The Casting Director Casts.

A lot has been written about casting directors and the way they cast plays, movies and television drama, and whether, in fact, they cast anything at all or even direct. The first point I'll make is that the casting directors I know are usually quite clever, sometimes with a degree in English or drama (they may even be ex-actors) or even risen through the ranks from being a casting director's assistant. It's not as easy as it looks; I have done it a couple of times – mostly for myself – for small cast productions one was for a movie in Hollywood, a movie that I was supposed to be in and which got as far as the read through but the money didn't arrive to carry on so the film went in to turnaround which is a term they use for saying it's gone up in smoke.

Now the read through is when everybody is cast and in America it is called the table read; but no matter what you call it they are quite pleasant experiences to me at least; you get to meet everybody who turns up and hang out.

Some years ago I had a role in a BBC Shakespeare in which I had only one line. The reason I got the gig was that I was a good broad sword fighter – at least that's what I told the director - so I had to learn before the job started and get better during the three or four weeks of rehearsals; which I did.

The read through for that was held at the BBC Rehearsal Rooms in North Acton, which I have mentioned before and, to use an old phrase, I was the only person there I hadn't head of; there was Helen Mirren, the guy who played Darth Vader in Star Wars – David Prowse – James Bolan and others too many to mention.

Also around the huge table were the producer, the director, famous and not so famous cast and some not too well known but considered geniuses or even genii, in the profession.

Huddled up in one corner of the table was a group of scholars and experts from some of the most renowned places of education and research into all folios of Shakespeare's work life and repute. It was their job to listen to every word, pronunciation, stress and accent and who, out of all who were seated around, do you think they came up to see when it had all finished?

Yes – me!

One of the fellows (for he was a fellow and not a fella) came up and said 'is that the way you are going to pronounce importunes?'

I was struck dumb ' . .erm . .erm . .whi . .whi . . which . . what word?'

'we think it should be importunes – you said importunes.'

' oh I see'

'a bit American I think your way.'

I sat back down.

'Bit American aye!'

You may ask who cast this production, well it was done by the director himself and the interview was arranged by his PA.

We just talked and talked for half an hour or so. He wanted to know which role I should play and I said William - I had played William in the theatre and it got plenty of laughs but he didn't agree.

I played Dennis and when I got there that day for the read through he said 'You told me you were rather good at broad sword fighting.'

That information plus my personality had impressed him and I think that's the way to cast.

But the most important thing to me, when I cast my play in 2016, was the fact that as soon as I cast someone to play my daughter and she agreed and we did the deal she was in the most powerful position in the scheme of things. From the moment I cast her I was relying on her to play the role. Maybe most directors don't realise that but it's a fact.

I was up for a movie in Los Angeles and when I arrived at the casting session there were over fifty people there for the job; boys and girls.

They were working as quickly as they could; we went in, had a quick word with the director then I filmed a scene with a girl – I say a girl which, I suppose, is not quite politically correct but who gives a stuff - but she was young enough to play my daughter and old enough to vote. They were casting for both roles and the story was about a father who kept the daughter in a confined way as some kind of obsession and I had to use an American accent.

A week later I got a call back and when I arrived I sat with two of the contenders for the daughter. A little while later a well known actor arrived – well known in Hollywood as I had seen him being interviewed on TV but no movie star or anything like that.

He didn't look at me but chatted to someone who worked there asking if he could sit somewhere else in private – I thought that was a bit of a cheek – and they put him into the casting director's office as he was with the director.

So it was between the two of us.

After a few minutes David Carradine came in and I thought well that's it then I might as well go home, but he came up to the girl that I was going in with and said 'I need a pee!'

He had been waiting in the car for her outside.

So it was between the two of us after all – well I didn't get it. 

I got on well with the director, we both did some good work in there, she produced tears and we got on really well.

A week or so later I went to the Pantages Theatre to see a musical – Miss Saigon, I think it was – and as we were in the foyer the casting director came up to me and said 'you were their other guy' which I think about sums me up.

