Relight My Fire

How many firemen does it take to check an alarm?

Three. 

One to look hot, one to remind you which borough you’re in and one to do the job.

Such was my afternoon a few months ago, when my dear housemate insisted we were unsafe in the house.  Our fire alarm had recently reminded us of its existence by screaming…over a wisp of smoke that arose one day from an excited piece of toast.  But not within his earshot, so he arranged for a free check-up care of the fire service.  Amazing.

The visit was booked for 11am and as I was working from home that day, I couldn’t wait to meet my new friend. 

There was no show. 

I had been alerted to the fact that if he did not show up, he had most probably been called to an emergency so when at 12 noon there was still no show, I went for a run.

 

I got back, sat down to lunch and there the bell went a ringing.  On opening the door I saw three very large men, in uniform, crammed on the top step of the porch.  Shocked.  And slightly in awe, I stared at them.  They too seemed shocked.  They were expecting a male.

So in they came, tested the first alarm and it worked.  Embarrassed, I apologised for wasting their time.  They were not perturbed.

Two disappeared upstairs with their big clumping boots for a mere two minutes while the Model Fireman waited.  I think he was their Senior Person.  ‘The Knowledge’ on all things fire, safety and face creams.  We stood there looking at each other whilst he silently surveyed the house, and listened to his two comrades flailing about upstairs.

Then Hackney Fireman arrives in the hall and speaks,

“Listen love we’ve fitted two new fire alarms.”

I think he expected me to faint or something.

He carried on…”Don’t try and change the battery yourself, you’ll have to call us back. You need to tell your landlord that he’s in serious breach of contract here.  If you’ll pardon my French your fire alarm is f**ked.”

During this lecture the Worker Fireman finds a ladder, and goes off to fit another alarm…the reason all 3 are here let us not forget. 

Two of these firemen are now in my kitchen and I don’t quite know what to do.  Two uniformed men in my kitchen, and one upstairs doing work.  Model fireman stands in the corner smouldering. 

Hackney man continues…

“You’re from Northern Ireland?”

 “Um…yes.”  How exactly does this relate to my fire safety at home?

“How long you been here?”

Seriously mate is this part of your fire safety talk?  “Um…8 years”

“8 YEARS”…he screams…”BLOODY ‘ELL, how old ARE you then?”

Stunned I answer.  “29”

“Bloody hell love… you don’t look THAT old!”

Model Fireman remains silent whilst Worker Fireman returns with tales of success of a third fire alarm fitted, and all three take an age to leave the house. 

As I write this the fire alarm squeaks, the squeak of a Fire alarm low on battery.  Except it’s not, it just got fitted.

Lessons learnt:

Fit firemen don’t fit alarms, they observe from afar.

Audition - it's what we do.

Tis a great feeling when your agent calls and says that you, yes you, have been selected to meet with someone regarding a job. 

It was with such delight and urgency that I received a call about five years ago for a musical going to the Edinburgh Fringe.  An audition for a musical about mental illness.  I had it in the bag surely.  Whilst training, a director told me he was sure I’d been a schizophrenic in a previous life so convincing was my portrayal on stage.

Like buses I went for a few weeks without one casting and then a string of mentally unstable characters in theatre and TV came along…I’ve had to surrender to the possibility of ever playing pretty.  Recently I waltzed up to an audition beaming as I was called for the pretty flirty wee thing…on arrival I was quickly corrected.  “NO.  Today you’ll be auditioning for Ellen…older, plainer, bitter.”

Anyway back to mental illness. The real life subject not to be laughed at but could this musical really be serious? I hadn’t seen a script so had visions of choruses of “I’m mad, you’re mad, we’re all mad together” running through my head.

I was quite inexperienced in the art of auditioning at the time.  But even now I have to fight the demons of insecurity when you hear the person before you doing their thing.  The brief…the old familiar chestnut.  Prepare one piece two minutes long and a song of your choice.  Simple.

I entered a room and was greeted by a young couple behind a table in front of the brightest light.  It was like the sun had landed on the pavement outside and was shining straight at me.  Almost hidden from sight was a pianist.  As a trio they were not ogres, terrifying and grizzly.  They were in fact quite pleasant.  So I don’t know what happened on passing through that door into the room of light but henceforth that following 15 minutes would go down in history as my worst audition.

Now perhaps I should not be so bold to profess this yet.  I am not yet dead, who knows what lies ahead but I pray I have learnt a lot from this experience.

I started my monologue, one I’d performed a fair few times before…and approximately 30 seconds in I completely forgot what I was doing, where I was, who I was.  Now this perhaps could have been seen as perfect for such a musical as this.  But no!  The idea is to cast an actor who could play mental illness not someone suffering from a condition.  It was awful.  I stuttered, then staggered my way through the piece, my brain trying to grab any semblance of control.  I found it, but was shaken.  My audience looked shocked…and not with pleasant surprise.

Next, the song.  Surely something could be regained.  Surely.  Something.  And so the pianist started.  And off I set too.  A dainty little ditty from my home country…except the old brain had started to engage with what had just happened. 

