If you've ever seen the film Six Degrees of Separation you'll know the theory that suggests pretty much everyone in the world can loosely be connected in just six steps.

The 1930s song lyrics, "I've danced with a man, who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales" demonstrates the same principle in three stages.

A couple of years ago, a popular after-dinner party game called Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon was doing the rounds.

The basic rules of the game relied on the fact that you could more or less link anyone in any film back to Kevin Bacon, largely because the ginger actor had appeared in so many movies and with so many up-and-coming stars, without quite ever making it into the big league himself.

My own claim to fame in the world of thespian connectivity is that I can probably claim two degrees of separation with the cream of Hollywood's elite.

This is mainly because 16 years ago I was a member of the Croxley Wood House Theatre Club, where a very young Paul Bettany, now one of Britain's and Hollywood's most unique and distinctive actors, was a fellow member of the company.

If you saw the film version of The Da Vinci Code you'll have seen him as Silas, the mad albino monk.

Having played Hermia to Paul's Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream, following this up with Cecily to Paul's Algernon in The Importance of Being Earnest, I can probably safely say that these days I can easily link myself to the ubiquitous Kevin Bacon within three stages.

I was reminded of my minor brush with major fame last week when reading Pat Bramley's property column in the Watford Observer, reporting on the sale of Croxley Wood House.

Twenty or so years ago, this was where businessman Nigel Parmenter had the inspired idea of creating an open-air theatre in his garden, a venue where a variety of people gathered to stage a mixture of classic and more eclectic productions.

Many of those involved were actually professionals - West End actors and choreographers. Others, like me, were fascinated amateurs.

As I remember, Paul Bettany - clearly a star in the making and the pin up boy of the Midsummer Night's Dream teenage fairy troupe - was just about to go off to drama school.

Nigel Parmenter's passion, energy and vision was infectious. He and his wife Diane devoted weeks and sometimes months to these ambitious and challenging productions - many of which, as a mark of their quality, transferred to the Minack open-air theatre in Cornwall.

Over the years, the Croxley Wood House Theatre Club raised £40,000 for charity, which was in itself no mean feat, but I think Nigel's greatest achievement was to bring a little mad, magical and very English passion to a corner of Croxley Green.

I remember one August evening, during the run of A Midsummer Night's Dream, when torrential rains and howling wind threatened to turn our enchanted Athenian forest into a quagmire. It was like The Tempest out there.

Forgetting all theatrical finesse, we actors hurled our lines out into the storm, desperately trying to be heard above the tumult. Even worse, we were hardly able to move through the mud bath that used to be the stage. My long, pale satin court costume was soaked through up to waist level.

So much for the glamour of the theatre. Far from appearing as an alluring Shakespearean princess, I looked more like the creature from the black lagoon. Eventually it became clear that we couldn't go on.

Nigel squelched to the footlights and halted the proceedings. He told the audience that he quite understood if they all wanted to go home, but suggested that if they waited half an hour or so and the rains stopped then the play would go on.

Incredibly, not one person left and within 30 minutes and a break in the clouds we were all back on set.

The strange thing is that today, years later, several of my friends who loyally came along to support that water-logged production still speak of it as one of their most memorable and enchanting theatrical experiences.

I think that says as much for the magic of Nigel Parmenter as the magic of William Shakespeare.

From last week's WO I learn that they are now planning to move on from Croxley Green to France or Scotland.

Wherever they go I wish them the very best.And if they ever decide to open a theatre again I'd just like to let them know that I'm now ripe for the role of Madame Arcati.

While on the subject of things theatrical, it has been interesting to follow the debate on the Palace Theatre Watford that has appeared in the WO's letters pages over the last couple of weeks.

As a huge fan (and former usherette) of the Palace, it pains me to say that I think several correspondents have a valid point. While it is absolutely right for our local theatre to present a programme that appeals to the diverse audience of Watford, this should not take place at the cost of its traditional core supporters, who, I suspect, now feel alienated from their own theatre.

I know this is true of my father who was such a keen supporter of the Palace Theatre that he sponsored a seat in the new-look auditorium in memory of my mum.

Now I can't remember the last time he went.

Surely a programme of plays that features at least a couple of classic crowd-pleasers (both in terms of author and actors) would be sensible. There's no reason why the Palace should not tackle new or socially challenging work, but one experimental' production a season is probably enough.

To quote WO correspondent Susan Barnes, people are "voting with their feet".

Wouldn't it be better if they were voting with their hands and clapping loudly from the stalls?

Incidentally, when I was at university I appeared in a student production of the Palace's current, brilliant, play Top Girls. I was Pope Joan, but don't let that put you off.)