Insta-Ham

A weekend of walking by the glorious Rutland Water has given the newly sculpted foot the ultimate road test. Mr Singh, I salute you. I give it a Gold medal.
The rest of the body gets a booby prize. Dear Lord, once I'd sat down I could hardly lift the creaking frame.

Before I'd finally collapsed in a heap, however, we had strolled round the Lincolnshire town of Stamford. A beautiful weekend's sunshine showing off its elegant limestone buildings dating from 17th century.
I still love it.
Even though it was this town that brought my acting ambitions to an abrupt halt.

In 1994 the BBC made a production of Middlemarch; Stamford provided the perfect setting.
My brother was the First Assistant and Anthony Page was directing.
I was starting my career as a supporting artist, or Film extra as it was called then. The children joined me on this shoot and they too had the pleasure of dressing up. Dearest, in case you're curious, chose to be their chaperone, as fancy dress has never been one of his idiosyncrasies.

The Hustings, which if you are familiar with the book, is where Arthur Brooke (played by Robert Hardy) takes a pasting from the crowd who pelt him with ripe plums.
It probably comes as no surprise to learn that most actors are protected (and their costumes) when it comes to doing a reverse shot on the crowd.  The job of walking the Robert Hardy walk was delegated to my brother who had to walk across the stage carrying a large wooden board so that the crowd could go mad with the plums.
Well, that was how I understood the direction.
Imagine my unalloyed joy at being given the opportunity of slinging squishy plums at my kid brother, and being paid as well...
I was giving it some, when I saw Anthony step down from the stage. And heading towards me.
Apparently he had said to my brother, "Rob, is that your sister down there?" At which my brother, nodded with a heart that must have plummeted...(No other way to describe it.)
He wended his way through the crowd, took me to one side, and said, "Lesley, you're going a little Yoko Ono with the plums, darling.."
Dear readers,  this little Yoko curled up with mortification at his kindly intervention. Over-acting? The cringe-factor was beyond over-statement.
Some six weeks later, my brother bumped into Anthony coming out of an editing suite. He said he had just been editing the Hustings scene, and that his sister was really rather good. (I italicise to rub salve into fading scar.)
I was grateful to hear that. I now know what was meant when Anthony Page had been described once as an "actor's director".

I don't believe my brother made it up. Because you'll know, if you've been following these ramblings, that my brother doesn't believe in buttering me up. No, not at all...

Stamford 1994   

Douglas Hodge (remember him in The Night Manager?)