The rhine in Spine!

Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady.

Hey – sorry to have been away for so long. Lots of other things on my mind recently – apart from Brexit - and that will be the last time I mention it in this post.

But it's a funny world – I looked on line yesterday and saw that a luxury hotel in Pakistan had been invaded by a couple of gun toting terrorists. I looked on TV, at the news, and the only piece of news that mentioned Pakistan was the fact that they were playing cricket against India – no mention of the gun battle.

Just how many tiny wars are going on around the world without us knowing about them, or even having heard of the country and just who is Big Pharma the mysterious conspiracy of nut cases who run the world from some cave in some desert in some place hard to pronounce.

I looked the other day at the figures for this blog and guess what? I have clocked over 200,000 page views – or hits – since I started. So you see, even though I haven't been active with new material the blog still gets red. I have often wondered how to spell the past tense of read and I think its the same, read; I put red in so you don't confuse it.

Pageviews today

79

Pageviews yesterday

40

Pageviews last month

1,155

Pageviews all time history

200,132

Sorry I can't change the font there so it remains tiny.

Here are some figures for now 2.31 pm. May 12^th:

Posts

Entry	Pageviews
The IMDb being sued by mysterious actress. Oct 24, 2011, 2 comments	79
My teenage love story! Feb 21, 2012, 4 comments	15
Are the Royal Family Lizards? Jan 29, 2011, 2 comments	13
The pound sign V the hash key. Oct 7, 2011	11
Buddy Holly, Norman Petty and PAYOLA in The King o... Jan 5, 2016, 2 comments	5

The above are for the week – there are also advertisements placed somewhere within the post – and not many of you are clocking in to them.

Another thing: have you noticed how the word so is used these days to start sentences. By politicians, contestants of Quiz Shows . . in fact nearly everybody.

QUIZ SHOW HOST.

What is your name and what do you do?

CONTESTANT.

So: my name is George and I'm an attorney.

Silly isn't it? It's like saying very fun – just bad! Plain bad English. It's either very funny or fun! Do you know why? Because fun is a noun, believe it or not, and very is an adverb and you can only put an adverb in front of a verb – it 's a bit like saying very table, very chair, but it still gets used, has been in America for a long time, and now it's creeping in over here.

I think they're very fun.

I know, I know I point out these little things out about the language and that you should say you and me and not you and I and I go around misusing the language as much as the next but – the people who misuse it, saying different to instead of different from are the professional broadcasters, who should know better, and we don't have Clive James to point these things out any more. Basically, in essence, you know what I mean. But you will know more when my people talk to your people!!!

So that's it for now and I won't leave it so long before the next piping hot piece of pure poetical particularization.

Goalie or goalkeeper?

             

                                        Gordon Banks

There's an old saying, what I know about football wouldn't get my hair cut. And that about sums me up as I haven't been watching it for very long – well about ten to twenty years; forty – let's face it sixty and I still only know it from the survival end. I have no knowledge about tactics, plans, diamond shaped formations or pressing. I just know what I know. The people in the crowd at football matches know everything about it - or think they do.

What I know about football – we are talking about asSOCiation football, and you can see that little word in caps there which is why America calls it soccer – is that I have followed, for all that time, a team called Aston Villa. I am in good company as Tom Hanks likes the Villa and so does King Billy – the next king after Charles (if, indeed he calls himself Charles; his granddad, Albert, called himself George – bit like the pope, you see).

I have followed other teams too – Liverpool and Manchester United – but only as a passing interest.

The one thing I have noticed about football, in all that time, is that it has changed and not always for the better. When I first started watching, a ball would be passed from either of the wings and as the ball reached inside the six yard box, the goalie and the centre forward would jump up for it and if the goalie caught it the centre forward would shoulder charge the goalie over the goal line and it would be a goal.

