From my earliest days I was fascinated by dressing up. Often, as I played in the gardens and woods around 'Oaklands', by means of odd bits of clothing, borrowed hats, and sundry props, I was Jim Hawkins, a Wise Man or the leader of a spy ring-whatever the whim of the moment demanded. I was a lonely figure, but the realm of my imagination was packed with heroes and rogues, all of whom became my daily companions.

I remember, on the occasion of the coronation of George V and Queen Mary, the pageantry as depicted in the pages of the Illustrated London News fired the tinder of my fertile mind. When autumn came, I recall vividly how I made myself a herald's surcoat of conkers in what must have been an ingenious way, because it was a huge success. I stalked through the woods leading an imaginary procession of kings, dukes, earls and foreign potentates.

When I started producing, I hankered after lavish period costumes rich with braid and made of sumptuous velvets and brocades. Motley's magnificent costumes and décor for Gielgud's production of Romeo and Juliet stunned me. Our drab welfare state has given the people a dreary utilitarian outlook. Pageantry and ceremony have been eclipsed and our lives are all the duller for it. Our young people yearn for colourful costumes and unusual styles. And why not, provided cleanliness is observed?

As I began to produce plays in school, my wife and I found ourselves designing and adapting costumes, using the most unlikely materials. We made armour, surcoats, headgear and accessories. The results were surprisingly successful. The boys wearing these bizarre and colourful creations experienced an exhilaration which caused them to grow as we watched them. They were stimulated and benefited enormously.

Our lack of money strangled at birth my ideas of lavish costumes. The shows were planned so we could use easily contrived costumes. We added a few from our school wardrobe. The parents were co-operative, but I realised that if my dreams of exotic costumes were to materialise, then a fair amount of any money we made would have to be diverted to the Wardrobe. Once we could establish a nucleus of good costumes we would add to the stock bit by bit until we would achieve my aim.

After we had been going about three years, a parent called to see me. She was Mrs Hilda Donigan, a genial rosy-faced woman with the most beautiful blue eyes. In them shone a smile of such kindliness as is seldom seen and a piquant Irish humour. Her younger son was our comedy lead, one of the most brilliant natural comics I have ever seen. Mrs Donigan had been to see our shows, and felt we deserved better costumes. She told me she was a dressmaker and offered to take charge of our Wardrobe. I accepted the offer with alacrity, and thus began one of the happiest associations we have had in the Theatre. Hilda was not only our Wardrobe Mistress, but also our loyal and trusted friend. Never once did I see her angry. In the midst of the chaos of making seventy costumes for The Gondoliers, or swamped by the intricacies of a Shakespearean production, her smile, her wit and her perpetual good nature were an example to us all. For fifteen years she was in charge of our Costume Department, and then came tragedy. She was out shopping, preparing for the christening of her youngest grandchild, when she was knocked down by a speed-merchant, and died a few hours later. I do not believe in stressing the sadness of life to the young. Nevertheless we cannot dodge sorrow; It just has to be faced. I never witnessed a more poignant scene than Hilda's funeral. Many of our young members were there/ carrying pathetic little posies, which they reverently placed by the graveside. Their tears testified to the love they had for their friend.

Hilda's memory is kept alive by the presentation each year of the Hilda Donigan Shield. It is presented at the end of each season to the girl who has given the outstanding performance of the year. The winner holds it for one year. Hilda's passing left us stunned. We did not know where to look for her successor. As we sat wondering what to do, we remembered how Hilda's scissors would flash as she chatted and laughed with us. The electric sewing machine would whirr, and as we talked, in a matter of minutes, another dress would be added to the pile waiting for someone to put the buttons on.

Then, once again, help appeared out of the blue. My phone rang. It was Mrs Veale, Betty to us. She had helped on the Wardrobe Committee for a time but family duties had compelled her to resign. She now offered to take over Hilda's job. She has proved a gem. With her group of helpers she does a magnificent job.

Over the years we have amassed a truly amazing set of costumes. When it is all in the cupboards and on the racks, we could number something in the region of fifteen hundred costumes, or maybe more. Only very occasionally have we had to higher a costume. The other autumn when we did Twelfth Night the only thing we hired was Sir Andrew Aguecheek's wig.

Following my broadcast of July, 1964, we received some very welcome additions to our Wardrobe. One lady who had been a missionary in Durban sent us a magnificent shawl. Another, over eighty years of age, sent us her wedding dress. It is a beautiful white satin dress, entirely made and embroidered by hand. We took a photograph of one of our girls wearing it and sent a print to the donor. We were thrilled by the interest and generosity of these unknown friends.

When we have decided to do a costume play, I have several meetings with the Wardrobe Department. Books are taken out of the library and pored over. Photographs and drawings are closely scrutinised. Sketches are made, colours and designs are decided upon, and the Wardrobe personnel are set to work.

Accessories such as purses, handbags, articles of jewellery and even gloves may have to be made. These things are most important as they enhance the effect of the costumes.

The members of our Wardrobe Department are clever at adapting existing costumes. This is useful, and saves us money. The co-opertive effort involved is the most valuable angle of our work. All who help look at the finished production and feel they had a hand in it, which has a beneficial effect on an individual.

When we have finally decided on the costume scheme, the cast is measured and fitted. As a costume is finished, the person who has to wear it is carefully fitted again, and any alterations necessary are made.

Many groups fight shy of costume plays on the score of expense, or the difficulty of making the costumes. It has been my experience that most of the things I have wished to do in my life have been either expensive or difficult. Frequently both. Because of the difficulty I have been all the more determined to do them. Often under pressure my inventive faculties have been stimulated, and the results have been amazing and exhilarating. We should tackle things and not stand aside and moan 'It can't be done.' Life without challenge would be savourless.

In musicals and Shakespearean productions we usually call a specific 'Dress' rehearsal. We can, on such occasion, leisurely and carefully check costume details. The cast has an opportunity to wear the dresses and get the feel of them. It is essential that a period costume is well and truly 'worn'. To do this adds to the standard of the performance and the actor is more comfortable on the stage.

The purchase of the material for our Wardrobe has always been an expensive item on our budget. Perhaps from an oversensitive pride, we have done little in the way of asking for donations of material. However, when we were preparing Richard III, I wrote to three of the largest Manchester firms, explaining who and what we were. I politely asked if they would be willing to donate any scraps of material. I was most gratified when we received pleasant letters from each firm together with some pieces of very beautiful material. They were a generous size and with attractive colours and designs. Some of the clubs and groups of people to whom I have lectured about the Theatre have also given us material which has been of great use to us.

When Mrs Donigan was in charge of the Wardrobe we started a Hire Service. This we did for two reasons. We wished to help struggling societies, and in the process hoped to make a little money. We have built up a clientele of satisfied customers since the scheme was introduced. For a time we were willing to loan them to any school in our district any costumes we could supply, free of charge, if they would guarantee to bring a party of at least twenty to the next production. Such is the frailty of human nature that we found the promises were made, but after a time they were not very well kept, so we had to withdraw the offer. We were a little sad about this because we really tried to be helpful. On one occasion a school wanted to borrow some costumes, but said they did not think they could raise a party to see the show. We suggested they took the costumes and send us a donation. They took about twenty costumes. At the end of nine weeks we rang up and pointed out that other schools were wanting the same costumes. To get our goods we had to send one of the Committee with his car to collect them, and the Head sent a letter containing a donation-half a crown.

After many and varied experiences equally surprising, we decided to make a specific charge for each costume. We fixed on five shillings per costume. This modest sum has meant we have helped groups, and at the same time brought a smile to the face of our Treasurer.