors of the Playhouse in 1963, her
creative outpouring began with ‘Jack & The Beanstalk’ and continued for
an impressive 45 years.
Here was a
multi-talented woman whose input at the Playhouse was phenomenal.
She has been involved in over 75 shows both backstage and onstage:
set-painting, prompting, props, as an actress, singer, writer, musician, and
director.
Val brought real warmth and skill to her acting roles.
Of the many she played, I particularly remember her as Helene Hanff in
’84 Charing Cross Road’, and as the feisty Maggie in ‘Hobson’s Choice’
(one of many she performed alongside her husband, Fred). Of the musicals she played in, she had particular favourites:
Frauline Schneider in ‘Cabaret’ and Anna in ‘The Rink’.
She loved directing. There was a
childlike enthusiasm and glee about Val when she was taking rehearsals.
She first directed in 1965 with ‘Romanoff & Juliet’, and went on
to direct many more, including the impressively successful ‘Noises Off’ in
1999.
And she loved to write. She was
thrilled when some of her short plays were accepted and performed on the Radio. Amongst others for the Playhouse Company, she wrote
‘Passion & Perfidy’ and ‘Their Finest Hour’; wrote and directed
‘The Roaring Twenties’ and ‘Can’t Help Singing’.
And you wouldn’t have an Old Time Music Hall without a melodrama
written by Val
Have we now,
finally, broken the curse of the Saladin Dagger?
Val was quite a private person, a shy person, but when she had a role to play,
she knew exactly what to do, and she grasped it with energy and enthusiasm.
Val and I both joined the Playhouse Company committee at the same time in
2001. I remember one particular
committee meeting soon after she had taken on the role of Chair: she had never
been on a committee before, and wasn’t at all familiar with the protocol.
We were discussing an issue and Val told us what she had decided.
I had to point out to her that just because she was Chair doesn’t mean
she gets to make all the decisions – the rest of us are allowed to vote on
them too! She took the role
seriously and was very conscientious of the mantle she was carrying, careful to
continue the ethos of the Company founded by Joan Cross, whom she held in the
highest regard, particularly when it came to Old Time Music Hall.
Val was tremendously active. Outside
of the Playhouse, she was a teacher: she taught English in schools, and was a
supply teacher for many years. She
also taught the guitar. She was an
excellent pianist. She loved to go
sailing, to swim, and to play tennis – she was the driving force behind the
Company’s regular tennis sessions, which went on for years, only stopping a
few years ago. Anne told me about
the time Val organised a 3-day trip to watch the Davies Cup; they stayed in a
hotel, but all had to pay for single rooms – Val loved the camaraderie of
sharing experiences with her friends, but didn’t want to get so close that she
had to share a room with one of them!
When I think of Val, so many images come to mind.
She loved stimulating conversation.
I remember when the Playhouse bar used to be open late and the many
occasions a group of us would be sitting around in our usual corner, drinking
and chatting: she loved heated debates and intellectual wrangling.
There is one particular image, one that many people here will be familiar with.
We would be sitting round a table in the bar chatting, and some poor
unsuspecting fool, sitting with us, would decide to open a packet of crisps.
Within one crunch, Val’s jaw would clench, and her eyes squeeze shut
with the unbearable torture of it. She
would withstand the agony for about 5 seconds before telling the idiot to either
stop, or go and do it somewhere else!
Jigsaws: she always had one on the go on her kitchen table, and
Crosswords: I can see her sitting at her computer at home compiling crosswords
for newspapers – she was absolutely delighted when some of them were accepted
by the Telegraph and even the Times. She
must have done thousands. If not
compiling them, she would be completing them – sitting in the ‘snug’ in
the theatre bar at the beginning of the evening with the Echo on the table in
front of her. She might have looked
totally engrossed, but she was always people-watching.
She would quietly point out a particular male and female in the bar and
say “There is something going on between those two” – I could never see
it, but her instincts about people were always right.
Cycling: she cycled everywhere, and continued to cycle right to the end.
I bumped into her pushing her bike very recently after being at the
hospital for tests – in the basket were two six-packs of lager.
I said “You’re set up for the evening then!”
She very quickly put me right by saying that she was not
going to drink them all tonight – it’s just that they were buy one get
one free!
Val was an unselfish person, a warm and supportive friend, and her heart was
always in the right place. She
always spoke lovingly and proudly of her husband, Fred (who was himself a
tour-de-force at the Playhouse), and of the achievements of her son, Paul –
she was always particularly thrilled when he played the drums for the Company
shows.
I was always so
impressed with Val’s eloquence: the after-show speeches, and the reading out
of her reports at the AGMs. She
made it seem so easy.
I said I would say this in a few words – well, it’s an impossible task,
given the person I am talking about.
And Val never liked a fuss.
That’s too bad. She might not
like a fuss, but she thoroughly deserves to have one made of her today.
I would like us to raise our glasses in a toast to Val, who will be greatly
missed, but never forgotten.
To Val.
Carol Meredith
15
February 2008
| 