When Aston Villa last won the cup, they played, maybe, the best football team ever; the Busby Babes. The team of 1957. The final was marred by a collision after only six minutes between Villa forward Peter McParland and United goalkeeper Ray Wood, which left Wood unconscious with a broken cheekbone. Wood left the pitch and Jackie Blanchflower took over in goal for United. Wood eventually rejoined the game in an outfield position as a virtual passenger before returning to goal for the last seven minutes of the game. 

Not long after that game, on February 6^th 1958, most of the United team were killed in a plane crash in Munich.

In doze daze (those days) there was no such thing as a substitute as, before you ask, no, Wood wasn't subbed. In another cup final someone went off after a short time and the team carried on with ten men. So they introduced substitutes after a lot of nagging with old sweats saying the game will never be the same; an injury was the only reason for substitution which has evolved in to making the use of substitutes into tactical decisions which football has never been able to use correctly like other sports such as Basketball; even Rugby have a more sensible approach to new ideas – but not football. You may think they need to come into the twenty first century but I would say they need to come in to the twentieth first.

It is such a reactionary sport, very conservative when you can count on one hand the number of gay footballers who have ever come out; there are quite a few, believe me, but the powers that be in football are only just about managing racism.

I missed most of the Premiere League when we lived in America, only watching the World Cup, which was strange when we would hear the American commentators referring to PKs (penalties) and one of them used to call the goal the onion bag. So when I came back and started to watch the Premiere League I was startled at the quality of the football, the skill of the players and the excitement of the whole thing. Of course most of the live football is on Sky TV which costs an arm and a leg so I am quite satisfied with Match of the Day which is on BBC TV.

The one thing I did notice was that the goalie, these days, doesn't seem to run out to punch the ball away, or even catch it, as often as they used to, preferring to stay on the goal line and taking a chance.

Talking of goalies, I was talking about football to a pal, when I lived in LA, and I mentioned the goalkeeper; 'the what?' my pal said 'the goalkeeper!' I said – 'never heard them called that before' he said.

Gordon Banks died recently; possibly England's greatest goalkeeper, maybe even the shortest. He made a famous save in the 1970 world cup from, maybe the greatest ever footballer, Pelė, which people say was the best save ever. The people who say that didn't see all his saves, of course, and, even though I have used it once or twice, there is no such thing as the greatest anything – even a country (sorry America) – but Banks would be up there if there was such as thing.

At his prime Banks got into a car crash and lost the sight in his right eye – he was a great ambassador for football after that, but had to sell his world cup medal later on because of financial difficulties; footballers were always on low money and these days most of them are not great earners but Banks was dedicated as most footballers are.

Banks would dive for every shot – even the ones he knew were going wide – and when asked about this he would say it would warm him up, get him ready and make him feel part of the game.

                                               

Between the Sheets; a gambling tale.

Now here's a little tale for you; and it's true. A tale is usually a tale, which means it's not true and I sometimes have to think whether it's tale or tail but when I see tail I know which one it is.

Some time ago when I had only been acting for about three years, this was after a year of night school and three years full time at drama school, although most of the rest of them called it college – in fact that college is now a university, or UNI, as they call it.

We were living in Northampton; we moved there, or relocated, as they say, because we could afford to buy a house there and it was about one hour from London by train or car.

Near to Christmas I got a job in a TV series called Hunter's Walk which was shot at Elstree Studios, less than an hour from our house.

The series was set in Northampton and that may be why I got the job as they guessed I might be able to do the accent. The people from London usually think that the Northampton accent was the same as Birmingham and the Birmingham people hear it as a London accent.

The fact is the director didn't know where I lived and when I met him I was up for the leading guest role – if there is such a thing. In America it would be called guest star. When I walked in to the waiting room one of the other actors, who was up for the same role, told me that he knew the director. He was touching wood with his hand and saying 'I know him – I know him' and crossing his fingers and when he went in he said 'wish me luck!'

Well what do you know – what about my luck?

I went in and we got on okay; I read for the role in my cod Northampton accent and the director seemed very pleased and was telling me how much he liked my portrayal, now ordinarily I would take this as a lot of encouragement but then I remembered the words 'I know him – I know him' so I didn't quite believe him.

