That Was the Blog That Was...

Jaysus. Where do the years go?

I've just visited this page for the first time in years with the intention of taking it down as its been so long since I last posted anything at all here and 7 years since the last proper entry. Like I said; Jaysus. Where do the years go? But reading over the page a bit I've decided to let it alone and leave it here for people to read if they want. It gets a few hits here and there each month so why not.

But as a kind of farewell to it I suppose I should say why I stopped it rather than you all think it was laziness. It wasn't laziness. At one point it was serious illness, but once that was sorted (both times) I did plan to continue it. Then I sat down and was working out what entries I now needed to write to catch up with the years of madness both life wise and job wise. It would have been a long haul, but I was up for it as I always enjoyed writing this blog and telling tall tales of a fella from Congress Place trying his best to put a roof over his head in The London by dressing up for a living. But the thing was I couldn't talk about everything. This blog was always honest to the point of self humiliation but things had and were now happening in my career that I just couldn't talk about. Not online anyway. If I put some of those stories into black and white type on a website I would never work again. I would be committing career suicide. So I thought I'd just be very judicious and still tell tales of me getting pissed and having a laugh and just pepper in some bits of (heavily edited and very abridged) stories of me being a poncey actor. All laughs and shits and giggles.

And then I thought, what's the fuckin point?

It wasn't all laughs and shits and giggles. There were crazy times, brilliant times and bad times. There are brilliant mad stories just about the business and how bit by bit it changes the longer you stay in it and I realised that they really couldn't be spoken about in a public place like the internet. Not without the fear of offending someone and at the end of the day I still have to get up and audition same as almost every other actor. That's real showbiz kids. The point of this blog was to tell real stories about a business that is sometimes very unreal. Why sugar coat it? If I can't tell the stories I really want to tell, why tell any at all? Best just to let it lie.

So I did.

The best place to hear what happened after those two years I wrote about is probably sitting beside me on a bar stool in The London buying me cider or whiskey. Ah yeah.

So while the blog is over, my life thankfully is not and I am in rude health and great form and type this in my trailer on the set of a movie I'm shooting in Dublin. How bad? Still dressing up for a living. I cannot complain but like any actor I sometimes do.

I leave here nearly two years of my life. I hope you enjoy. It gets better as it goes along

... a bit like life.

Up the Déise boy!

Jamie Beamish
June 2013
http://www.jamiebeamish.com

1. AND SO IT BEGINS
2. ONE WEEK ON And a week is a long time in the...
3. THE NEXT ORLANDO BLOOM Meetings with casting...
4. AND THE WINNER IS........... Not me. But I cou...
5. ALAS POOR CALICO I BARELY KNEW YE
6. YOUR ONLY AS YOUNG AS THE PLAYING AGE YOU FEEL ...
7. ONE MUSICAL TO RULE THEM ALL They'll make a mu...
8. IT NEVER RAINS....... But it feckin' pours! I...
9. LIGHTS! CAMERA! INACTION!
10. THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
11. SILENCE IS GOLDEN
12. THE JITTER
13. THINGS HAPPEN IN THREES
14. WAITING FOR THE PHONE TO RING
15. DIGS HELL
16. LORD OF THE FESTIVAL
17. THE WAY I ALWAYS AM!
18. YORK, SO GOOD THEY NAMED IT ONCE
19. WHY DON'T YOU GET YOURSELF A PROPER JOB?
20. 'TWAS THE RUN UP TO CHRISTMAS....
21. A WHALE OF A TALE
22. THE TAXMAN COMETH!
23. MUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING
24. DID YOU BLINK?
25. BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS.
26. DOUBLE BUBBLE TOIL AND TROUBLE
27. FAME AT LEAST!
28. WHEN YOUR LIFE FLASHES BEFORE YOU
29. JIMMY THREE JOBS
30. BRUSH UP YOUR SHAKESPEARE
31. SING (AND DANCE) FOR YOUR SUPPER
32. SHOW TO SHOW BEAMISH?
33. TO OPEN AND CLOSE A SHOW IN THE SAME WEEK
34. TOADING IN THE RAIN?
35. HIT THE ROAD JACK
36. ROLL UP FOR THE MYSTERY TOUR!

- A CHANGE TO THE SCHEDULED PROGRAMME Hello all, T...
- Janey Mac Was it that long ago?

Janey Mac Was it that long ago?

Janey mac was it that long ago that I posted here!!

Well Waterford were slaughtered in the All Ireland. I got cancer again. The two were not related. More chemo and a stem cell transplant later I'm hunky dory and back working.

But this place is looking a bit tired and empty so head here:

www.jamiebeamish.com

Seeya there

Up the Deise!

Be cool

Jammy Beamy

A CHANGE TO THE SCHEDULED PROGRAMME

Hello all,

This blog is not dead. Neither am I. That’ll be somewhat morbidly humorous to those of you that know me well.

First of all I am going to be posting again very very soon as I am about to have an awful lot of time on my hands. Some of you will know why for others I wont spoil the drama for you, keep reading :-)

Secondly there will be a change to the way I’ll be posting. I will now be emailing the entries rather than posting here. I have me reasons, so if you want to get the diary straight to your inbox drop me a line at: jamiebeamish@gmail.com and i’ll put ya on the list.

If you’ve wandered over here from google or wherever do please have a read of the entries below and email me if you fancy reading some more.

38. COLLEGES, CATHEDRALS, CORPSING AND CASTANETS
39. AMERICAN PIE
40. RIDICULOUS TO THE SUBLIME
41. THE DEISE BOY WHO WOULDN'T GROW UP
42. THREE AUDITIONS AND A WEDDING
43. OH I DO LIKE TO BE BESIDE THE SEASIDE
44. ONCE MORE INTO THE GREAT UNKNOWN
45. THE BALDY BEAST OF CORK!
46. STRING THAT BOW
47. OH IT'S A LOVELY WAR
48. LIFE BEGINS
49. LIFE'S A BEACH
50. THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
51. VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF LIFE
52. AND THE LOSER IS.....
53. EVERY SILVER LINING HAS A CLOUD
54. OH WHAT A WEEK THAT WAS
55. ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS ME TWO FRONT TEETH
56. THE YEAR OF THE KEANE
57. IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES TWAS THE WORST OF TIMES
58. DIARY OF A DÉISE MAN IN THE DÉISE...............
59. THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Lots to come

Hope you’re all well, looking forward to your emails.

Jamie

36. ROLL UP FOR THE MYSTERY TOUR!

The tour had begun. It would take me to the other side of the world, I would walk down Broadway, see the White House, do Spanish stuff, but before all of that great shit there had to be;

VENUE 1: SWINDON!

I'd never been to Swindon before and if ye yerselves have never been, take some advice from uncle Jamie; don't go. Give it a miss I'm tellin' ya. Gray was the day and the colour of the town as I got out of the train at Swindon station. The picturesque taxi journey to the theatre put no amount of joy in me and we arrived at the theatre which on the outside looked like a red brick warehouse. Nice. On the marquee the posters boldly announced Peter Pan for Christmas with some celebrity that was B-List before colour telly and also told us that the Gruffalo was on its way. I had a feeling Shakespeare wasn't seen very often in Swindon. Time to educate them then. I got there not too late for the tech as they were running late anyway and eventually we lashed into it. This was the scary shit about to kick in. I mean I only had a week and a half to rehearse the show and now it was suddenly very real. This was actually happening and we had a paying audience in the following night. They wanted their money's worth and there was no way I was gonna have them saying 'Well that was good, pity about the Irish guy though.' Techs are always long and boring and this was no exception .... so I wont bore ye. It didn't help that I hadn't been to bed yet, so I grabbed little bits of sleep here and there. It was going well for the most part and the plan for the following day was to finish it and do a dress rehearsal before opening. After a quick pint we happy few that had the same digs headed up to check in. The landlady was grand but would not stop laughing and giggling and when we walked into the living room there was a huge white full size concert grand piano. I kid you not! We stood in amazement looking at it and the landlady asketh us;

'So do any of you play the piano?'

The boys threw a couple of looks at me to which I replied;

'No.'

I had visions of coming back after the show to find the laughing landlady waiting up ready to play piano duets. Methinks not somehow (I wouldn't have been able to anyway. I'm shite at the piano sure). Me room was nice though, a big spacious attic room so all in all not bad digs at all. Cool. The rehearsals went well too and then it was in front of me;

OPENING NIGHT! Wednesday the 7th of September 2005, one of the most harrowing nights of me stage life. Opening nights are bad enough normally; the nerves, not being sure how the audience will take it etc etc. but this was feckin loolah! I was standing side-stage waiting to go on and it hit me that I was about to go on stage with only a week and a half's rehearsals in me and I was still shaky on one of my speeches. This is not normal practice. This is the actor's nightmare, and if I was feeling like that, how the hell we're the other lads feeling, Jesus they had shitloads more lines than I had sure. This could easily be the most disastrous night of me career, where I just utterly fall flat on me face and make an utter bollox of absolutely everything. I didn't. That happened the second night.... But we'll get to that in a minute. To be utterly honest that opening night is all a bit of a blur. The adrenalin was racing and it seemed like I got through the show on pure instinct. All outside distractions disappeared and I just had to let the auld body do it, shit or bust, throw yourself into it. Come the curtain call I couldn't believe I'd gotten through it in one piece. There was even a couple of laughs for the shepherdesses scene (although that might have been more for me belly sticking out of the belly top than any kind of comic timing on my part). But god what a sense of relief! I had done it so now I knew I could do it. Only one thing for it so; Beamish get thee to a pub. Pints flew around the place straight into grateful (and deserving) gobs. And when we were turned out onto the streets of Swindon there was no way I was goin home;

'Come on lads, anyone for another couple?' drunkenly quoth I.

