I had a meeting today in town - not exactly an audition, more a discussion about a possible project - and the text under consideration is "Still Life" by Noel Coward. And it's sort of polite to read it before you go, I find. Now, I have three Coward collections and several single plays, but with tedious inevitability I find I don't have this one.
Since, though, I live in a village with a very active amdram group (apparently - I mean I don't go or anything, darling...) I call a friend who recommends another friend who may have it. So I shoot round and ring his bell and the door opens.
It's an OMG moment. There stands Mr Lance Bassett, which is a name you won't know. If you grew up here, though, he's a legend. He's the Man Who Got To Unzip Mrs Wilcock's Dress Onstage when we were at school. And watching him do that (in "Plaza Suite" if memory serves) had a profound effect on my fifteen-year-old self. It was electric. It was all we talked about for the rest of the week, and on the Friday I had my careers interview and confidently said "Mr Ross, I'm not interested in being a solicitor. I want to be an actor".
On such shaky, hormonally imbalanced platforms as these, careers are forged. And Mr Bassett? You know, even now he looks a teensy bit pleased with himself.
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