I could never be an actor, firstly because I would be unable to remember my lines, and secondly because I could not spend my life being other people. And yet, I have been a "professional" actor twice.
The first time was having been at Art School, the Old Vic School, and painted scenery at The Royal Opera House, I took my first job as set designer at High Wycombe Repertory Theater. Being weekly rep, I would have to read a play three weeks in advance, draw up a ground plan and model of the set for the producer, select and paint flats, and later, as prop master, before each Monday's "curtain up", assemble and decorate the scene(s) with rented or borrowed artefacts. As you may imagine, for one person to do all this was quite a job.
For a particular play the company was short of an actor. So I volunteered, and even had my name in the programme. I was "second ambulance man". If not exactly Oscar material, at least I didn't drop my end of the stretcher.
The second time I was an actor was on much grander scale in a Peter Greenaway film.
As I was at that time writing a weekly wine column for a newspaper, and knowing that the scene I was to be involved in was eating and drinking, I thought it might be of interest to my readers to know what film stars actually drank on set.
All that was required of me was to dress in a dinner jacket and appear at a certain location, there to be transported with other extras to studios in North London. No payment was to be offered.
For the part I was to play, the requirement was to sit at a dinner table with a few others and pretend (act) to eat, drink and talk. As we did so, the famous principal actors argued over their meal and came to blows with one piercing the other's cheeks with a knife, or perhaps it was a fork.
The food I was supposed to be eating was a single freshwater crayfish, looking rather small on my plate and which smelled pretty horrible when we started filming. It gave off the most dread smell by the end of the day's "takes".
Filming over, and five minutes of actual film accomplished, I discovered that the liquid offered as wine to the famous actors was apple juice for white and Ribena for red - which was not much inside information for my readers.
Then we were all given fish and chips in paper bags and thanked for our contribution. We would be invited to a preview of the film. Was stardom beckoning?
When the film was screened some months later, I think I saw the back of my head - well, I'm not sure it was my head.
And I can still smell that rotting crayfish.
Acting is not for me.
