Hard work? Oh yes it is!

"GOOD AFTERNOON, ladies and gentlemen - this is your half hour call."

By long standing theatrical tradition, the half hour is called thirty-five minutes before curtain up.

Backstage at the Alhambra, there is no reaction to the announcement. Judging by the calm, the next performance of Peter Pan could be weeks, rather than minutes, away.

Ben Jefferson is the company manager.

"At the half, I do the rounds and check that everyone's here," he says.

Unfortunately, everyone isn't.

The dressing room occupied by the principal girl, Danielle Brown, is locked and empty.

"Interesting," says Ben, and calls her on his mobile.

"Where are you, chuck?" he asks. A pause. "It's Ben."

She is parking her car, he discovers.

He makes his way to the next dressing room. When the Alhambra was rebuilt in the Eighties, its architects acknowledged its pantomime tradition by giving the dressing rooms names like Mother Goose and Humpty Dumpty; appropriate this month, but quaint when the Birmingham Royal Ballet's in.

"Where are the other two acrobats?" asks Ben, as he does the rounds of the other rooms. "In the toilet," is the unglamorous reply.

Five minutes later, Danielle arrives, breathless. "I've 'ad a right proper dilemma, me," she announces, referring to her journey to the theatre.

Her dressing room is bedecked with flowers, her mirrors plastered with good luck cards. One is from her sister. It is signed Mel and Jim, who otherwise are known as Mr and Mrs Scary Spice.

The stars of the show are Joe Pasquale and Leslie Grantham, who have been performing this panto together for several years.

"We have a new Peter Pan this year," says Ben. "Usually it's Michaela Strachan, but this year she's doing Wizard of Oz in Reading."

Meanwhile, two near-identical productions of Peter Pan are playing at Mansfield (with Gareth Hunt) and Llandudno (someone from London's Burning).

Ten minutes before showtime, it's still quiet backstage. "It's only when something goes wrong that it's not," says Ben. From the front of house, a growing murmur from the audience suggests that at least they're getting excited.

"I love this theatre," says Ben. "There's so much room back here." He works for the panto's production company, Artist Management Group, and as such travels to venues all over the country. He's been to Bradford with three previous shows.

Five minutes to go, and Danielle is now in costume, miked for sound and applying her make-up. "I've got dirt on me 'ands," she complains to our photographer."

On stage, still hidden from the audience, the Sunbeams - the little dancers who have been an essential part of Alhambra pantomimes since the place was built - are gathering for their opening number.

This is 'Beginners' - theatre-speak for the period five minutes before curtain-up and for those performers needed in the opening scene.

"Leslie's the only one who's not a beginner," says Ben.

Behind the cast, alongside the sets which will be trucked on and off during the two-hour show, is Joe Pasquale's props table. There sits a dog's head, a big stuffed parrot, a giant turtle and a water gun. This is panto-land.

Two minutes to go and the show is running on auto-pilot - surprising, given the size and scale of the production. If this were a TV studio, the cast and director would resemble headless chickens by now.

Whether everyone would be quite as calm if they knew that the executive producer was dropping in tonight is questionable. Ben hasn't told them yet.

As Joe and Leslie arrive in the wings, someone cues the recorded "Welcome to the Alhambra" announcement. There is a drum roll and the band plays the overture.

They're on.

The cast will be doing this, usually twice a day, for the next six and a half weeks. It's routine, but to the young audiences visiting a theatre for perhaps the first time, it's pure magic.

And even though to them it's just a job, the performers never forget that.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.