BERWICK Kaler found the right words for it, as the dame so often does in his scripts for the Theatre Royal pantomime.

We had just attended the funeral of Carol Morrill, receptionist at the theatre for the past 25 years. “It’s like the end of an era backstage because, bless her, she did so much for everyone that was beyond her job’s boundaries,” he said, breathing heavily in the emotion of reflecting on his memories of Carol, who died of cancer last week.

“I used to avoid the management and go straight to Carol because I knew she would know the answer.”

She did indeed. Many were the times in more than 20 years of writing Theatre Royal stories and reviews that my first port of call for instant recall of who appeared in such and such a show would be Carol. Always she would either have the detail to hand or ring back within a minute with all the requisite information, as authoritative as the late cricket scorer Bill Frindall in his facts and figures on Test Match Special. I never had the chance to say thank you, Carol, but I say it here.

If Berwick is the most public face of the Theatre Royal, then it is stalwart staff such as Carol that are its daily heartbeat, or “the life and soul of the office”, as the Rev Geoff Mumford said at the packed St Giles’s Church in Copmanthorpe yesterday morning.

It came as no surprise that the eulogy should make mention of Carol’s humour. How she loved a joke, the worst jokes in the world, jokes that featured in the pantomime programme. “Have you got time for my latest...?” she would ask at the end of each phonecall, starting it before I had the chance to say “No”. Not that I ever did. The punchlines were corny, the stuff of crackers, puns galore, shaggy dog stories, always finished with Carol’s giggling laughter.

“She was good old-fashioned showbiz,” says Berwick. “You’d come in through the stage door, and she’d be there in her office telling you a joke so filthy that you could never use it in the panto. She was one of those people that I’ll never forget and she was so professional. It was just great to go to work and know that the first person you were going to see that day would have such a smile on her face.”

Many Theatre Royal staff and actors past and present gathered at yesterday’s service, when All Things Bright And Beautiful was sung so poignantly. All had fond stories to share of Carol, who had greeted countless actors and visiting companies at the reception with a “Coo-e, petal”.

I shall remember the jokes, the anecdotes, the gossip, the familiar sight of her reading a book in a quiet corner in her lunch break – and her not-so-quiet office canary, Nelson.

God bless you, Carol. The Theatre Royal will not be the same without you.