'I think you did very well with that' he said 'you could easily play it' then the kicker came in – 'there are a few other roles to cast, as this character has some pals if . . .' and I knew what was coming ' . . . if you don't get this role would you be interested in one of the other parts – he has three pals.'

'Yes' I said and when I left the room he said 'see you in rehearsals.'

And that's how it turned out.

I didn't know the other actor but he was well known and I've seen him on TV and in movies and I think he went into one of the soaps.

There was a very well known Irish singer, exceptionally popular in Britain, with hit records, his own television show called Val Doonican. On the first day I arrived in reception at Elstree he was talking to a receptionist and I walked straight up to him, shook his hand warmly and said 'hey Barry – what are you doing here?' he looked totally confused. 'Barry' I said, then I realised who it was; Val bloody Doonican.

I made my apologies and slinked off. Every time I went in the bar after that, and he was there, he would say 'hello Barry' and laugh.

It was a fine friendly job and I was in a few scenes, too long ago to remember exactly, but we had to go to Wellingborough, which is in Northamptonshire and come out of a pub, drunk, get in to a taxi after making a load of noise and banter and then after that back to rehearsals in Elstree.

I can't remember how long I worked there but it was a few weeks and when we finished it would be Christmas. Seems easy, up to Christmas, a nice load of money from the job but . . . . it usually takes a few weeks to get paid by the time they have sorted everything out; we didn't get wages we got a fee. Bit like an attorney or some other professional but to me I had to try and make sure I could pay for Christmas. Three kids and Santa to think about, in laws or parents and all that food booze and presents to buy but I reckon I had it sorted.

I know what you are thinking; this piece is called 'Between the Sheets; a Gambling Tale' and you are thinking what's that got to do with what I have been reading.

But relax dear reader as I think it comes now.

There is a card game called Between the Sheets. So you see it is nothing to do with romping rattling.

In the card game two cards are dealt to each player around the table. Everyone can see your cards as they are dealt face up.

So let us say you are dealt a four and a nine. The dealer now asks you if you would like to bet and how much are you wagering. The idea is to get the next card between those two numbers. You had a choice of (something like) 50 pence, one pound or the lot. If your card is now five, six, seven or eight, you are between the sheets. You get a pound back if you wager 50 pence, two pounds if you have bet one pound and if you have bet the lot you get all the money from the kitty in the middle of the table.

If your card is not between the sheets you have to throw your fifty pence, your pound or – and this is the interesting bit – you have to put whatever is in the kitty which is in the middle of the table.

The games last a long time as people go for the lot sometimes and clear all the money away. Sometimes people take their two pounds and they are quite satisfied with that especially when the money in the kitty has really piled up.

Oh? Something very important. An ace counts as a one or eleven – like in pontoon or black jack. If your two cards are both aces, one can count as an eleven and the other as one so if that happens you go for the lot as there is very little chance of you failing unless you draw one of the two aces left in the pack.

If you do that, and have three aces, you have to double what is in the kitty and if the game has been going for a long time there is a load of money on that table.

We had a few games, in the bar/canteen during breaks but the last time I played it, the game had been going for a long time. Some of the regular members of the cast had gathered round, people came over from the bar – not Val – and one of the clever clogs regular members of the cast said 'It's simple. All you have to do it go for the lot every time.'

Well we all heard him and as the cards went around we would win some, the odd two pounds, the odd one pound than I was dealt two aces. I didn't have a lot of cash with me, it was in the days before the ATMs but the cards were there like Steve McQueen in the Cincinnati Kid; two aces. I looked around and no one had been dealt another ace which meant there were two others in the pack and if one came to me, and I bet the lot I would have had to cover that huge pot, in fact double the whole amount.

I had to think about it. I could have bet the maximum, get two pounds but I knew I needed to take a chance. I had heard what clever clogs has said 'It's simple. All you have to do it go for the lot every time.'

