Although Hilary Everard has been a stalwart of Harborne's Moorpool Players for nearly 25 years, audience members have had to be alert to spot her on stage.
She has dedicated herself by choice, either to work behind the scenes or to front-of-house responsibilities.
To such good effect, in fact that she has been on stage only twice - when she has either been seen and not heard or heard and not seen.
She was once fleetingly glimpsed as a psychotic accompanied by an axe in a suitcase, in One o'clock from the House; and she was a seriously ill hospital patient in Keeping Mum, when only her hand was visible.
Apart from this, she has also provided the essential service known as Voices Off.
But I hear that all this is about to change. She is due to appear as Mrs Woods in Just a Little Word, by Enid Coles - part of the Players' Triple Bill, which opens at Moorpool Hall, Harborne, on Wednesday next week.
She is not only on stage throughout the play, she actually has three lines, each comprising one word.
She is looking forward to the challenge because she says it's better late than never - although she insists that she was grossly misled by director John Healey, who she says assured her that her duties were non-speaking.
* Is it time to despair for the future of theatre's Shakespearian heritage?
I ask, in the wake of discovering that a publisher is pushing out teen-speak versions of the Bard's great works, accompanied by cartoons, to make them easier to understand for those whose favoured language is txt or grunt.
The intention is to make sure that no work is actually demanded of examination students in their "study" of Shakespeare.
Lady Macbeth has no need of poetical rhythms to chide her husband when he cannot face the thought of killing Duncan. What she says, for the benefit of our new age English students, is, "Cowardy custard!"
Macbeth no longer asks if this is a dagger he sees before him. What he says in the new authorised bastardised version is, "Oooh! Would you look at that!"
There's also occasion for Juliet to tell Romeo, "Wow! Give us a snog, then."
This nonsense has already attracted the helpful suggestion that Henry V need no longer prattle on about the ramparts and our English dead, when he just needs to say, "Ere we go, ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go."
What is even more frightening is the discovery that more than 126,000 copies of this sort of thing were sold last year, either direct to schools or through shops - presumably to be inflicted even on those youngsters who are too intelligent to want it. As usual, the intelligent are up against the law of the lowest common denominator.
Will it be altogether a surprise when theatre schools discover that aspiring future professionals do not have a hope of getting to grips with the glories of Shakespeare?
* Now here's a World Cup omen.
Forty years ago, the last time that England lifted the trophy, Frank Bench directed the Swan Theatre Company - as it was then called - in Uncle Vanya. And the group - now the Swan Theatre Amateur Company - launches Uncle Vanya again on June 27, with Frank Bench, now in his eighties but still passionate about the play, again at the helm.
That's the last day of the second round, in which England hopes to have been involved the previous day as winner of Group B.
Rest assured, we'll be keeping a close Chekhov. . .
Meanwhile, Frank continues to drive to rehearsals, accompanied by his wife Betty, two or three times a week from Cheltenham to Worcester. Amateur theatre is full of unsung heroes (and heroines!)
* Mary Salmon, the last survivor of the five women who founded Lapworth Players in 1968, will step down as the group's president at its annual meeting tonight.
She will be succeeded by Bryan Lewis.
The Players' chairman Sue Hunt is also calling it a day - and has said she is prepared to take over the secretaryship from Sheila Burdett, who is moving from Lapworth. Vice-chairman Richard Middleton will take her place.
* From time to time, I see actors who have the speech problem with which television's perkily unpredictable Jonathan Ross is afflicted. But it is only now that I have learned that it is called rhotacism - which means that Ross (Wossy to his intimates) and his fellow-sufferers can't say it.
I find this particularly interesting - because people who lisp can't say lisp, dyslexics can't spell dyslexia and those who habitually speak with the glottal stop (a bi' o' be'er bu'er) can't say glottal.
* There was just one slight hiccup in the programme of The Nonentities' production of Blithe Spirit at the Rose Theatre, Kidderminster, which ended on Saturday.
It managed to misspell Blithe without its E in very large letters at the top of page two.