TO NOTTINGHAM

When I arrived on Friday I was very nervous about the show, the first time for ages. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was that Gill at the Lace Theatre had told me that only a few tickets had been sold. but I don’t think so. 

In 1957 I was also nervous, it was my first job in this city. My Christmas Day here was the worst I’ve ever had, I only had enough money to buy half a tin of baked beans, 10 Park Drive and two shillings for the gas fire. Remembering that on the Friday as I drank beer I tried to be positive about the show.

So in a haze of beer (£2-50 q pint! ) I had a meal in a place called Filthy. The board outside said ‘Hot Dogs like you’ve never tasted before.’

The place was a dark as night. I felt my way to the bar and ordered a beer and their special ‘Hot Dog.’. When it turned up it certainly was ‘ a hot dog like I’d never tasted before.‘ It was enormous and covered with a glutinous white concoction. I finished it and burped all the way to the hotel and slept like a log.

The day of the show arrived. I had a full English breakfast (freshly cooked). Then went out for coffee.  Time soon came to the journey to the theatre with my memory stick for the projector man. He told me that it would take about an hour for him to transfer it and get the lighting sorted.

So, of course, I went for a pint. When I eventually went to the Lace Theatre for the show everything was ready. Gill told me that well over twenty people were coming.

They’d laid a platform in front of the audience, my books were out on a table by the side, the screen was was directly behind the platform and the place behind this screen was where I was going to wait. I looked over my words that I was going  to deliver, pacing up and down, the cartoon of Mr Benn was playing and I was getting increasingly nervous.

Mr Benn was coming to the end. I stood by the door to the auditorium. The time was getting closer and closer. 

I remembered taking Sadie backstage when I was doing a West End play with Maggie Smith. I wanted to show her how tense it was waiting to go on. ‘Now‘ I whispered and went on stage. Later she said. ‘I don’t know what you were worried about. You’ve done it plenty of times before.’

My Nottingham cue came and I was on.

It went well. I made a cock up but pulled myself back on track. After they bought books and drinks for me. I was happy.

Maybe Sadie was right. ‘You’ve done it plenty times before.‘ Women are always right.

NEXT WEEK. My trip to the NEC in Birmingham for signing photos and my attempts to fix a venue in Clacton for the show.      

NOSTALGIA.

My first professional job was in Nottingham. I thought why not go back to my roots? So I’m going to appear at the Lace Theatre in Nottingham on March the 12th.

It’s a long way to go and driving is out of the question so I have the perennial problem of getting my books up there. And as I am going to give copies of my novel Echoes to any one who comes along (as long as stocks last) the logistics are giving me a headache.

I suppose the solution is to have them sent but even that is tricky. Never having attempted this route before it could be a worry. Say they don’t turn up! In this instance I’m definitely a half glass dude. Also the problem of tracking down the radio presenter who interviewed me when I did my interview about Cathy Come Home.

But I will pursue this course and keep my fingers crossed. And I hope also that evening goes well.

Wish me luck.  

Dusty and Me

Walking with my wife in Brighton, saw a poster advertising a Dusty Springfield concert coming to the Dome Theatre. Slashed across it was a CANCELLED sign.

I was a big fan of hers so I went in and enquired why it was cancelled. I was told that she’d only sold 12 tickets so the show was scrubbed. She’d cancelled it.

Five or so years later I was having a drink in the Colonnade bar next to Brighton’s Theatre Royal. It was full and there were crowds of people outside. I went outside to see what show was on. THE DUSTY SPRINGFIELD SHOW. God lord, now Dusty is dead there are people clamoring to see a double in her frocks, a wig and singing her songs . Where were all these people five years ago? Very, very sad.

I’m not dead and I’m not as famous as Dusty but we’re in the same boat. Nobody wants to come and see me. I’ve cancelled Liverpool and Lewes because of the dribble of ticket sales. She cancelled her show at The Dome. 

So I’m in good company, aren’t I? 

She didn’t want to play to bus queue of people and nor do I.

FIRE

Looking in the mirror, I have a tan and black hair. I looked 25 years younger than I did last night.

The secret? Right, first light a fire in the bedroom then go into the shower room for your ablutions. Soon the lights will go out then you’ll notice it’s very dark. You’re not wearing glasses, that would be silly when your washing yourself also you’re not wearing any clothes.

Next open the door. Even without your glasses it’s black as night. You notice a blazing fire where you’d put on halogen fire to warm the place up. 

Then you grab your dressing gown and cover the flames with it to dowse the said flames. Next you open the window to let the smoke out. On turning your dressing gown is on fire. More things are piled on. Then you hear a fire engine. Next clumping firemen running up the stairs.

See me naked. ‘Put some clothes on, sir, you must vacate the building.’

Now I’m on the fire engine with an oxygen mask on. Everything was a blur after this. I remember being in an ambulance on the way to hospital.. ‘Just to check you out, sir. You do Mr Benn, don’t you?’