But I didn't have any money – what I did have was a cheque book and with it a cheque guarantee card, which are extinct now. So I took my cheque book out, my card and said 'okay if I lose I'll settle with this.

The dealer said 'what do you want to do?'

Three kids and Santa to think about, in laws or parents and all that food booze and presents to buy and I reckoned I had it sorted but would I have it sorted if the wrong card came up?

'Deal' I said.

He dealt the card and I won – don't ask me to tell you what card it was, all I know is that it wasn't an ace.

We all shook hands and off I went in my Hillman Minx up the M1 to Northampton and Christmas.

This is a good gambling story – a bad one would be to try and do it again but there we go.

Los Angeles to Chicago by train: including a death in Fort Madison Iowa.

There is our train engine resting in Chicago after the two day journey from Los Angeles.

Here I am in the wee small hours of January 28^th 2019' earlier I was talking about this train journey with one of my daughters and because I was put in mind of it I am, once again, repeating a post of my blog from eight years ago.

Here goes:

We are on a train and stopped in Albuquerque, New Mexico where the temperature between the inside of the train and outside is vast. We were out walking along the platform, looking at the array of Indian trinkets, blankets and the like and as we were doing this it was over ninety degrees Fahrenheit.

The journey, so far, has been entertaining. The priority of time on this train has taken a back seat to the attention to detail, the running of the system and the pleasure of travel.

There is no wi-fi on the train so I will write in bits over this journey through America from Los Angeles to Chicago; unless anything extraordinary happens between Chicago and New York I won't write about that part of the journey as I've already written On a Train in England in March, 2011.

The first thing we heard last night when we got on was a message over the speaker system from Chip the lounge car attendant telling us he was delayed slightly getting his groceries and had a problem with his fridge and asked us to give him a break and that he would be starting shortly with a bill of fare which includes coffee, beer, pizza, burgers and potato chips.

After a little while he came on again to say he was open which meant that everybody on the train went to Chip the lounge car attendant and lined up; his little lounge car is like a mini Seven Eleven – maybe about 30 feet long with passengers seats on either side – so you can imagine the hustle and bustle.

On the menu it said that they had 'freshly brewed' decaf coffee but when I went there afterwards he told me they were out of decaf!!!

After that we heard from 'Jackie in the Diner' – she was asking people if they wanted to make dinner reservations; she would say 'this is Jackie in the diner – would anybody wishing to book for dinner make your reservations now.' This voice would come on at various intervals asking people to come in for dinner, lunch or whatever.

Then Chip from the lounge car would come on again telling us he was going on a break so if anybody wanted anything they needed to hurry up and come and get it.

Things were swinging along and we were travelling then Jackie came on the speaker system again and wanted to know if people could hear her as the system didn't appear to be working. Chip from the lounge car came on to say he could, in fact, hear her.

When he said this a woman, sitting close by, used her mobile phone and speaking quite loudly in a New York accent said 'This is Dolores from Delaware; I need to speak to Mr Jefferson.'

This sounded interesting but Jackie came on the speaker system again saying 'I can't hear you at all, Chip; you're not coming through.'

Then again 'This is Delores from Delaware! Can you put me through?'

Then 'This is Chip from the lounge car – I am back from my break; if you want bagles or drinks now is the time to come.

Whilst this was going on over the speaker system a ticket collector interrupted all by saying he was coming around for tickets and 'don't forget to sign them in the top left hand corner.'

Each time he took a ticket from someone who hadn't signed it he would say 'I need you to put your autograph in the top left hand corner.'

Jackie came on again 'This is Jackie in the diner – am I coming through?'

'I can hear you, Jackie' said Chip from the lounge car.'

'This is Delores from Delaware – is Mister Jefferson there?”

The ticket inspector approached us puffing and blowing after climbing some stairs 'those stairs are killing me' he said; we're on the top deck.

'This is Jackie from the diner; I will be coming around to take dinner reservations, starting with the sleeping section and then couch.'