This was greeted with mutters of 'don't think so', 'bit tired' and 'Maybe tomorrow night', until the maestro Ed Hall turned to me and said;

'I'll go for another couple with you Jamie.'

Whereupon all the rest of the lads miraculously found their second wind and turned back down the street to join us. Funny that. More beer was beered down in the section of Swindon which has all the pubs and clubs, i.e. the rough part of town, and Swindon is rough to start with. The next day we had a matinee and there was about 60 schoolkids and that was it, it was grand but very much a school's matinee. Which is fine because there wasn't too much pressure so. I also had a small little hangover from the whiskey the night before, so a handy show was just what the day-after-doctor ordered. I was feeling pretty good though, the show wasn't perfect but it was getting better all the time, my lines seemed to be there, and me hands had stopped sweating at the piano and I was starting to get a little bit adventurous with that as well. How bad, I was now starting to enjoy this gig, even if we were in Swindon. I enjoyed it all the way up until about 7.30. That's when I was suddenly struck down with;

SECOND NIGHT BLUES. Thursday the 7th of September 2005, one of the most embarrassing nights of me stage life. Second night blues is a common occurrence in the theatre and shamefully I have to admit a common occurrence with me. What it means is that seeing as the cast of a show has spent all their energy and concentration on getting the first night right, they have feck all left for the following night and so the show is under par. Or another way of saying it is they all got shitfaced at the first night party and are having trouble due to the abundance of hangovers and because of that the show is a bit crap. One of my worst second nights was in Calico in the West End where I was doing a scene with Imelda Staunton (or Academy Award® Nominee Imelda Staunton as she is now known) and I wasn't feeling the best at all at all. I suddenly felt me legs giving out and I sneakily made my way towards the table that was onstage and used it to prop myself up for the rest of the scene. Classy stuff. I should call this diary: 'DIARY OF A DÉISE MAN WITH A HANGOVER IN THE LONDON TRYIN TO DO THE DRAMA.' But I digress. This night in Swindon I had the most vicious case of second night blues ever and the mad thing was it wasn't because I was in bits hungover or anything even like that, I simply forgot absolutely everything. It began with me thundering over other people's lines, then making a haimes of one of the dances (the audience wouldn't have noticed me bollox. Turning to the left when all around you are turning to the right looks feckin stupid, let no one say any different.), my fingers refused to work while playing the guitar, they still refused to work when playing the piano later on (bloody fingers! I'll break ye if ye don't start doin what ye're told..... no wait that wouldn't work!) and as for me lines? Well let's just say that Shakespeare must have been doing quadruple pirouettes wherever his grave is. Not much of the text remained as I blasted through it and it all came to a head with my final line of the night. Shakespeare wrote;

'Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born.'

Beamish said;

'Every grace of an eye some new wink will be born.'

Taxi for Beamish.

Aw no though, it was absolutely horrendous, I thought I was alright and then all of this happened, bit of a knock to the confidence but a lesson in how fear and adrenaline can really make you do anything. So what did I do? Slope off home to instantly devour the script? Not a sign! It was straight down to the urban wasteland of the late night bars of Swindon. Meself and a few of the boys hit a bar and drank vodka shots and marveled at the wildlife of Swindon (but not too much because if you were caught looking it was more than likely you'd get a slap. Actually it was fairly possible you might get a slap even if you weren't looking) but the craic was good and the cast was bonding. Well in fairness I had a good excuse as the clock edged its way to midnight cos the next day was;

ME BIRTHDAY! Friday the 9th of September 2005, I'm 29 and still goin strong (if feeling a bit rough). The first morning of the last year of me twenties was a pleasant one and I just went for a leisurely shop around the Swindon and got a few phonecalls from the usual suspects. I knew it wasn't going to be anything mad cos I had already organised a bit of a get together in the London on the Sunday night and that was going to be the proper bash. We had notes that day with Ed (thankfully he hadn't seen me fiasco the night before) we did a bit of work and just before the show, during the warm up, they gave me a cake and a card and I got all teary and I suddenly felt that I belonged to this special group of people ........ actually that's a load of horseshit but I was pleased with the cake, twas chocolate sure (had to share it though, feck sake!). The show that night went well and once more a few of us (those that weren't commuting to London) headed into town and then swiftly proceeded to head right back out of town. It was carnage in Swindon town centre we went into one pub and you could see the sweat on the walls and the dirty looks looking straight at us. Even the 6ft+ Vinnie (King of Sicilia) Leigh was feeling uneasy. This was not the place for poncey actors methinks, and then one of the stage management ladies came up with the perfect place for poncey actors: A gay club. I'm sorry could you run that past me again? Where was it she was suggesting? Twas a gay club. Nah, still can't hear you. Crank up the volume there Ultan. Alright for feck sake she suggested we went to a GAY club instead! Happy! Feckin mad thing was we went. Now to be honest I have no hassle at all goin to a gay club, I'm well comfortable with me sexuality, and we'd certainly be able to have a few beers there without getting any hassle. The mad thing was the situation, I mean I never in a million birthday's thought I'd spend me 29th a) in Swindon and b) in a gay club. That's showbiz! Twas a good auld night though, we got well lashed and I didn't catch the gay. They really need to get a lock on the toilet door though.

The following day I'm in smithereens and so to cure me hangover I hop on a train to spend the day in Oxford and visit the top actor Richard Stacey and family. Nice day and a much needed rest led to a decent enough last show that night. One of the boys from Pirates (now there's a blast from the past) was unexpectedly in the audience and he didn't say I was too crap so that was cool. I hopped on the late train to London and said goodbye to Swindon, thank Jesus. Its not a great place to do Shakespeare to be honest, the feckin Gruffalo had more people at it than we did. Instantly putting it all behind me the following night I had me birthday drinks in the London, and oh Jesus what a messy messy night. Fuck I'm even embarrassed thinking about it! It consisted of me getting off of my face really quickly on whiskey. Trying to play pool drunk in Honest Dave's ('Happy birthday master. You're a bit drunk.') passing out in said pub. Waking up and then proceeding to get a taxi to all night club 'The End'. At about 3am realising that there was no sign of me girlfriend Karen, I left the club to ring her only to find that she had gone back to her flat hours ago (Worst. Boyfriend. Ever.), then when I tried to get back in, the bouncers wouldn't let me as I was too drunk. I then spent the next hour trying to get back in cause me coat and bag were in the cloakroom, the bouncers refused point blank and there was no way I was coming back the next day to find that my iPod was gone so I did the single most thick thing I could do and called the cops. Fuck sake Jamie!! I was not in my right mind and they basically laughed at me anyway. In the end the bouncer went and got me flatmate Gary and he dragged me home. The following morning I had died and gone to hell I was in such pain, but I rang 'The End' to sort out getting my bag and coat back.

'Are you the guy that called the cops?'

Shite! I gave a sheepish excuse about there being valuable property in the bag and I was worried about it. They said there was no sign of it but they would keep looking and call me back. I was starting to get worried now. Just for pig iron I gave Honest Dave's a ring.

Me bag and coat were there all along.

Fuck! I rang 'The End' and told them that it was alright one of my friends had picked up the bag for me and hung up before they could give out. Haven't been back there in a while! Jesus though what a crazy week. The next week would be crazy as well but in a different way as we took the high road to;

VENUE 2: GLASGOW!

The day after the end of world hangover I found meself in the early hours sitting on a train for the best part of 6 hours. Needless to say there was a lot of sleeping. I arrived in Glasgow Central to be greeted by Roy Collins' cousin Jeannette who I was staying with. I was worried I wouldn't recognise her as the last time I had seen her I was seven sheets to the wind at a party in Roy's house. I needn't have worried, she had some Collins' head on her. She and her daughter, Elaine, were well sound (although I was having a bit of trouble understanding Elaine's unreal Glasgow accent. I needed subtitles). They gave me a lift up to the theatre and said they'd come and collect me after the show. The Theatre Royal in Glasgow is a stunning theatre, no red brick barn this, and the booking was decent for the week, which was a huge help. The first night in Glasgow was the first time I started to realise how good the show was and could be. The audience loved it, the reaction was so much better than the previous week and because of that we all raised our game, well I remembered me lines at least! After the show the girls were waiting at stage door to take me back. OK no drink for me, that's grand though I needed a break. And then we went on this trip. Roy had said to me that she lives 'Really Close', now I assumed he meant really close to the city centre, not really close to the outskirts of town. Once we hit the motorway I knew I was in trouble and started to ask about ways of getting back at night. The last train was at 11.15. Shite. The last direct bus to the town they lived in was at about 10.15. Double shite. This was not good as it severely hampered hanging around for sauce after the show. What was I gonna do? They informed me that there was a later bus but that it didn't bring me all the way but I could get off at a certain point and they would drive down and pick me up. Now I couldn't be asking them to do that at two or three in the morning could I? No. And I couldn't very well look for other digs as they had been so nice to leave me stay in the first place. I resigned myself to a very unexpectedly sober week in Glasgow.

How wrong can you be?

