History of the trust
The first production of the Falmouth Opera Group was of Gluck’s Orpheus in 1923 but in the early twenties Maisie and Evelyn had been busy taking a programme of ‘Songs and Dances of Many Lands’ with the Roseland Concert Party around the county. It is worth noting that their enthusiasm for dance is remembered by all the families of the tiny parish of St Anthony who, every Christmas would gather for a party in the Studio at Coastguards where the main event was the dancing of a Swedish line dance. In Musical
Adventures they recall ‘These were happy days. Released from our war jobs, happy to be home, happy to be creating something for sheer love of it, happy in our laughter and adventure and companionship. The Log of the Roseland company, to which we all contributed in our odd moments, gives best our carefree mood. Many of its pages would have no interest for anyone outside the magic circle, but a few extracts may give some idea of gaity and laughter shared.
It is copiously illustrated with pencil drawings and snapshots recording incidents of the tour, and frequently breaks into verse. A drawing of a determined figure of the Business Manager (Evelyn) thudding on a large doorknocker on the door of the closed village shop, with a small horrified figure of a clergyman behind her holding up his hands in protest lest she might offend his parishioners, chronicles one of the only occasions 
when the pianist struck at performing on the dilapidated and discordant instrument offered her and scoured the village for a 
substitute. An enormous disembodied arm clapped over the mouth of a male singer and entitled ‘Signor Caruso begins his 40th attempt to sing his well known tarantella,’ represents the endless repetition of a particular phrase in a gramophone record for the sake of the dancers at rehearsal – one of the few occasions when our patient pianist had a mechanical stand-in. ‘The J.P.(Jeunne Premier) is left with 4 beers and the baggage’ illustrates the scene in a refreshment room when, having piled up our suitcases, violin music, sidedrum and the rest, and ordered drinks, the party suddenly realised the 
train was going and made a bolt for it, leaving him stranded.
These were the days before radio had reached the countryside and a programme such as ours might well have seemed strange to our village audiences. ‘Never seen anything like it,’ was counterbalanced
by an old man’s comment, ‘We must have they again.’ “ Of course when you first came to play to us it was all strange. We wouldn’t know if ‘twas limpets or winkles” commented a farmer’s wife some years later. “But we liked it and now of course we know more about it.” We found more difficulty with the so-called educated few, the ‘elity’ as they were 
sometimes called in the village with a half smile…Even more trying were the well meaning chairmen who constantly compared the grace and dignity of the old dances to, “this vulgar modern dancing” – quite enough to put any audience off, especially the little knot of young people at the back of the hall.”