A few weeks ago, I blogged about an audio play that was recorded in my living room. It was no amateur jaunt though. Many of the cast had performed before, in various plays on stage and screen, and the writer is a gifted professional with several published books to her credit.

We recorded the play in two takes, directed by the writer (*) (who also took a central role, as she’s been on stage in all sorts of plays – including Jean Genet’s The Maids!) and a sound engineer, who’s a lecturer and highly skilled practitioner.

We were privileged to be in such company.

The play itself, My Beautiful Baguette, wouldn’t be out of place on Radio 4. It’s a witty warm-hearted comedy about a group of villagers who interact in a café, and who discover more than they expect when the matriarch of the group is looking for something to promote her little magazine. It’s a lovely story bubbling with fast-paced scenes, great characters and so much fun.

I thought so, anyway. But the premiere was the moment when we’d all find out how others might react. It was the first ‘try-out,’ if you like, on an audience who were sympathetic, but who knew nothing much about the play and had no real reason to do anything other than give an honest opinion.

(*) There was a co-writer, who shouldn’t be left out, who was jointly responsible for creating the characters and developing the story line. I met her on the day, and it was clear that she sparkled with wit that would have blended so well with the writer’s genius.

So, some thirty people arrived for the big reveal, and we all huddled together to listen to the play.

I’d been in it – I played Ellen, the femme fatale who owned a dress shop, who was so much fun to voice.

There were so many engaging characters. Divorcée Carol, the main protagonist who lacks self esteem but is warm and tolerant of everyone else. Her gloriously grumpy mother Maud, a matriarch who still upholds the values of World War Two, when she flew an aircraft. Eric, her dear old suitor, who has much more to him than is first thought. Her son Matt, who’s into heavy metal, and a host of charming characters, including the gorgeously funny Marcie, who tries to feng-shui the teashop.

So I knew I liked the play already, before I heard the finished version. It epitomised so many things that English radio plays should be. Whimsical, compassionate, well-written, pacy and genuinely funny.

But it wasn’t until ‘the big reveal’ that I realised how good it really was

The cast and audience sat expectantly, crammed into my dining room, and the writer introduced the play. Then we pressed the ‘start button.’

What a play!

I’ve worked with sound engineers before, and I truly believe them to be capable of magic. But what our engineer had done was nothing short of stunning. It was the culmination of so many hours of hard work, but let’s not leave it there. It takes insight, intuition and imagination to be a good sound engineer, as well as patience and resourcefulness. And our play was testimony to all of that.

From doorbells and teacups to sexy music, clandestine kissing, idling Land Rover engines, squelching mud and cows in labour, the sound effects were snappy and perfectly chosen. Our radio play was lifted from a good reading by bunch of talented pro-amateurs who were giving it our best shot to a slick and professional piece of drama, fit for any radio station.

Our genius sound engineer and our perceptive and talented director had elevated the whole thing.

Move over Ambridge and The Archers, because Focking Barton (pronounced F’b’ton) is on its way!

It was so nice to see the audience genuinely loving it. The laughter came like a volley. From situation comedy to witty repartee to brilliant one-liners. And the obligatory fart joke. And the exciting dénouement where everything ends just as it should.

Even I, who knew the play well, laughed out loud all the time at new and hilarious moments. And we applauded. How we applauded!

Then we had cake and tea. And more cake.

Huge congratulations to – I’ll name them because they should get the acclaim – Avril Silk and Ivor Richards. It’s a radio play that deserves a much wider audience.

Are you listening, Radio 4? And other radio stations? It’s a witty 45 minutes of engaging characters and uplifting humour.

If there are any further questions or genuine interest, DM me and I’ll put you in touch.

Yes, we should all go to Focking Barton.

And I hope we can all go back there again one day. What a privilege it is to spend time with such talented professionals who are also completely adorable people.