The Mr Rochester Principle
I received my first copy of Jane Eyre when I was 10.
I opened it and read the beginning:
“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.”
I’d like to say that, from then on, I was hooked.
But I’d be lying.
I didn’t get much further than the first page, although I was proud to have the book on my shelf.
When I was about 13, I took the book down and dusted it off.
I opened it and, this time, read right through to the closing line.
And I loved it.
I’ve read it many times since.
Fast forward to Surprise Day.
Arriving at The Surprise venue it was, appropriately, raining. (If you don’t know why I think it appropriate that we had rain at the start, read Jane Eyre.)
Heads down, hurrying through the rain, there was no possibility of my parents and I taking a walk that day, either.
We could definitely sit though.
In a theatre.
The best seats in the theatre, no less.
The Surprise was tickets at the opening night of Jane Eyre – The Ballet.
Best. Surprise. Ever.
But why was it such a good surprise?
I am not one of those people who began taking dancing lessons at the age of minus 1.
I didn’t pirouette out of my mother’s womb.
In fact, apart from a brief desire to take ballet lessons when I was 6 – because everyone else was – I had no interest in ballet.
I loved going to the theatre, but not to see a ballet.
Plays, musicals and concerts were more my thing.
Much more.
I went fairly regularly.
Then I didn’t go at all.
For years.
Because I’d lost my hearing.
Eventually, after many theatre-less years, someone suggested I go and see a ballet.
I rejected the idea.
I didn’t even like ballet.
So I sat at home.
Not going to the theatre.
I couldn’t go as I wanted to – hearing what went on – so I wouldn’t go at all.
As the saying goes, I was ‘cutting off my nose to spite my face.’
But that was fine with me.
Then one day, a friend had a spare ticket to the ballet.
Simultaneously, my nose decided that it didn’t like being cut off.
So, between my friend and my nose, I was persuaded.
Just before Christmas that year, I went to see The Nutcracker.
To be honest, I didn’t really follow it very well.
But I was back sitting on a red velvet seat in a theatre.
And it felt great.
Not the same as before.
Before, there had not been a ballet shoe in sight.
But before wasn’t coming back.
Now was here, though.
And now gave me two choices.
Concentrate on what used to be.
Or focus on what is.
I went for the latter.
Concerts are what used to be.
And yes, I miss them.
But ballet is what is.
I don’t need to hear it.
And, you know what?
‘Is’ is surprisingly ok.
I’ll never be a ballet expert.
But I am someone who has learned to enjoy it.
And that’s why a ticket to the ballet was the Best Surprise Ever.
It recognised who I am now.
Yet at the same time linked it with part of my past that still is.
The ‘My name is Emily and I am a bookworm’ part.
In Jane Eyre, one of the characters, Mr Rochester, loses his sight.
Jane asks him, “Can you see me?”
“No: but I am only too thankful to hear you.”
The Mr Rochester Principle.
It’s a good one….