” . . . In Daisy Whalley we have that much longed-for combination of an actress who really does look thirteen-going-on-fourteen at the same time as having the technical ability to do the role justice. She manages the almost impossible trick of growing up in the space of a few days, as if marriage and consummation have released some inner strength . . . The production sings with originality and leaves us in patient expectation to see what comes next from all concerned.”

Somewhere in Ireland ‘Woman’ lies dying, and the cause appears to be her own bitterness and spite. She is accompanied by the taunting figure of Scarecrow, who we come to suspect is her conscience, reminding her of all the dreams and passions that she has failed to explore in a life tied to the raising of eight children, having been abandoned by a serially unfaithful and largely absent husband. . . this is a thought-provoking and imaginative play about the regret that comes with a life only half-lived.”