Nearly the minute we got back to the house Jeannette had a bottle of Bacardi out and I got to bed in the merry old land of rum at about 2am. Whoa, here we go! And so it continued.

The following night I stayed for a couple of beers with the boys after the show and got the later bus back, i.e. the one that only goes three quarters of the way there. I was shitting meself that I'd get off at the wrong spot cause the driver hadn't a notion, but a sound gentleman told me where to jump out and I found myself on a country road in Themiddleofnowhere, Glasgow and Elaine (who had told me to let her know when I got off the bus and she'd drive and collect me) had her phone off. Right so, time for some orienteering skills, actually no, time for some geek skills. I walked down to the next road that had a name and used my mobile to go on t'internet and get me directions. It only feckin worked! And although it was a bit of a walk down an unlit country road I got there in the end. Well pleased with me ingenuity I walked into the house to find that Elaine had taken off in the car to look for me. Shite, I must have missed her. Not to worry though as the bottle of Bacardi was out again. Well we had to prepare ourselves as the next night we all went clubbing, and I do mean all. A cast of 12 men and Elaine and Jeanette! They had gone to see the show that night and were looking at me a bit funny. It may have had something to do with the belly top, dress and simulated blowjob. Possible. But then they didn't go to the theatre very often. We all went to this mad place called Frankenstein's and in fairness the two girls were the hit of the night, all the lads got a great buzz off them (especially Elaine and the fact that she had her name tattooed veeery low down her back. I'll stop right there officer). Twas also the first time we'd all been out as a group and I could see then and there that this was gonna be a messy tour. Bring it on boy! The night ended with Vinnie on his knees at the window of the car begging to be brought back to the house where there was more booze only for elaine to take off at speed, and Al 'Go Cleomenes' Craig jumping on the bonnet of the car at the traffic lights only to be shunted off onto the ground with skillful drunk-dodging driving. We got back to the house and the bottle of Bacardi seemed to walk into the room of its own accord. The next day Vinnie had a gash on his left temple which he didn't remember getting and Al's knee was in bits. You should never take on Glasgow girls!

Now it wasn't just constant boozing in Glasgow. When on tour its always nice to check out the culture that's on offer where you are and in fairness I did a bit. I love the architecture in Glasgow and always make a point of heading over to the Rennie Mackintosh museum in The Lighthouse. Right enough of that boring shite, more beer anyone? Well actually the end of the week in Glasgow wasn't as mad at all. I was getting good at sorting out the bus journeys home and being picked up at the right spot. Although on the Saturday night the bus was packed out and there was a load of fellas sitting down the back singing IRA songs. I just shut me mouth and kept an eye out for me escape route. Bacardi certainly became me friend that week and best of all the show went really well. The reaction was excellent and the houses were pretty good for such a big theatre and there was no big mad stories of cock ups Beamish style that week. I was starting to settle into it bit by bit by bit and starting to enjoy it more and more. The end of the week came and I bought the girls some chocolates and a bottle of Bacardi for leaving me stay. It was the least I could do sure, we'd gotten through about three as it was. I got me final lift off Elaine to the airport and we winged our way back to London. I was going to miss Glasgow a bit to be honest as the show had gone so well and the craic was good. That wasn't going to be the case in;

VENUE 3: PORTSMOUTH!

I had spent me day off packing. Not just to go to Portsmouth but to leave the flat in Kilburn. When I was offered the tour I tried to find someone to sublet my room but that turned out to be near impossible and so I said to Gary that I was going to move out altogether, he was cool with that and as luck would have it a friend of his from Dublin took the room straight away. Grand. It meant that I wouldn't have to be paying rent while I was jumping around the world and on me day off if I was in London I could stay with Karen or one of the lads. It would be huge help. So it was me last week of living there and of course I wasn't even gonna be there. I was in the lovely seaside town of Portsmouth. Seaside? Yes. Lovely? Nah! We couldn't believe our eyes when we got to the theatre. A few years previous the whole back of the theatre had burned down. they had saved the auditorium but everything from the prosc. arch back was gone. So some fella came in built a new back wall across the prosc, erected a tiny stage in the stalls and put 2 portacabins out the back for dressing rooms. Mad. So there was seriously no room backstage as there was no backstage full stop! Me digs were alright though. Twas your typical seaside B&B but she gave me a double room instead of the single I had booked and for the same money, so that was cool. Although breakfast was only served until 8.30 so that was well shite.

The first night went great. Loads in and there was a real buzz in the crowd. It may have been a small space but its intimacy kind of helped the show. We ended up in some club called Bliss, where there was a pole but it wasn't a pole dancing club so any random lack (or fella) could get up and give it a turn. The talent on the pole varied wildly but the first night there was one girl who looked like she was a professional on it. It was well dodgy but we went back every night. Apart from that it was a pretty quiet week drink wise. There's feck all to do in Portsmouth so I used my days to sort out my tax receipts early (GOOD call) and unfortunately the first night buzz was an absolute fluke as we averaged about 60 people in the audience a night (in which there was, one night, a rather large lady with a beard!). Although it was quiet enough drink wise, there were still occurrences of an interesting nature. Second night in I came out of the theatre and was approached by a girl who congratulated me on the show. It turned out she worked front of house but had just finished drama school in the London and was asking me all sorts of questions about the business i.e. where did I train, do I have an agent, does Ed Hall only do all male productions, do I find it difficult to get work? Now I have no bother being asked such things and I was that curious meself when I came out of drama school but she kept me talking for ages and I was hangin for a pint. So after a bit I said me goodbyes and wished her the best of luck, and she reached into her bag and said;

'Actually before you go I just wonder if you wouldn't mind passing this on to Ed Hall the next time you see him.'

She handed me a copy of her CV.

'I'm sorry I wouldn't be prepared to do that.' I told her through a dropped jaw.

This is so not the done thing. I'm not sure what she was thinking, but to imagine that a complete stranger would be willing to pass on her CV to their director she was obviously fuckin high. Or desperate. Her face fell when I said no, I tried to be nice and suggested that the best way to get the CV to Ed was by sending him a letter care of the Watermill Theatre. I felt sorry for her, this business can make you do mad things out of desperation. Best of luck to her sure, its never feckin easy, I just hope she's stopped trying to give her CV to strange men. The following morning after another night of watching crap amateur pole dancing I was bleary eyed at breakfast (I'd paid for it so I was going to have it!) and I was looking at the family photos that are a prerequisite for every B&B dining room and lo and behold who do I see in one of them only the only decent pole dancer in Portsmouth. The chick from the club on the first night must've been me landlady's granddaughter. Ha ha. Jesus I doubt she knows what her little angel is getting up to!!

The phone went twice that week and both times it was the dear agent. Hurrah! Or not. First call;

'You're not going to get a recall for Avenue Q.'

Shite! Damn my all night sessions! Damn them to hell.

'They said there's nothing in it for you,'

Oh I must disagree.

'But they are putting you on file for Les Mis and will see you when they're recasting.'

Ha haaaa! What a crock of shit! When I first came out of drama school I was praying for a Les Mis audition and now when I want another show they fob me off with it. Jesus. The second call was better.

'You have an audition for Assassins in Sheffield.'

Holy shit one of me favourite shows ever! Result! Hold on though, when is it?

'Its on next Thursday in the Old Vic.'

Ah yes that'll be the Old Vic in LONDON which was just perfect because I was going to be in IRELAND! We were opening in Dublin the following Friday and all the company were flying over on Thursday but I was heading back early for a few days in the Déise on the Sunday so this was a real pain in the hole. Waitaminute though..... I was booked on a flight with the rest of the company from London on the Thursday afternoon so If I got an early flight to london that morning I could head over, do the audition and head back with everyone else. Its mad Jim, but it might just work! So I booked an 8.30am flight from Cork. Now all I needed was a lift to Cork. Assassins though. Janey I'd love a bit of Sondheim for the new year! Sure we'll see.

So the Irish leg of the tour was looming and in preparation for that I decided to make a little change in me performance. Mopsa the slutty shepherdess was now no longer going to be from the west country of blighty but from the wesht of Ireland. Basically I said fuck it, it wasn't half as funny as it should be and that had a lot to do with me being a bit shite at the accent. Normally I'm pretty good at them but I think with the rush to get the show on I learned it wrong. Plan B so. Paddy time! The gas thing was, the day I decided to first give it a go (on the friday school's matinee. Audience: 40) Simon, who was playing the other shepherdess, decided he'd try an Irish accent too. Now however bad my west country accent was it couldn't compare with his Irish. Lets just say it corpsed the Young Shepherd in the middle of the scene and didn't make it to the next show much less Dublin. Irish Mopsa, however, was here to stay. It worked a treat. So our time in Portsmouth ended with a whimper, the last night audience was about 74, wow, and I got a lift back to the London that night to do me last bit of packing and say goodbye to Co. Kilburn. It was a bit sad to be honest, I had probably lived there longer than any other place in London and I liked it a lot, but 550 sterling a month when I'm not even there smothers any sentimentality. The next morning I was on an Aer Arann special direct to me viking home. I was excited and nervous all at the same time. This was going to be my first time on stage professionally in Ireland, and not only that but in me national theatre as well. Feck. And would the Dublin Festival be as mad as the Waterford Festival? As luck would have it I was going to get the chance to compare and contrast.

They were both on at the same time.

Two festivals?

I may not come out of this alive!

35. HIT THE ROAD JACK

I hate touring.

No, I love touring.

