Once a year, a gang of teenagers and a team of adults who often act like they are, take a trip to Utopia. We take over Mayhill, we run mud round Jordan's Place, we gaffa tape wooden spoons together taken from the kitchen, we learn songs on the sofas, we drop cake on the flowerbeds, we flood the bathroom. And Celia lets us. She reigns supreme over our summer fetival of chaos, she knows the details that make it run the way it does. If you are hungry, have lost your voice, ripped your costume or need to make a paper mache' baby, she knows what to do and where to find it. She was quite literally the spine of the Barnstorm body, and I don't know what we're gonna do without her. So many young people have gone into the world with something so special - they are a Barnstormer, and Celia made that happen. She was funny and scary, she was vivacious, wise and a force to be reckoned with. She could drink like a Sailor, laugh like a naughty school girl and be in complete control like a Prime Minister. There will be so many people who will forever continue the Celia traditions embedded on Mayhill, and "only two pieces of cucumber each please!" will echo round the trees. We will look after Gordan for you Celia, and the Kitchen too. And we will never ever forget you. x x xx x x x x xx x x x xx

Without Celia, I would not be doing the job I love, working in youth theatre. Celia and Gordon first welcomed me at Jordan’s Place in, I think, 1992, when Tessa asked me to do the music for the Playback production ‘Rain’. This was the first of many Playback workshop weeks based at May Hill, and I have been doing the music for Barnstorm since 1994. Sojourns at Jordan’s Place have always been full of gorgeous food, plentiful wine and loads of fun. Barnstorm has given me some of the most enjoyable and rewarding experiences of my life. No-one who has ever experienced it, child or adult, is left unchanged. The thought of Barnstorm continuing, sans Celia, seemed at first impossible, but to carry it on would be quite in keeping with Celia’s life and work. In her spectacularly no-nonsense and ‘can do’ way, she made the impossible, possible. She was a good friend, a gracious and generous host, a great, feisty laugh and a very smart cookie. Celia, you’re still the boss. Thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.

I only knew Celia for two years, and have only seen her two weeks in that two years. But Celia has always been a part of Barnstorm, and always will be. She put up with us, a load of noisy teenages, traipsing through her home three times a day for a week every year. She cooked our meals, she tidied, she helped with the miracle that is Barnstorm. I was shocked when I heard that she is gone, its hard to imagine Barnstorm without her. But this is a chance to say thank you Celia, for everthing you've ever done, and we will all miss you very much. Lola. x