I sat reflecting about my years in America knowing that they are contemplating an all electric super duper rail system which will get you from point A to point B faster than a speeding bullet and wishing they wouldn't do it as it would spoil this lot.

The food in the lounge car was ropey to say the least but the food in the diner was excellent and reasonably priced.

There are four seats at each table so you are forced to face the other two people which more or less forces you to communicate with them.

On the first evening at dinner we sat with a Navajo professor and his wife; he was quite famous as he was the first Indian professor – I don't know if he was the first in the state or the country but he told us he had celebrated his 67th birthday recently by walking down one side of the Grand Canyon, along the flat bit and up the other side; he was a very fit looking 67 years of age and he told us he does 10K runs and used to be a baseball pitcher. I don't know if he was a major league pitcher or just played at college level as we never got that far but they were getting out at Flagstaff, Arizona the following morning at 4:30.

The next morning at breakfast we met Tom and Jenny from Victorville California; famous for the place where Roy Rogers used to live and have his western museum; I remember his horse, trigger, nearly stepping on me at the stage door after I saw Roy Rogers live at a theatre in Birmingham, England. I have to say that as there are quite a few Birminghams in America apart from the one in Alabama.

Tom and Jenny were also an interesting couple having cycled the world, by all accounts, and regular train travellers.

In the Observation Car I met another Navajo Indian but this one lived on the reservation. As we sat watching New Mexico flash by he pointed out lots things about the area and showed me some black stones which he said were from the top of 'that mountain' which exploded with the help of the volcano hundreds of millions of years ago. He went on to say that they used the black stones (he had a name for them which I have forgotten) in their sweat lodges.

He was going from Gallup, New Mexico, to Albuquerque to meet his son; he was sending his son a message using the modern equivalent of the smoke signal; his Blackberry.

He said he was proud of his son as he took the decision to leave the reservation and set up by himself 'abroad.' He said he had lived 'abroad' for a short time – abroad was anywhere off the reservation.

Indeed it is abroad as the reservations have their own sovereignty.

Later that day, Saturday, we had dinner with two people on their way back to live in Chicago from Los Angeles – we wished them well on their journey and they did the same for us.

Before we met them for dinner – in the usual accidental way – a man two seats in front of us was getting leery; he had been drinking all day and his voice was sounding very horse.

Whilst we were away he called everybody names and started shouting; someone called the conductor who came and told him off; he sat in his seat for a moment but when she went he started again. Then the same things again but this time he was really screaming so the conductor, a young woman, threw him into his chair, called the cops and they threw him off the train and into gaol somewhere; we were oblivious to all this as we were at dinner with our bicycle travellers.

Chip in the lounge car came on the loud speaker as we pulled in to Fort Madison, Iowa, to say that he was running out of food in the lounge car; he was out of bagles, pizzas and most of the cheese and ham sandwiches.

As the train pulled out of Fort Madison the train suddenly stopped; we had run over somebody. We were travelling at about 15 - 20 mph and apparently the person was killed. We don't know anything about it at the moment but within two or three minutes a cop car arrived and scaled a six feet fence outside; then he was told where the body was by some kids outside.

The latest news is a few young guys tried to cross the tracks and the last one was hit and killed by the train; there's no need to describe what we know or what I saw but you know what train wheels are like; the young guys were all in their twenties.

As we sit here waiting to move a voice in the background is heard: 'This is Delores from Delaware; I am just north of the train station in Fort Madison, Iowa. Today a man was killed . . . .”

As if oblivious to everything, whilst this was going on, another voice was heard ' this is Chip in the lounge car – I'm just back from my break.'

Cops look at the body whilst paramedics call the coroner.

Diary of an actor

I put this on FaceBook today. I was looking for something and came across a diary I kept when we lived in Northampton – here it is word for word (more or less) and I remember very little of it. On another page of the diary I met a famous film director and don't actually remember it at all.

