Oh yes it is...
This year Cinders, a variant of Cinderella where the ugly sister hooked the prince and Bea played a fairy Godmother.
It was as usual a mixture of scripted and improvised joy. The improvisation came in the form of the boy who sang with so much enthusiasm I missed at least 40% of the show just watching him, the girl who delivered her lines with such distain I imagined her as a 40 something has-been smoking fags in the wings and complaining that she'd trained for 7 years, for this, and my own prima donna overacting with a look of pure delight on her face that told me she was in her element.
The school Christmas play. Pleasure and pain rolled into one.
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