This one woman play has absolutely nothing to do with cooking; its about finding your voice and saying the difficult stuff out loud as the seams of your existence slowly, but noticeably start to unpick. Sally, a woman of a certain age, reflects on her feminist roots, the juggling act that is her life and the friendships that have sustained her as she navigates relationships, motherhood and work. The example and words of previous generations should have meant that life for a working mother would get easier, but it seems that having it all means doing it all. Musing on Aristotles imitation of action and finding strength in a villanelle, she seeks solace on Friday nights with like-minded women, indulging in spectacle, song and copious amounts of sauvignon blanc. Her mic is a milk whisk and is a good one. It needs to be. Its omnidirectional, has low impedance and a flat response pattern, which makes it ideally suited to all frequencies, which is very important for Sally. Above all the background noise of her life as a single mum, she needs to be heard. But who is listening?