Elvis Presley died yesterday. I was listening to John Peel on the radio last night and he said he had heard the news from the news room. Then he carried on with his planned show as he said 'we don't play tributes' - or words to that affect.

I'm starting a new job the week after next. I am playing Richard (the Lion Heart) in The Lion in Winter at Cheltenham. The money isn't brilliant - £58.70 including subsistence – but we should just about manage especially if the repeats from the commercial start coming in.

I thought I might have been going to Northampton to do a play or two. I went to see the artistic director, David Kelsey; he was quite specific about the time, ten-o-clock, as he was due to start rehearsals at 10.30. I arrived at three minutes to and he didn't arrive till twenty past so I wasn't very optimistic.

He entered the office and picked up the newspaper, opened a few pages then put it down; looked at his mail, quickly, and put that down. Then he turned around to look at his bookcase, with his back to me, then called over his shoulder 'do you sing?'

Eventually he sat down and said 'have a look at Arthur Wickstead in this' and he threw a copy of Habeas Corpus to me after he had sent 'upstairs' for it.

He said the part can be played any age and said to come back the following Tuesday.

I looked at the role and it was originally played by Alec Guinness – but the character had a grown up son and was aged around fifty three. I thought it was a bit ridiculous but afterwards I got used to the idea. I went back to the theatre, as arranged – on time – and there he was in his office having a production meeting -'can you wait outside, Chris' he said; so I did.

I went to the empty bar and waited for about ten minutes then I heard footsteps going down the stairs away from me and someone said 'hello.' It sounded like Lionel Hamilton. I was sure that was David Kelsey's voice, answering him back, so I went down the stairs – I could talk to Lionel in any case.

Sure enough, when I got there, it was David Kelsey, wearing his hat, carrying his briefcase and on the way to rehearsals. I said a very quick hello to Lionel and stepped back to wait for them to finish their conversation.

When Lionel went, David Kelsey said 'what do you think of it?' I said I liked it and he beckoned me to follow him in to the foyer of the theatre where he said 'that role has gone to somebody else but would you look at the Vicar; I think you would be very good.'

I said okay and we arranged to meet to following Thursday at 12.30 pm.

Thursday morning a letter arrived from the theatre; the appointment was cancelled and 'could I call the theatre to arrange another appointment for Friday.'

I did and met David Kelsey at one-o-clock at the theatre and as soon as I got in to the office he told me he couldn't use me. The theatre was way over budget and the board had agreed that they couldn't afford me. I took his cigarette and went.

Over the next couple of days, England won The Ashes.

SoundZ on YouTube.

Happy New Year to one and all – I hope you had a good hogmanay. Do you know what saddens me? Spell checks don't recognise that word – hogmanay! 

It was first used by Mary Queen of Scots in 1561 and may, indeed, have originated in France.

Here's what the dictionary says: Hogmanay (Scots: [ˌhɔɡməˈneː]; English: /ˌhɒɡməˈneɪ/ HOG-mə-NAY) is the Scots word for the last day of the year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year (Gregorian calendar) in the Scottish manner.

And by the way – all the spellings here are spelt the English way.

So now – I have put my film SoundZ on YouTube; it has had its film festival run, screenings at Soho Screening Rooms, Harrow Filmmakers, an audience at NW London Equity and to an audience of shrinks; well doctors. They said I'd got it about right with the schizophrenia but nobody can be hypnotised over the phone and I said it was his own voice; he hypnotised himself. 'oh yes,' they said . . . (SPOILER there).

I made the film as an experiment to see if I could do all the jobs and loved it. Those with good memories will remember me writing on here about it.

When you have seen it – when, I hope – you can always go to the IMDb and write a review – the link for that is at the bottom of the page and you are not obliged to write a good one.

There are 2 co-stars – a bird and a fox at around three minutes or so and I hope you like it; click on this to view the move which is only 20 minutes long - 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dKxBVhpTpw&t=42s

AND FOR THE REVIEW:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3978386/reference

you will see other reviews which came from audiences at the screenings. But don't feel pressured.