Both statements are true. And never more so than on this gig.

After the utter mess I made of the American embassy interview I had me work cut out to show the lads in Propeller that I wasn't the Irish waster that they were rapidly beginning to believe I was. Not to worry, sure I had a week before we opened in which to cop on, knuckle down and get this fucker on its feet and not screw up. And do you know what the mad thing was?

I did. Cop on that is. Well that last week of rehearsals at least.

Jesus I was on me best behaviour. In I went to rehearsals at 10 am every day, looking at the script on the train, no books for me, too much work to do baby. God, I was even looking at the script when I was walking from the tube to the rehearsal room. Big work then from start to finish at 6pm. Then it was back on the tube home for some more looking at the script action. I was well focussed, probably through fear rather than anything else because if you stopped to think about it we opened the following Thursday. OH MY GOD!!! Right so no going out. Well very little going out. Too much to do. The main man himself was in at this stage as well, the maestro Ed Hall and he was putting us through our paces. Big time. You need to know your verse with this guy. Thankfully I had just gotten lessons offa his dad so I knew me pentameter! The funny thing as well was that I had spent the first week doing the part of the 1st Lord in RP as all the rest of the lads were English and the guy I was taking over from had used an English accent. When Ed heard me he spake thus:

'Jamie, why don't you use your own accent?'

'Sorry Ed I just thought you wanted RP, sure that's what Jules used.'

'Yes but Jules is from Luxembourg, if he'd used his own accent we wouldn't have understood a word, Shakespeare sounds great in an Irish accent, there's a real music to it.'

Go on the Irish! You see? I should have stuck to my guns instead of jumping the gun. Understandable though seeing as everything was such a rush. But I was having trouble getting Willows out of me head to be honest and I was having awful trouble with the section where I played Mopsa the Shepherdess. Oh yes boy, seeing as this was an all male company I was playing a lack and one of the ugliest ones you've ever laid eyes on. I was stink!! If I sent you pictures you may get arrested. That week I had a costume fitting for my skirt, bra and belly top. No seriously. And before I got into my Sunday best the designer asked me if I'd ever played a woman on stage before.

'Why yes.' replieth I nonchalantly, 'Twice actually.'

Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about them. That said a lot of the guys in this company had played women before, but that was because they were in an all male shakespearean ensemble. I had done it in The Dream and Willows so I had no excuse only that it was in the script. Yep, that's my get out. But I don't know, you'd think after seeing how pig ugly I looked as a woman in the Dream that no director in their right mind would give me a dress to wear ever again. Hang on though I'm a red (blue) blooded man from the Déise and I'm talking about wearing dresses!?!

God what the hell am I doing with my life?!?

Its art love, get used to it. (And I shouldn't really mention about the simulated blow job I was supposed to give one of the lads in one of the songs. Its alright though he kept his pants on. More on that later.) But I digress... Like I said Willows was still in me head because I was playing Mopsa like I was still doing Toad and that was no good to no one. Also all the rest of the lads were using a west country accent in that section and it took me ages to get it anywhere near right, or at least close enough to be getting on with, which wasn't close enough for me by a big way. We'll see so, just keep working. The piano playing was going ok too, that said I was practicing it every time we had a break. At one point though I hit a brick wall with it. Not because I couldn't play it, I just didn't know why I was playing it. Me man I took over from had written and played a piece of music for the final scene and they had sent me the dots he had put down on paper. In a notes session Ed brought the subject of the piano piece up and he said it wasn't working. I told him I just couldn't get inside the composer's head. And he said:

'Well don't, change it as much as you want and make it work for Jamie Beamish.'

Ah right! Gotcha now. And at that point I felt on it. I was no longer taking over a part, I was in that room to create my version of it. Create something new, not mimic what had been done before. And then I really pulled out the finger and the work was good. The show was REALLY good and there was no way I was going to be like some third wheel. And as I was beginning to be happy with the show the phone rang. Can anyone guess who it might be?:

'They want to see you for Avenue Q but the auditions are going to be the week after next.' Quoth mine agent.

Shite. Avenue Q was a musical taking the piss out of Sesame Street (well it would with song titles like 'Everyone's a little bit racist' and 'the internet is for porn') which was transferring from Broadway to London and I really wanted to be in it. This is one funny fucker of a show. That's good, why say shite then? The week after next I was going to be in Glasgow. Ah right. Shite. Not a hope of getting back to do the audition there, just too far away. So I was pissed off with that and of course something else reared its ugly head as it was always bound to do.

Digs.

Fuck it! Alright you know at this stage how much looking for digs wrecks me head and this was no exception. When I took this show the big draw for me of course was the International venues, America, Spain, Dublin (its mad thinking of going to Ireland as touring internationally, its just going home like.). There were however six british venues and we had to get digs for five of them. The digs list had been sitting there untouched by me for the first week and a half of rehearsals. It was taunting me with its vile contents written by vicious housewives, whose spare room is their social life. Aaaaaagh!!! Jesus! Noooooo!!! I was seriously considering wasting a loada money and just getting a hotel, but I just couldn't justify it. I had a quick look at the digs list so and nearly got sick, ah yeah its as bad as I thought!! Aw no, somebody help me through this crisis! Thank Jesus somebody did. As will always happen the conversation one day got around to 'Have you sorted any digs for Swindon yet?' and I meekly replied in the negative. Swindon, the first week of the tour was rapidly approaching and I had fuck all. Bill Buckhurst, prince of Bohemia, turned to me and said that I should ring the lady he's staying with as he thinks she has a spare room and there's three of them staying there anyway. Hmm veeery possible. Its never as bad when there's other people out of the cast staying there. I gave her the bell and although she sounded a bit mad she said she had a loft room and it was £50 for the week. Sound! I'll buy that for a dollar! Or 50 anyway. Well 50 pound that is. Feck it, whatever, I had digs thank Jesus. Now what about the venue after that? Glasgow? Glasgow is notoriously hard for getting digs. The last time I toured there a few of us had a flat in the Gorbals, which is worse than the Bronx, or Ballybeg for that matter, and one of the boys got a kick outside a chipper while I was inside waiting for me smoked sausage. Like the true friend I was I hung on till I got the sausage until we pegged it home for fear of repeat kicking. So I wasn't goin there again. So where oh where could I go? Its at times like this, when you're desperately wracking your brains, that drunken conversations, which you thought lost to the mists of time and alcohol, just pop right back into your head. I was thrown back to a certain night of large bottles in Muldoons whereupon I was introduced to a cousin of nice guy Roy Collins (this boy has a cousin for every occasion his family is so big). She told me she lived in Glasgow with her daughter and I said I'd toured to Glasgow and liked it very much and she said the next time i tour there to give her a shout and I could stay with her for nothing. Twas an offer I couldn't refuse sure. A couple of texts to Roy and a phonecall to the lady herself, Jeanine, and I was sorted. Two down, one to go this side of Dublin. Portsmouth was the last port of call before the first international venue and I decided to treat meself. I hopped on the tourism website and past all the beautiful pics of sunny Portsmouth I found meself a B&B. 25 a night, but sure I was only there for 4 nights and feck it sure tis grand to have a little luxury. Luxury? Twas only a B&B for fecksake not the Waldorf!!

With that huge weight off me mind I enjoyed the last couple of days of rehearsals. Twas all going well actually; I had digs sorted, I kind of knew me lines after a fashion, Ben Hennessy had rung me to see if I wanted to write the music for a production of Peter Pan back in the Deise for Christmas (now that could be verrry possible), and amazingly the last run through on the Friday night before we opened went really well all things considered. Ed seemed happy, and decided to drop a little bombshell:

'There's a very big possibility that this show will be going into The Arts Theatre in the West End for a Christmas season after the tour finishes.'

Ah no! Not only was I being brought to places I always wanted to see and play, this gig may actually be my return to the West End. Best. Gig. Ever. And after giving us that nugget he told us the next time he would see us would be in Swindon the following Tuesday. Whoa three days off! Well not really, the agent had gotten back to me about Avenue Q;

'They've changed the audition day, they'll see you on Tuesday morning, first thing.'

Sound.

I could do the audition in the morning and then hop on the train to Swindon straight after. That gave me three days to get my shit together and be as castable as humanly possible at the audition. I selected me two songs for them, they asked for a funny one (Poisoning Pigeons in the Park) and a ballad (She's a Woman). Bed early for me the night before the audition too. Me bollox! As fate would have it the night before the audition (and start of the Winter's Tale tech) was the Regent's Park end of season party. Oh no. This could be mayhem. But hold on though I can be a good boy. I'll only have a few beers, enjoy the craic for a few hours then say me goodbyes and head home early. Oh I went home early all right ........ as in early in the morning!!! The party was great craic as usual and the mock awards were given (I didn't get one, but our cursing badger did!) and there beer was free and flowing. Now in fairness I did have a few beers but not so many as to get blind drunk as in previous years. It was the leaving part I couldn't get me head around. Then again I never can really, I'm always worried I'll miss something. So I ended up once more on the bandstand in the Park, fairly sober now, until about 5 in the morning. Jesus you'd swear I had nothing on the next day, much less an audition and the start of a feckin tech! I sat on the bandstand with the rest of the Willows cast (we were the only ones to have any kind of staying power sure!) and at 5 bells I said to meself tis time to head home and sober up. I went to a garage and got a bite to eat and got the bus home. At this stage there seriously was no point in going asleep so I had me a shower packed my bag and watched BBC News 24 until GMTV kicked in, and then hit the tube over to the Theatre Royal Stratford East where the Audition was on. I arrived at the theatre just after 10, buzzing on the lack of sleep to be honest, only to bump into the production manager for Willows who was now doing a new job here.

