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Au Revoir, Jo.
Feb. 18th, 2005 10:46 pmWednesday was Jo Stone's funeral. But actually it wasn't really a funeral - it was much more a celebration of her life and - although heart-rending - it was a lovely, glorious day.
She had planned it all herself - and planned it as her Last Great Production - complete with running order, entry and exit music, cast and script. Bob Dilkes opened with a lovely story about visiting Jo to get "the script". Although she was quite ill, she presented him with a sheaf of papers and detailed instructions. He expressed surprise that she hadn't asked him to do anything specific during the service: "Darling," she said, "You can operate the follow-spot." :-)
It is impossible to describe the service - I was too full of emotion to remember it, so this entry is really just a series of impressions and snatches of what happened.
An order of service with a photo of Jo taken recently (I couldn't look at it without wanting to cry) - and another photo of her on the back cover as Madame Arcati. Somewhere in the middle drawings by her grandchildren of "Nana with the Angels"...
A speech from Mike Dyer, a colleague of Jo's at Welling School as well as an actor and director - talking about the transformation she wrought in the school by building the drama department and using improvisation to engage the kids who weren't able to deal with scripts. Her introduction of Drama Workshops for the staff, as a way of helping them deal with the stresses of teaching - this was actually where I first met Jo, 32 years or so ago. It was held at Rose Bruford drama college in the evenings, and she would improvise her way to short plays for drama festivals. My first production with her was "Medea" followed by "Crime and Punishment".
A speech from Bill Morley - a stalwart of Bromley Little Theatre - filled with such tenderness, wry humour and love that it made your heart break.
Tributes from her daughters, Debbie and Penny, her son-in-law and her grandchildren that made me weep...
Singing Jerusalem. The first verse was fine - the second verse I stared hard at the order of service through my tears.
Her exit music was - almost inevitably - the music she used to end Hamlet with - L'Homme Armee. We stood in silence as it played through. Then listened to it again as her coffin was carried from the church. In Hamlet, I had the last lines of the play, as we carried the body of the Prince in procession around the stage onto the bier "Good night, sweet Prince - may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!". The temptation to call them out as the music played as Jo's coffin was carried out was almost too much to bear.
We gathered outside the church as her coffin was loaded into the glass-sided carriage pulled by four black horses with plumes. The coffin was a great affair of black lacquer - gold handles and red roses.
As the hearse pulled away to the family only service at the crematorium, two hundred of Jo's friends cheered her departure. She must have been very proud. She was much loved.
She had planned it all herself - and planned it as her Last Great Production - complete with running order, entry and exit music, cast and script. Bob Dilkes opened with a lovely story about visiting Jo to get "the script". Although she was quite ill, she presented him with a sheaf of papers and detailed instructions. He expressed surprise that she hadn't asked him to do anything specific during the service: "Darling," she said, "You can operate the follow-spot." :-)
It is impossible to describe the service - I was too full of emotion to remember it, so this entry is really just a series of impressions and snatches of what happened.
An order of service with a photo of Jo taken recently (I couldn't look at it without wanting to cry) - and another photo of her on the back cover as Madame Arcati. Somewhere in the middle drawings by her grandchildren of "Nana with the Angels"...
A speech from Mike Dyer, a colleague of Jo's at Welling School as well as an actor and director - talking about the transformation she wrought in the school by building the drama department and using improvisation to engage the kids who weren't able to deal with scripts. Her introduction of Drama Workshops for the staff, as a way of helping them deal with the stresses of teaching - this was actually where I first met Jo, 32 years or so ago. It was held at Rose Bruford drama college in the evenings, and she would improvise her way to short plays for drama festivals. My first production with her was "Medea" followed by "Crime and Punishment".
A speech from Bill Morley - a stalwart of Bromley Little Theatre - filled with such tenderness, wry humour and love that it made your heart break.
Tributes from her daughters, Debbie and Penny, her son-in-law and her grandchildren that made me weep...
Singing Jerusalem. The first verse was fine - the second verse I stared hard at the order of service through my tears.
Her exit music was - almost inevitably - the music she used to end Hamlet with - L'Homme Armee. We stood in silence as it played through. Then listened to it again as her coffin was carried from the church. In Hamlet, I had the last lines of the play, as we carried the body of the Prince in procession around the stage onto the bier "Good night, sweet Prince - may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!". The temptation to call them out as the music played as Jo's coffin was carried out was almost too much to bear.
We gathered outside the church as her coffin was loaded into the glass-sided carriage pulled by four black horses with plumes. The coffin was a great affair of black lacquer - gold handles and red roses.
As the hearse pulled away to the family only service at the crematorium, two hundred of Jo's friends cheered her departure. She must have been very proud. She was much loved.
