Summer 2008
Our Shakespearian
midsummer wedding in June 2008 was amazing. Everything fell into place as if by
magic. Money appeared, venues appeared, wine and champagne flowed. The church
was beautiful. My sisters looked so lovely as bridesmaids and I truly felt like
a princess. I was personally fulfilled but financially bankrupt. It was time to
sell my flat. The big acting job had not appeared. Or rather it had but then as
Sir Patrick Stewart had stated night after night. It vanished into air, into
thin air.
We are such stuff as dreams are made
of and our little lives are rounded with a sleep.
The flat
sold eventually and I paid off my debts. I auditioned and auditioned after the
wedding. A T.V. show here, a play there. I was back letting flats for the
summer and also peeing on a stick. The Young Vic audition was not successful.
Thank god I would not be understudying someone’s mother. Especially when the
inimitable Sam Jones herself told me I was magnificent and not to forget it. I
walked out of the audition.
I am
magnificent!
Me: ‘Did I
get the job?’
Agent:’ No,
darling they went the other way. Sorry.’
Which way
was that? Obviously not my way. So, they thought they might go to London and
ended up in Margate.
Later that
month smoking again out of the window of our weeny Islington flat I had the
urge to pee on the last stick I had in the packet.
‘It is positive.’
We are
positive! Life is positive. I threw away the nearly full packet of cigarettes.
I was not a celebrity.
I was not understudying somebody’s mother.
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