'Hi Jamie, what're you doing here?' Quoth he.

'Well Stewart boy, I'm here for me Avenue Q audition sure.' Quoth I with glassy eyes.

'No man, I just checked the list, you're on tomorrow.'

No fuckin way was I! I went straight in to see what the story was here and the girl taking names for the audition also said I was on at 10am the next day. Aw no this is some serious cock up! I explain to her that I need to do it today as I was rehearsing all day in Swindon the next day. I could see the mention of Swindon didn't impress her. Thankfully she was able to sort it out that I could be squeezed in at 11am instead. Right, OK, it'll make me late for the tech but feck it I was there I may as well do it.

(Ok time to pause the tape for a little public information announcement. Avenue Q was being co-produced by the Theatre Royal Stratford East and Cameron Mackintosh. Now the latter fella you may have heard of, he's a bit famous. I also don't have the best of track records when it comes to auditions for his shows. I made an absolute dogs dinner of a Phantom audition once and as for my My Fair Lady audition a few years ago. Well his head of casting told my agent that the reason I wasn't getting a recall was because I just wasn't very interesting and I had yet to have another audition for this man since then. It also shot my confidence to shit for a few weeks, and I really questioned whether I should bother still doing this job, up until I got another job that is. But it was alright this time though because the Theatre Royal were doing the initial casting so I was calm with the thought that he wouldn't be there. Normal service may now resume.)

I walked into the audition room only to find the head of casting for Cameron Mackintosh sitting behind the desk. Aw shit on it anyway! I was now shitting meself worse than I have in an audition in a LONG time. Suddenly everything was stacked against me:

1. I hadn't been to bed yet.
2. I'd caused hassle because according to them I turned up on the wrong day (which was a loada shit. I believe me agent on this one!).
3. I was stressed because I was going to be late for the tech.
4. I hadn't been to bed yet.
5. Sitting behind the desk was a man who really didn't rate me whatsoever.
6. I was singing the exact same song that he found not very interesting in the first place.

I walk into the room say hello to himself and the lady with him and sit down on the chair in front of the table whereupon he looks at me and goes;

'So what are you going to sing for us today?'

Jesus I'd forgotten how shite auditions for musicals were, no little bit of chat about what you've been up to, just straight in, sing the song and feck off! No point in sitting down so. I gave the music for Pigeons to the pianist, told her how I was doing it and what speed, she then proceeded to play it at half that speed. Brilliant, a bumnotes behind the piano is all I feckin needed. I stopped her and set her straight and after that it went pretty good. The pipes were in decent shape given the lack of sleep, I think me vocal chords still thought it was the day before! Anyway it went well enough for them to ask me for my second song, which is the first time the man from Del Mackintosh has ever asked for more. Nice one, the nerves were beginning to subside and I lashed into She's a Woman from Kiss of the Spiderwoman. This also goes well and the pianist doesn't fuck it up too badly either. And then when it finishes the man from Del Mackintosh he say:

'Thank you very much, that's all we need to hear today.'

Nuts.

Dreaded words if ever I heard them. The standard nice line that says fuck off with a smile. Not sure that that went that well, ah well! What's always good about doing a bad audition when you're already working is that it doesn't feel so bad, its not like you've been out of work for ages and your life depends on getting this job. Its easy to put it behind you and get back to the job in hand. Aw shit yeah the job in hand, sure I had a tech to be slightly late for! So I ran out out of the theatre, bag in hand, headed off to Paddington and boarded a train, which was funnily enough the Bath train that I knew so well, but I wasn't going there. Oh no. I was going somewhere far more dangerous. The first port of call on the Magical Mystery tour that would be the Winter's Tale:

Swindon.

Some of us have all the luck.

34. TOADING IN THE RAIN?

I loves working at the Open Air Theatre in Regent’s Park, don’t you?

Its a nearly 2000 seat amphitheatre right in the middle of Regent’s Park in the Centre of the London and listen lads there’s no roof on this baby. When they say Open Air they really mean it. Sure the back wall of the stage is just a load of trees. What a place though. Easily the most welcoming theatre in London and a great place to see a show whether it be a Shakespeare or a Musical or (as was my case again this year) a kids show. It was the place where I first appeared professionally onstage and I’ll never forget the shock I got as I ran out onto that stage with the rest of the Pirates of Penzance only to be looking straight at a full house and because it wasn’t dark yet you could see every single one of the audience. I nearly messed meself. And the minute we arrived on the stage the audience burst into spontaneous applause ... and we hadn’t done anything yet. They just knew they were in for a good night. This was what it was all about I thought to meself. I don’t know if its ever gotten better than that particular moment. Since then I’ve been back to the Park every year. The following year we went back for a night to do some bits from Pirates for the 70th anniversary concert. The year after (2003) I did the full season there, two Shakespeares and a musical and its that season that I really think turned me career around. It got me the Lion in the Wizard of Oz, it led me to work with Ed Hall in the West End and it got me an Ian Charleson Award nomination. How bad. Last year I cagily came back to play Toad in Wind in the Willows only to find that it was one of the best things I ever did and so I was back again this year reprising the role. All this from the artistic director, Mr. Ian Talbot, seeing me in a tiny little thing in Greenwich and having a chat with me in the bar after. Its been VERY good to me in other words.

‘That’s all deadly’ I hear you shut me up, ‘But there’s no feckin roof man, what if it rains?’

Ah yes. The rain. Well the deal with that is they have a hotline direct to the UK Met Office, no seriously they do, and if it rains, whether before or during the show, they find out if its down for the night or if its just a shower. If its raining before the show they’ll hold the curtain (what curtain????) for about 20 minutes after which they’ll cancel the show and the audience (that have turned up) get a voucher to see any show that season or for the next 10 years (that’s for real as they did have an Australian couple come back 8 years after the show they went to see got cancelled and they got their replacement ticket!). It’s trickier once the show has started though and they will try and keep it going for as long as possible. There was a company manager there once and the way he used to gauge whether to stop a show or not was to stand on the picnic lawn front of house and if the rain was so bad it was dripping off his nose well then he would make the call to stop it. But only then. If the show is stopped during a performance the Deputy Stage Manager announces over the ‘God’ mic; ‘Can the actors please leave the stage.’ Then the audience are asked to move to the cover of the bar area and they wait 20 minutes to see if the show is cancelled or if they can continue.

So you are completely at the mercy of the elements.

How bad you might think, sure that would have to mean a few nights off what with the infamous English summer. Ah yeah but the thing is you still have to turn up at the theatre, do your warm up, get into costume and be absolutely ready to do the show. So its fairly disappointing to be told the show is off when you’re all geared up to do it and if you’re in the middle of a show its worse, its a real anti-climax. And while you might get to the bar earlier and we always joke about wishing we had a show off, we never really mean it. And you’d be surprised how the weather will change in a second. One night of Midsummernight’s Dream (after the best summer since the 70’s so we hadn’t lost a show) It started pelting it down with rain at 7pm and didn’t let up. That was it we thought, no show!! We were so excited as we were all knackered after a gruelling season and two of the lads ran out backstage in their underwear and did a rain dance. The rain promptly stopped at 7.55. They must have done the wrong feckin dance! And sure enough the show went on at 8.15 and we got all the way through it. I mean there was kids sitting on the grass banks in black sacks it was so damp. The audience loved it. Lunatics!!!

Fasting forward to this summer and sure I had just finished the mental month of travelling and I have to say, while just doing one show for two weeks seemed like a holiday, I wouldn’t have said no to a bit of rain and a couple of shows off before I started doubling up again. Famous last words boy. But more on that later. The show had opened well and the start of the second week the reviews had started to come in, and they were mostly good. All good for me thank god but the Independent was particularly good and especially for the director which I was delighted with. She had really endeavoured to move it on from last year rather than just trying to recreate it so she deserved the nice notice. Nice one. That said our cursing badger did not go unnoticed, quoth Charles Spencer;

(Badger) “also inadvertently provided the biggest laugh of the performance when a technical mishap brought forth a very audible cry of "Oh, shit!“ One shudders to imagine what Kenneth Grahame would have made of that, but I .. report that it was undoubtedly the highlight of the show as far as my subversive son was concerned.”

He took it in good humour then, as did everyone else really as there was no complaints this year (unlike last year with the rude suggestion on the toast and the page 3 picnic basket incident. But I’ve promised not to go into that. We Willows people have a well bad reputation!). Not sure about the biggest laugh of the afternoon part, what am I busting me green arse doing so? Ah well, but thankfully the weather was with us and stayed pretty good. For the next week and a half we certainly got through every show and the most we had were a few drizzles, nothing major. Good stuff. And it was going well, the kids were loving it. Although houses were down a bit from last year but I have to say that had a fair bit to do with the terrorist attacks. People were afraid to come into London. Big time. I was sitting in the office at the park one day when a teacher called to try and cancel a block booking of kids. Her reason? She didn’t feel safe bringing the kids into the centre of London at the moment. OK its a justified fear I suppose but a bullshit attitude. If you let this stop you getting on with life then they’ve really won haven’t they? I don’t know, its a no win situation. Shit! Anyway we were getting good coverage in the press, actually we were getting more coverage than we expected. At the end of the second week I saw the funniest thing ever. The chief weasel himself had been out on the gay, as was his wont to do, and he happens upon a free gay listings magazine called QX. Having a look in the back he espies a listing for Wind in the Willows, surely it can’t be our show? It certainly fuckin is;

COMEDY
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
The Open Air Theatre
Regent’s Park, NW1
To 27th August
Tel: 0870 060 1811
FABULOUS, irreverent take on the ever-
green, pastoral kiddies’ classic, set in the
open air with vile, lime-green Toad costumes
and a radiant Julian Clary.