And so I started to go slightly red at the cheek.  Singing my Irish ditty I started to focus on trying not to blush, which we all know works so well, and continued to get redder and redder and redder.  By this stage my audience have signed me over to be committed.  Song ended.  Brief chat.  And I ran out of that room.  Straight on the tube.  Back to my house and burst into uncontrollable tears.  After finishing four years of training, performing professionally and countless times as a kid, I couldn’t even stand in front of 3 nice people.  I could, I can, I will.  It just would seem sometimes our best days are not every day.  Sometimes madness catches you unawares and sometimes perhaps your finest performances are in real life.

Meeting An Appearance

Appearances can be deceiving.

I have two reports on this very fact from this week.

First up, I am now working at a chocolate store and café…a place where you might stay and where you buy chocolate minus the ‘e’.  Located in the centre of London we get the odd celebrity buyer…Justin Lee Collins, Gina McKee to name but a few.  And my guest of all guests.

I did not recognise him by sight but by voice.  Flying past him whilst he was at the counter I turned 360 to see the beholder of said voice.  One I had heard many times on re runs, one usually so full of exasperation and here he was ordering a latte.

It was Clive Swift; most famously known as Richard from Keeping Up Appearances.  This may have gone unnoticed apart from the fact that I love this show.  It is brilliant, I love Patricia Routledge.  I love the writing and the performance.  I was in awe.  I’ve watched Clive Swift (albeit a younger version) for many a Christmas/ Sunday afternoon.  He is great.

Now we all remember my success in meeting these people who are known from the world of movies and TV (Huge Bus)

I was so confused as to whether it was him.  The voice said so but he looked older.  I observed him from afar for what seemed hours whilst deliberating whether or not to approach. Was it rude to? Was I an annoyance?  I took three steps forward, six steps back...about three times and then suddenly I was at his side poking him.

He turned around.

“I’m really sorry to bother you” I start nervously, “but I just want you to know that I love your work”…yes I did use that phrase! “I’ve watched you all my life and think you’re great.”

His face is shocked.

Then I freak out thinking “Dear God this is not him, this is not Clive Swift, this is some poor unsuspecting member of the public.”

I continue rather frantically, “I mean you are the guy who played Richard, with Hyacinth Bucket, I mean Patricia Routledge, it’s you…isn’t it?

Silence.

Then his voice, “Yes, yes it is, thank you, gosh, thank you very much.”

Delighted I throw my hand into his with a ‘My name’s Rachel and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

And with that I pick up my chocolate and skip off.

When he’s leaving a bit later he comes up and chats with me asking me what it’s like to work at this chocolate place to stay! I tell him I’m an actor and we then have a mighty chat involving the Actors Centre which he set up, mutual friends and general good cheer.

He came back the next day and asked after me. I’d rather he asked casting directors to ask for me but we all must start somewhere!

Then I had an audition for a 22 year old flirty pretty Irish girl.  I thought all my wishes had come true.  Someone had seen my profile picture and thought I was pretty.  Very pleased with myself I did my hair, made my make up nice and turned up only to be greeted with “Ah yes, you’re going to audition now for Ellen.”

“Who?”

“Oh she’s 27, bitter and plain…”

Yes, appearances can be deceiving.

Life is a Musical

Never did I think when I got cast as the lead in Redundancy The Musical that I would actually be made redundant.  So my New Year’s resolution is to gain employment in ‘Happily Married with Kids The Musical’, and ‘Really Exciting Acting Job, Never Have to Temp Again The Musical’…in fact even ‘Dating The Musical’ would suffice for now!

Yes the days of cold calling green accommodations throughout the UK are behind me…as apparently are the days of paid work.

I recently went for an audition for a huge event that is happening this year.  I am unable to say anything about it apart from the fact that I got recalled…”Excellent!” I hear you cry.  Yes, excellent, yes indeed for a…hip hop class. 

Now for those of you who do not know me, there is nothing in first meeting with me that might lead you to believe I was hiding any such hidden moves…but someone in the Events Team thought they saw hip hop spirit within me.  And I will discover in about two weeks if it is indeed anywhere near me!  At my recall I was sporadically placed between the two best dancers of the 200 present; a hot, tall, black teenager and a cutesey elfin Irish girl; both of whom had the moves like they’d choreographed the whole routine.  I feel I may be watching both my new friends from the comfort of my living room but time will tell. 

And yes the delay in writing for a while was because the unknown actress started making contacts – hurrah!  A lot of them unpaying contacts but hey you’ve got to start somewhere! Oh yes, hang on, I did…seven years ago!  But anyway a comedy night, a musical, a trip to act in Israel and Palestine and a chance to be involved in that huge event that’s happening this summer all happened over a couple of months so long may that continue.

Here ends a brief intro to the New Year from the Unknown Actress so…

Happy New Year of Olympic proportions…may everything bloom apart from our waistlines!...unless you’re pregnant, in which case congratulations!