Making Something Beautiful from Old Curtains

Last night, I had the great pleasure of being at the New Theatre Oxford with Mark for OXOPS’s production of The Sound of Music – and what a thoroughly uplifting evening it was.

This is one of those shows that sits deep in the national psyche. Most of us think we know it before the overture even begins: the songs, the story beats, the moments that feel almost hard-wired into our memory. And yet, as the evening unfolded, Mark and I kept catching each other’s eye and quietly mouthing the words – not because the production leaned on nostalgia, but because it invited us in so completely. It felt familiar in the best possible way.

What OXOPS delivered was fresh, confident and full of heart – a production that trusted the material while bringing real warmth and humanity to it.

As High Sheriff of Oxfordshire, I am fortunate to spend much of my year seeing the county at its best. Often that best is found not in grand gestures, but in collective endeavour: people giving their time, talent and energy to create something bigger than themselves. Amateur theatre, at its finest, does exactly that. It draws together people of different ages and backgrounds, asks a great deal of them, and then gives something generous back to the wider community.

What struck me throughout the evening was the evident care. Care in the performances, care in the music, care in the storytelling, and care behind the scenes. Nothing felt rushed or taken for granted. Instead, there was discipline, joy and a shared sense of responsibility to the audience. That combination is never accidental; it is the product of hours of rehearsal, mutual trust and a quiet determination to do things properly.

And then, of course, there are the old curtains.

I grew up firmly believing that with enough optimism, needlework and ingenuity, you could run up just about anything from a pair of old curtains – including, apparently, a perfectly respectable suit. It is one of The Sound of Music’s most enduring metaphors: making something beautiful from what you have to hand, refusing to be limited by circumstance, and allowing creativity to be an act of quiet defiance.

That spirit felt entirely present on stage last night. Not just in the costumes or the set, but in the very act of putting on a production of this scale and quality. It reminded me that creativity is rarely about abundance. More often, it is about resourcefulness, collaboration and belief.

There was also something quietly wonderful about experiencing this story together, in a packed theatre. Live theatre remains one of the few spaces where we sit, collectively, without distraction, and allow ourselves to be moved. In a world that can feel hurried and fragmented, that shared stillness matters. It builds connection. It reminds us of our common ground.

So my thanks – and congratulations – to the entire OXOPS company: cast, musicians, creatives, technicians, volunteers, and all those whose work happens out of sight. You gave us an evening that was joyful, generous and deeply human.

As High Sheriff, and as someone who spent much of the night grinning at Mark and silently singing along, I left the theatre not only entertained, but quietly heartened. And that, in truth, is a rather wonderful thing.