Ahhhhhhhhhh ha ha ha ha!! I was GONE! We were all gone. There’s a million things wrong with that listing and they’re all funny. I mean we were a kids show in a gay magazine!! ‘Irreverent take’? One of the criticisms of the show was that it was too traditional. ‘Vile, lime green Toad costumes’? Alright, the lime green was spot on, but vile? I thought I looked rather fetching! But the best ever was the ‘Radiant Julian Clary’? What the fuck?? I mean, I’m sure I’d know if that fella was in the show for Christ’s sake. The name of the Actor playing Badger was a well known older Shakespearean actor by the name of Julian CURRY! Ahhhhh hahahahaha! Some jeer. That poor fecker was already after swearing in a kids play in front of the national press and now he was being mistaken for the biggest queen in showbiz!!! His wife would not be happy. But sure we kept it as our own little secret, no point in upsetting the poor man. That said it was the source of a fair bit of craic and often was the time when Badger was having a speech and I would lean over to Ratty or Moley and whisper in their ear;

‘Ooooh Mrs. Clary’s minty dear.’

Top notch jeering material! And he hadn’t a clue. Although he does now if he reads this. It kept us going anyway! The only thing that worried me is if we got a load of only gays in the village coming to see the show expecting to see me in green leather. Nope, never gonna happen.

Another good thing about doing the show again this year was that people who didn’t get a chance to see it last year now had no excuse! So some of the lads came, which was cool and even cooler me Mammy and Nanny were coming over to see it. Now its always great to see them, but its also well stressful because I feel responsible for them while they’re staying with me. They came over (with me godson Paul) the 3rd weekend of the show. They were arriving on the Thursday, seeing the show on the Friday and flying back the Saturday evening. That itinerary was carefully worked out by me so there was two chances to see the show, if anything happened on the Friday they still had the possibility of the Saturday morning show. But sure the week had gone without any real weather problems and they arrived on the Thursday to a gorgeous summer’s evening. I brought them on a little sight seeing trip around the London, all the old favourites; Big Ben, the London Eye, Piccadilly Circus, Waterloo Bridge, The Royal national Theatre (they didn’t give a shit about that one) and the balmy evening ended up with meself and Gary and me mother on a session ending with drinking out the back garden till 3 in the morning. Now it was so warm we didn’t even have coats on us out there and I went to bed (or couch at least) safe in the knowledge that we’d definitely have a show the next day.

How wrong can you be.

I woke up to the sound of tap dancing. Aw Jesus that’s not a time step its fucking rain!!! I couldn’t believe it, it was lovely last night, now it was lashing! Ah Christ! This is well cat, but you never know though, like I said the weather can change in a second. 3 hours later I was sitting in me dressing room and it hadn’t changed. Still pissing it down. I was running around the theatre getting the vibe as to whether we were going on or not and the signs were not good. I let the management know that I had family over from Ireland, not that that was going to make a blind bit of difference, and I had a bit of a pray. That didn’t work either. I was sitting half dressed backstage without me face on waiting to hear whether they were going to see it or not, when the company manager came in with more bad news. There was kids in who had won a competition to see the show and get their photos taken with Toad, Ratty and Mole. I was in foul enough humour as it was and in zero mood to have to slap on the green and be nice to kids. I asked her was it ok if I left the make up off and just wore the suit? She was cool under the circumstances. In fairness they waited a full half hour before they finally called off the show. Shit on it anyway. All the boys were well cool saying even though they wanted the show off they really  wanted it to happen as I had family in. It was nice of them to lie. So I had to get on the rest of the costume, throw on a smile and head out to these kiddywinks. Actually I put on more than a smile, I ended up putting on the complete face. Sure it wasn’t these kids fault that it was raining and there was no point in me going out there like the grinch and ruining their day even more. Well me Mammy and Nanny and Paul got to see me in full costume at least, so that was something if the show didn’t happen the next day. That was the final hope of course, the next morning. Its always a risk when they come to the Park that the weather would be against them, but this was their third time coming over and it was the first time this happened and sure I’d be devastated if they travelled all the way over and didn’t even get to see the show (thank Christ I’m not from Australia). But that was in the hands of God, so I had a quiet night that night so as not to piss him off and woke up the next day to see a half cloudy sky. Half cloudy!! That’s good enough for me sure. By the time I got to the theatre and was doing the warm up the sun was even trying to peek through. Nice one. The show was sold out that day but I had sorted out getting them onto the directors bench (in fairness if they hadn’t let them in Andy would’ve had another show on as Toad!) and we were on!! Not a sign of a bit of rain. Not the sunniest day but I didn’t care. Also I was shitting meself as I always am when the family are in, but it wasn’t a bad show so how bad. Afterwards I brought them around town for a bit of a shop and then out to the airport with them and the stress was over.  It all worked out well in the end thank god. No seriously, thank God. Then I went out and got smashed with the cast and crew in Adam Street so I’m sure God is out with me again.

But now the two weeks grace was over and I was back to doubling up. That Monday was the first day of rehearsals for The Winter’s Tale, the doozy of a job. The big problem was that there was only two weeks rehearsals for the four new boys to go into it. Well two weeks for everyone else but I was still doing Willows so I was only available in the mornings. This was not good. Add to this the fact that like always I had barely looked at the script and had a passing glance at the DVD of the show they sent me and there was a serious disaster possible to happen. I may not make it to Swindon much less Dublin or New York! And how did that first week go? Not too well boy. The first day was grand cos all we did was music in the morning and sure if there’s one thing I’m comfortable with its that. Also I was in good voice from doing Willows so I seemed to make a good impression which is always important on the first day. They all seemed like a great bunch of guys and a few of them had seen Calico and one of them had brought his kids to see Willows the previous year and was well excited when he realised I was Toad (I was later to find out that this was actually the nicest man on the planet, Bob Barrett).  All good but the fecking lines were NOT going in. I was still big time in Toad mode. Ed hall wasn’t there himself that week thank god, his assistant Heather was but I know her from Calico and she’s no pushover, and all I could think was that I was making a real fool of meself in front of these guys, I was so under prepared, and I was the new guy with the least to learn. Jesus! On the Thursday I had a day off from Willows so I was looking forward to having a full day doing Winter’s Tale, get me really into the swing of it. They had also sorted out that our interviews at the American embassy to get our work visas was going to happen that morning too and the plan was to go there at 7am to be able to get to rehearsals for 10. Now on the Wednesday we had planned a company curry for Willows but that was ok, I wasn’t going to go mad because of everything I had to do the next day. Then after the show on Wednesday I had to head back down to Winter’s Tale rehearsals to get all my forms for the interview the next day. One of the sheets they gave me was a revised tour schedule. And there was something strange at the end after the final dates in Aberystwyth: Dec. 7th - 12th Guangzhou, China.

So sorry what now?

I asked the company manager Anthony what the craic was and he said;

‘Oh I’m sorry you mustn’t have been here when we confirmed it. We’re going to China.’

NO WAY!! As far as I was concerned the tour finished on the 3rd of December in Aberystwyth, now I find out that its been extended and not to any auld venue .... fuckin CHINA!! Ah sure I had to celebrate then for feck sake. I sped back up to the park and lashed into the whiskey and then lashed into the curry and then lashed into the cheap wine at the theatre bar and finally lashed into more whiskey till all hours in good auld Shutts. I rolled into bed at 4am twisted, knowing I had an interview or something to go to, and rolled out of bed at 9.15am. When I got hold of me watch I didn’t realise I was holding it upside down and was wondering how it was that I’d woken up an hour before I went to bed. Then I saw the clock on me laptop and I went white.

I’d missed me fuckin interview at the embassy.

Aw Jesus!!!!!! The phone rang. Of course it wasn’t the agent;

‘Jamie its Matt Flynn. Where the hell are you? We’ve been and finished and all. What’s up?’

‘Aw Jesus Matt I’ve just woken up! Me alarm never went off.’ ..... (I’d been too drunk to set the bastard!)

‘You stupid dickhead, get over there quick. We’ll let them know at rehearsals.’

Now I felt really stupid and what an impression I was making in this company. I hopped on the tube and rang the company manager who was well cool thank god. I got to the American Embassy after 10 to see the place chocablock with people. There was no hassle with me going in but I’d now have to wait me turn. And wait I did. 4 feckin hours! Not only that but 4 feckin hours with a bitch of a hangover!! Aw man it was a personal hell that I deserved every minute of and I was just praying to god (him again) that everything would be ok with me application and they wouldn’t cop that I was severely shook and not let me into their country. Finally me name was called out and I went to meet this lady who was incased in a booth behind bulletproof glass. That’s good she wont smell the booze and curry so. And she went on to ask me a load of stupid questions which I only made worse when she asked me what I was playing and I told her one of my parts was a woman. I thought I was making a little joke of the fact that I was in an all male production but she looked at me well weird and had to have a chat with her colleague. Finally she came back and said she hoped I would have a nice time in her country.

