In one of this season's Q/A sessions some of the "Friends" commented on the uncomfortable place the Groundlings are given at the Globe. I disagreed whole-heartily but at that time, in respect to the discussion, I avoided a spontaneous outburst. However, I could not forget it and by now - it may well be selective perception - lately even the press seems to point out repeatedly the price of the ticket versus the inconvenience of standing for three hours.

These outspoken critics seem to consider so strenuous an exercise mostly fit for tolerated tourists, unruly teenagers, and the odd amount of eccentric individuals, all of which are unwilling to pay more to buy themselves a "proper" ticket.

At another discussion between Friends of the Globe and the cast, an audience member complained about the acoustics of the Globe and described the space as "problematic". Why this person should visit exactly this theatre and above all, why he should choose to become a "Friend of the Globe", is beyond my comprehension.

It makes one wonder, who in fact is capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise.

Maybe those comments were not meant unkindly, nevertheless they are unrepresentative. I am worried that if this is the only direct feedback you receive from individuals, their voices might outweigh the anonymous cheers of your audience. Please do not draw conclusions based only on these sporadic complaints, they may be valid but they are only a fraction.

Being a Groundling at the Globe is no compromise, and this is my response, as one who thoroughly and deliberately enjoys the performances, as precisely that: a Groundling.

"Bravo, Caliban!" was said at that discussion, "Thank you for fumbling with my hat, thus rewarding me for all my efforts and all my pain for standing up for so long!" We take no pains, sir!

Bravo Caliban, indeed. Bravo, each one of you, who make this effort night after night to create the magic we both share! Thank you for communicating with us and for communicating to us Shakespeare's spirit.

We are deeply grateful for your repeated efforts, for all those nuances in your speeches, for your struggle against the routine, for finding new meaning in familiar verses, for showing Truth in each performance, for making the play appear fresh and newly-spoken, for daring to try out new approaches, for sensing and for creating the different dynamics that each individual performance requires, and with all this, to let the play live, and with it, us.

I prefer to speak of the part the Groundlings play at the Globe and not of their place in it.

There are so many devoted Groundlings who quite deliberately choose to be Groundlings, who will hear a play many, many times during a season, who will fly over from different countries especially to come to the Globe performances, who will happily stand entranced in front of the stage - even in the pouring English rain - and who will cherish every minute of it. Why, we would stand on one leg, if required!

It is a privilege to join the creation of a play, not because of raising to glory through participating in slapsticks, but through the interaction between the actors and the audience - be this communication subtle or direct. You address and embrace us through eye-contact; you acknowledge us by acknowledging our responses; you answer our empathy by letting yourself be influenced through our reactions. You open yourself up and enable our leap of faith by playing not only to us, but also with us. Getting hit by a sardine, or encouraged to antagonize Hamlet - 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished!

When you speak to us, you do not break the illusion you create, rather you open it up to include us in it. You tell and show us a story, and for us - just like children, hungry for emotional involvement even in the most familiar of stories - any remoteness would alienate us from the play. You allow us to participate in this wonderful theatre, that being round as it is, embraces both actors and audience. It is a powerful and unique intimacy. You look at us night after night, surely you must feel the love and reverence. Maybe as with religious reverence, the ones moved most deeply are the ones feasting silently.

The resonance of the Globe echoes in us long after the play is over. After the last performance of the season, we grieve the loss of that sound. And what I do know is that the plays sound right in this space.

It is exactly this round, wooden space that together with your method and diction, your spontaneity and charm, brings the beauty, wit and power of these words to life. The acoustics at the Globe are indeed special because the sound reverberates against the roundness of the wood, raising into the open air. The warmth of the space and the eloquence of your speech complement each other, and often it is the soft-spoken parts, which affect us the most. It is a space that celebrates speech. If there is noise from passing helicopters or planes, we dismiss the noise. After all, it is a question of focus, and not of absence of distractions that makes you merge with a play.

As far as the ticket price is concerned, I agree that it is a generous and noble gesture on behalf of the Globe to make these Groundling tickets easily accessible to us. But is it a question of limited financial means or of unbound enthusiasm that makes us choose the yard? Have you ever witnessed the passionate dash to the front of the stage as soon as the doors open? Have you seen the glow in those fortunate Groundlings' eyes when they reach the front of the stage? There is such a strong solidarity amongst us. We compete for space, yet we support each other. We share our water, food, rain-ponchos and thoughts; during the breaks we exchange opinions, explain complicated plot parts, point out details we observed; we discuss, we criticize, we enthuse, we arrange future visits to performances together, we stay in touch.

Especially as Groundlings at the Globe, we are aware of each other throughout the entire play, and it is this proximity that allows us to respond together in a very open way. We can immediately share an emotional response with the person standing next to us. We are able to confirm through eye contact our delight, our exasperation, our pain. We enjoy the plays together because essentially we are of the same mind. We do not feel like strangers - we stand squashed but we stand together. It is not only the play but also your fellow audience members that make you feel part of something greater. For a couple of hours, a crowd becomes a community.

There are many of us devotee Groundlings who choose to stand in front of the stage because we feel that this is the best way to experience the play. To give back, through silence, noise, motion, stillness, through our presence and through our love. It is a rare pleasure to experience the Globe's special energy - once tasted, there is no substitute ? for it makes hungry where most it satisfies.

Sincerely

Anna Moraitis