Next, in the hospital, stretched out with with with wires pinioned all over my chest, a strap round my arm, checking my blood pressure, which switches on every ten minutes, blood taken out of my arm  leaving two  contraptions ‘In case you need a booster.‘ and a clip on my finger to check my heart.

Nurse. ‘Keep breathing deeply, sir, your rates down to 94.‘ I breathe deeply. ‘That’s better up to 100 now.‘

They bring me a coffee, I daren't move in case I pull one of the wires out. Three and half hours the doctor let’s me go. Outside the first thing I do is light a cigarette. I was stressed out.

Now, I’m at home in front of the mirror. Alright look much younger but was it worth it? No. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Who wants to look younger?    

THE INTERVIEW.

I’m being interviewed on Seaford radio for my show at The Lewes Little Theatre. My young PR guru didn’t spot there was a local radio in Seaford. If he had maybe I would have got a few more people in the audience for my show there.

I’m being interviewed by ex-politician Norman Baker. Now when he was a politician he must have been interviewed by all sorts of heavy weights including ‘tough guy’ Jeremy Paxman.

I met Paxman in Hamleys toy show one Christmas. We were both waiting at the Magic Counter. ‘Do you know anything about this stuff?’ he said to me. ‘Not really.’ I said. ‘But I’m sure it’ll keep the kids busy at Christmas.’  He grunted.

I don’t know if he used his Magic Set but I’ve still got ours.

I think I’ll take the magic wand when I go for my interview and if Mr Baker gets ‘tough’ I’ll just wave it and make him DISAPPEAR. ‘As if by Magic.’

BLACKPOOL

Going to Blackpool on the 24th of October with my mate Michael Jayston. Charity signings and selling a few books.

I’ve always liked Blackpool. Years ago ago I narrated a series called Cine Memo, showing old personal films from before the 19th century up until the the 30’s. Extraordinary   

footage was found. Mostly in those days it was rich people had cine cameras. Loads of families on picnics posing in front of their gleaming cars.

Wakes Week was when Blackpool was full. Factories were closed for a fortnight and they all flooded in. The film that showed them was taken from the Big Boss’s camera.

The film that touched my heart, was a film shot in 1938 of young men and girls, in the sunshine, dancing along the promenade. Glorious, happy young faces and in a couple of years, those young men would be fighting a war. How many came back?

Memories include being driven up there by Sid James, his wife, my wife and me. We were filming Taxi along the seafront. Another time was taking Tom when he was about eight up to Blackpool to see Fulham playing a match. We stayed in a dodgy B&B, had an iffy Italian  meal. Next day Tom was sick but insisted that we go and get tickets for the match. He began to feel worse and we abandoned the game and came straight home. Fulham lost 1-0.

I’m sure when I go up there on the 24th, a lot of memories will come flooding back but none so more than that flickering image of those happy, optimistic young people danciing arm in arm along the promenade in the sunshine. 

     

Luck

After an exhausting day in a V.O studio in London, I arrived in Brighton at 5.30. I made my way down to Western Road to find something to eat for dinner.

Walking ahead of me were three thirty year olds, beautifully dressed, laughing and talking excitedly in a language I couldn’t place.

I saw on my left a man in a suit and tie scrabbling around in a bin. He was about seventy, wearing a hat, he seemed like a man who had a good position in earlier years. But feeling around in this this bin for half an sandwich or a fag end, and seeing these booted and suited gigging youngsters was very disturbing. Even more so was that at distance this man looked like Barry Cryer. But, of course, Barry would be looking for class fag ends outside the Dorchester. The old tart.

Next night I go to see Barry in the The Space in London Road in Brighton. The person selling he tickets for Barry’s show hadn’t arrived yet so I shot off to the pub opposite to the theatre. Bloody hell. It was a noisy place, televisions blasting out competing with musac for the top volume slot. The beer though was excellent. The door opened and a young man came over to me.

‘Heard you were here. I’m Wayne, I interviewed you on the radio Reverb four years ago. I’ve put you on the Guest list.’

I bought him a drink.

Barry arrived at 7.30 to be told that he wasn’t on ’til 9.00. He was a bit pissed off. But when he got on he was sensational. They loved him. And the woman interviewing him was well boned up on his past achievements so it was easier for him to roar on.

After, we walked dow the road to a recommended pub followed by a few of his ‘fans’. We had a jolly time. I must say that he always seems pleased to see me.  A few rounds later we get a taxi. It’s 12.00. Drop him off at his hotel and I go on back to the flat. Scrambled eggs on toast.

But I can’t get the man and bin out of head. Me feeling aggrieved about a hard day in the studio. I suddenly realised that without these VO’s and my amazing agent Wendy Noel I would have been on my uppers now. My acting career would never have kept me afloat. So that man and me would have been both at the same bin searching for dog ends.

Yes, I’ve lucky and that poor man hasn’t been Count your blessings Ray.