Sweet.

Jesus I got through it. What was worse than all that of course was having to head to rehearsals then and put up with some serious jeering off the lads. The King of Sicilia proclaimed;

‘I can see your going to be trouble Beamish.’

Vinny knew me well it seems. And that was the end of the first week. Heather had wanted to rehearse that Saturday but thankfully it was called off cos, I mean, I had to party for the end of Willows boy!! And twas a great final show, we were all buzzing, it had been a great run all told. Of course me old enemy the rain reared its wet head about 15 minutes off the end. I was offstage and had a look over to the stage manager and the look on his face said there’s no way we’re stopping the last show for a little drizzle like this. Good man, we wouldn’t have let him stop it anyway. Not a sign. This was the last hurrah. The show wasn’t coming back next year and this could be me last time ever playing Toad. I hope not though. And at the very end was the crowning moment. Just before the last song I had to jump up on a table to begin it. Seeing as it had been raining it was slippy and sure enough I hopped up, slipped and fell on me arse. The green face went red, but the ad libs kicked in;

‘Well it was bound to happen at some stage, I am a slimy toad after all. And now I don’t know what the hell is next.’

Not exactly Monty Python but it lightened the crowd and pulled me out of the pits of embarrassment. And that as they say was that. We said goodbye with shots and more shots in the Volunteer, then a barbecue down in the costume mistresses house (who’s flatmate has a life size Dalek in the living room), then into the West End for a bit of Teatros and back to mine to drink spirits out me back garden. The night ended as the sun came up and me and Moley were throwing stones at empty liquor bottles to try and smash them and Ratty was off his chump weeding the garden. I went to bed then and got two hours sleep, got up, went for a jog, practised cartwheels in the park, went over to the Notting Hill carnival, sobered up at 6pm and went home. NOW the show was over. We had waked it very well. But sure I had no feckin time to mourn it.

I had a show to learn in a week and a world tour to embark on.

And I had no digs sorted whatsoever.

Aw lovely.

33. TO OPEN AND CLOSE A SHOW IN THE SAME WEEK

or...........

33. PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES
 
(Well trains and automobiles at least.)

You know I had so many people tell me I was crazy when I was thinking I could probably do Much Ado and Wind in the Willows together. They breathed a sigh of relief when it looked like it wasn’t possible and jumped back on the calling me crazy bandwagon when it was actually going to happen. Turns out they were dead right. I was feckin crazy. But I didn’t care. I could do it. Even if it killed me.

I was REALLY looking forward to starting Willows. I loved doing the show last year (knackering and all as it was) and seeing as all but one of the cast were coming back to do it , well it was like a school reunion. And its a mega part. I’ve heard it referred to as the King Lear of role’s in children’s shows. Now I don’t know if I’d go that far but it wouldn’t be far off. Also because I wasn’t playing anything substantial in Much Ado (now I’m just stating fact there and not complaining.) it was nice to be able to crack into something really really meaty. So I couldn’t wait. Well actually I didn’t have to wait, the rehearsals started the Monday after the Wednesday that Much Ado opened, and it was straight back into all guns blazing. I had come back into the London on the Saturday night after doing a matinee of Much Ado and went down to the National to have a drink with Dots and his lovely wife Natalie, and sitting on the tube for the first time since the bombings was a weird experience. The way people were suddenly looking at each other. I didn’t want to even think about it to be honest. Twas good to see the man who killed Glenroe and of course I was able to boast about me swanky new job that I’d just gotten:

‘The National Dots? I’m off to New York, love.’

‘Go way boy, sure I’ve played there meself.’

Of course he had. After leaving him I went looking for me flatmate of the O’ Sullivan clan. Gary turned out to be in an all-night night-club called ‘The End’. Well sure I’ll head in for the one before I go home. The ‘one’ lasted until I was standing on Oxford Street at 6 in the morning waiting for a bus and watching the sun come up. Oh my god! And I suddenly got very worried. I mean the last time I did Willows I was losing me voice all over the shop, this time I had the added strain of doing another show at the same time and what do I do the day before I start rehearsing, go on an all night bender!!!! I really thought I was going to be fucked on the Monday.

I thought wrong thank Jesus.

Monday morning I decide to walk to rehearsals, now this had nothing to do with me being cagey about the tubes, I just thought it would be good exercise for me. Honestly. It takes about 50 minutes and its a grand stroll which takes you past Abbey Road and the famous zebra (or Beatle) crossing. I get there and meet all the old familiars and our new Badger and we craic into the read through. And all is well. AHA!! He’s back and he’s green. Then I have a sing through all me stuff with the MD and the pipes are in pretty good form let me tell ya. And the gas thing is they stay that way for the rest of rehearsals. I’m not sure what it was but I had a load more stamina than last year and the only thing I can attribute it too was the fact that I hadn’t come to it cold but was rehearsing and performing right up to and during rehearsals. Good first day to start with and then a lethal session afterwards wherein we start in the Volunteer pub (source of my poverty last year) and end up shitfaced at the bar at the Open Air Theatre drinking staff-discounted wine and free burgers!! We were back in a big way. The next day the travelling started. Now here was the thing. Could I do Willows? Of course I could, sure I had the reviews from last year still in me wardrobe. Could I do Much ado? In me sleep boy. No seriously I could do it in me sleep. Could I do them both at the same time? Feck it sure we’ll soon see. My daily schedule looked a bit like this;

8am: Wake up. Shower, shave and a slice of toast.
9am: Hit the road to Regent’s Park, and I literally mean hit the road as I was still walking to work each morning.
10am: Arrive at the Park for rehearsals and lash into a bit of mad toading.
3.30pm: Knackered after most of a day of mad toading I leave rehearsals to catch the 4pm train to Bath. On which I have a quick sandwich. Hopefully sleep, probably not. And if I do its the kind of sleep that you wake up from with dribble down your face.
5pm: Arrive in Bath. Hopefully sleep, probably not.
6.45pm: Dance warmup (I was still the all singing all dancing dance captain remember).
7.30pm: Hit the boards for a bit of the bard.
10.25pm: Curtain Call and peg it over to the pub for a quick pint.
10.47pm: The last train to London. Hopefully sleep, probably not.
12.45am: Arrive back in the London, at which time the tubes have stopped so I have to get two buses home which inevitably means me standing out in the cold on the Edgware Road and of course the battery in my iPod has decided to be dead as a dodo.
1.30am: Arrive home with a chip in pitta in hand.
2am: Hopefully sleep, probably not.
8am: Wake up. Shower, shave and a slice of toast............... and the rest you know.

Unreal. Now this was the schedule for the travelling days which I have to say wasn’t every day but was at least 4 days in the week, this was because there was only 4 shows of much ado a week. Of course when I had a night off from the play in Bath I would be rehearsing in Regent’s Park until at least 7pm if not 8.30. No rest for the wicked? I must have done some really bad shit then. The weekends became time to sleep rather than drink so the auld social life took a bit of a knock, but I did slip in some quality session time here and there. Sure you’d have to wouldn't you. Another worry at the back of me head was: what if there was a problem with the train one day. That’s the thing about trains in England, unbelievably expensive (it cost over 600 sterling for a travelcard from the London to Bath for the month) and unbelievably unreliable. Anything could happen, delays, cancellations, trains breaking down en route. I was taking a bit of a risk, and I would have been in awful trouble if I missed a show in Bath. Thankfully the first week went fine and everything was looking good for the second week.

Until the Thursday that is.

We had broken for lunch during rehearsals and I was heading over to the canteen for a bit of food and I tried to give the agent a ring. It wouldn’t connect . It said the network was busy . I tried another couple of numbers and they all said the same thing. Network busy. Now why the hell was the network overloaded? The last time that happened was the day of the tube bombs. I started to get a bit  worried. I got to the canteen to see the two Andys that were in the show walking out of there ashen faced.

‘Well boys what’s the craic where are ye off to?’

‘There’s been another terrorist attack on the tubes. A friend of mine just called me. Seemingly they used nail bombs and one of them was at Warren Street.’

I went white.

And then show must go on mode kicked in. If this had happened then they would have shut down the tube network straight away. Warren street isn’t far from Regent’s Park so who knows what roads they would close off as well. If it got worse then they’d stop all transport in and out of central London. This was worst case scenario stuff i know , but I had a show in Bath that night and there was no way I was going to let the terrorists win and stop me singing Hey Nonny feckin Nonny. I legged it over to the rehearsal rooms and told the director I had to get to Paddington as soon as possible just in case there was any problem getting out of London. As always she was great and understood completely so I pegged it west on the half hour walk to Paddington. It was mad because along the way you could see people coming out of office buildings in the fear of being stuck in London with no way home, or else they just wanted to get out of this suddenly dangerous place. There was a bit of that in my head as well. The only thing being that I had to return that night. I got to Paddington and it was absolutely mobbed, everyone had the same thought as me then, get the fuck out of London before the whole system shuts down. The packed train pulled out of Paddington and you could see the relief on people’s faces as they got outside the M25. Now I’m not a pessimist by nature but I really thought there was some bad shit going down here, the reports were of a new and even more vicious attack.

Sure don’t believe everything you hear.

It turned out to be a botched attempt by fools, cowards and bastards. I was angry alright. But mostly angry because it made me feel the way I did and that I had to run. Not cool. Very not cool. Thank God the show went well that night. No, thank God no one got hurt.

The rest of the running up and down wasn’t nearly as eventful and everything seemed to be going swimmingly altough really tiring. When I wasn’t able to do the rehearsals Andy Hutch (who was understudying me) was able to lash into getting a decent go at it, more than an understudy would normally get at the park. I was glad because its always worrying when you have to hand a part over to someone for a few shows. You want it to go really well in your absence sure. I knew it was in good hands though. The mad part (part one) came when we got to the tech rehearsals for willows. Of course I could only be there for some of them so I ended up only having half a tech with Andy doing the other. Meaning there was bits I hadn’t rehearsed at all with the new props and new bits of set and the new car and the new pain in me head and so on and so forth. Ah sure that’ll be no bother it’ll sort itself out.

Or will it?

The mad part (part two) was when we got to the first week of Willows. Or do I mean the last week of Much Ado?

Of course I mean both. It was the same feckin week sure.

Now I was feeling that all the people who were calling me crazy were bang on. I just wish they didn’t look so feckin smug. Normally the phrase ‘to open and close a show in the same week’ is not a good one. It should mean that a show has opened and closes days later because it is so bad. Of course that wasn’t my case. I was living that phrase in a far more literal fashion. This is where it could all go so very very wrong. Here’s how the week went;

Monday: Ok not too bad. In early in the morning to continue the tech for willows and there’s a lot of good work done, But of course the time comes and Cinderella has to get the train to Bath. I do the show in Bath although me head is full of lines from the other show. The cast of Much Ado are laughing at me at this stage at the thought that I’m opening a show in the London the next day. I’m laughing at meself at  this stage.

Tuesday: 1st preview! In early again, this time to do a dress rehearsal which doesn’t go at all well for me. Sure I never got to finish the feckin tech the day before!!! Jesus! So I was on a real wing and a prayer for the actual show. But it went fine! Thank godddd!!!! That’s the thing when you have an audience in front of you, whether its sheer determination or just pure fear I don’t know but you always seem to get through it and its never as bad a you thought it was going to be. Famous last words I know. But get through it I did and the old buzz was back. AHA!! Now that was why I enjoyed doing the show so much last year. Its just a big load of craic from start to finish. Seeing as I didn’t have a show that night in Bath and I wasn’t doing Willows the next day I got in the horrors as only I can to celebrate the sleep in. I have zero recollection of getting home. Fuck all new there so.

Wednesday: Roll out of bed in an awful state and thank me lucky stars I don’t have a show at 2.30. And while I don’t, me poor understudy does. I had heard him practising the songs after the show the day before and he was in top voice. Big time. We were all standing on the picnic lawn at the theatre having some champagne when he was giving it sox and I turned to me fellow actors with a wry smile;

‘Enjoy that while it lasts lads, because you’ll never hear those notes out of me!’ quoth the bass upon hearing the tenor sing his role correctly.

I knew it was in good hands so and on me way to the train station I dropped into the theatre to leave him a bottle of wine and a copy of the book to wish him luck. But as I walked out of there it was the strangest feeling. Not doing the show .... yes the show was going on, but without me. I felt strangely uneasy and probably a bit jealous. Ah cop on Jamie for feck sake it happens all the time. So I head to Bath and check into the very swish B&B I had treated meself to for the night. Ah sure tis a hectic week I deserve a bit of comfort. We do the show and of course there’s a nice bit of a session afterwards, which turns into a serious bit of a session and before long and ends up being a back to the digs session. 5 of us end up back in the digs of one of the girls as her landlord and landlady were away for the week and we lash into a fair bit of their booze. How bad. The craic was good an the clock ticked on and I ended up falling up the hill to my B&B at 6 in the morning which would make it;

Thursday: I got to bed at 6.30 and breakfast there finished at 8.30!! AH shit, well that was a waste of a B&B but there was no way I was gonna miss the breakfast, I paid enough for it for feck sake. That day was spent sorting out me hangover and sleeping in the theatre to be able to do the show that night. The buzz was now going around that Sir Peter wanted to meet us after the last show on Saturday and the rumour was a West End transfer. Which of course would be lovely but meant feck all for me as I was booked up till December now with Winter’s Tale (Jammy!). Show went grand and I sat on the midnight train to the London with the press show of Willows looming over me cause that was happening -

Friday:

Now I was properly shitting meself.

Why? I hear you ask? Well this was the day of reckoning sure, wasn’t it? Now I know I’d done the show before and there wasn’t that much changed but the pressure was really on me this time. I mean they really pulled out all the stops so I was able to do the show again this year and that meant I had to produce the goods. The only thing now was I had to produce said goods after having two days off from the show and the rest of the cast were just getting used to a new Toad! Jesus this could all go horribly wrong!

It didn’t.

Well from my point of view anyway. I lashed into it like there was no show tomorrow (which for me there wasn’t, I was heading back to finish Much Ado). It turned out to be a lovely sunny day which always helps the crowd at the Open Air Theatre. Obviously. The big boys were in as well; The Independent, Time Out, The Evening Standard and The Financial Times (don’t know how many kids read that to be honest), but I didn’t let the pressure get to me and I poop pooped and AHA’d me way through the 1st act no hassle. Which was a surprise seeing as last year I barely got to the end of the 1st act without an asthma attack, the auld stamina was better this year alright. Then came the 2nd act and all went well until the scene in the secret tunnel. After a bit of banter with the audience about whether to send me home or not Badger would normally grab me and throw me back into line. This time he grabbed me and a bit of my costume came off in his hand and he uttered the immortal words;

‘Oh Shit!’

Oh shit indeed Badger because you said it while your feckin mic was on, so the whole audience heard it.

‘Oooooooooooohhhhhhhh’ went the audience.

‘Ahhhhhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha’ Went Toad, Ratty and Moley as we went into the convulsions.

This was funny but not necessarily good, because he did it in front of about 600 kids and representatives of the national media. I may not have a show to come back to on Monday!! After a bit of messing we got back to doing the show and the animals still beat the Wild Wooders in the end so all was well with the Willows. I was pleased with it and hopefully the reviews would be good but I felt relieved that that day had gone well. The celebrations started. Straight off to the volunteer for flatliners and then on to the Duke of Sussex for Karaoke fun as Hardwick was back doing Saturday nights which all ended up with me falling asleep at the baby grand in the corner only to be dragged home by the buachaill in question. The Willows gang had headed off early as they had an 11 o’clock show the next morning. I didn’t thank Jesus but I did have a 2.30 show in Bath. Bollocks.

Saturday: Woke up with a bastard behind the eyes to have to head up to Bath with Hardwick (who was coming to see the show). It went grand as last shows do although it was weird because it ended on a matinee. We were all on best behaviour as well as Sir Peter Hall was in the building and he had a chat with us all afterwards. It wasn’t going to the West End but it was going to be revived in September 2006 at his new theatre, The Rose in Kingston, and he hoped we’d all be available. Hmmmm .... we’ll see. And that was the end of that, we went to the pub for a swift pint and a lovely pie and the cast swiftly went their separate ways. Hardwick then said to me he was going back to Bedford rather than London so do I mind being dropped off somewhere near the M25 and sure I said not to worry that I still had the travelcard to London so I’d get the train back as it’d be quicker. He dropped me off at the station and I thought that would be the last I’d see of him till the following week. I reckoned without British Rail. I walked onto the platform only to be informed that all trains to London were cancelled due to a fire on the line and that they would be laying on a bus to Paddington. Fuuuck that. I’m bolloxed after the maddest week of me life and now I have to sit on a bus for four hours. I think not good sir!!! It was typical that after a month of problem free travelling there’s a problem on the last day. So I was straight on the phone to the Hardwick to see if his offer of a lift to the M25 was still good. Twas. Happy days. I headed down through the foyer to wait for him outside and on me way I bumped into someone I really didn’t expect to see again. My next phone conversation with Dickie will tell all;

‘Well boy listen we have a passenger coming with us if that’s ok, and you might want to clean up the car.’ quoth I.

‘Why? Who’s coming back with us?’ quoth the driver.

‘Sir Peter Hall.’

‘Fuck off you’re full of shit.’

‘No seriously Dickie, he’s stuck here too and I’ve said he can get a lift with us.’

‘Look, stop taking the piss or else I’m leaving you here. I’ll be there in a second.’

You could hear his eyebrows hit the roof of the car when I walked out of the station followed by one of the most famous directors in the world. NOW he was sorry he didn’t clean the car. It turned out Peter had planned to head back on the same train as I did, so found himself stranded. I literally just bumped into him at the ticket office;

‘It looks like we’re stuck here Jamie.’ quoth the maestro.

‘Well actually Peter I have a mate coming back to pick me up and drop me close to London, would you like a lift?’ meekly quoth I.

‘If that would be ok?’

And there transpired the most surreal car journey I’ve ever experienced. I did not know how this was going to go. 3 hours in a car with Richard Hardwick and Sir Peter Hall. I may never work again. Of course I needn’t have worried. Peter was full of chat and very funny and meself and Dickie were on good form as well. Of course Dickie got in a load of comments about him being a writer now and all about Karaoke Kings and I got to leave him know that I was going to be working with his son Ed again and Richard got him as only he can;

‘Peter, do you mind if I ask you a strange question?’ Quoth the chauffeur to the stars. I was now curled up in a ball in the back dreading where this might be going.

‘Ok........’ Cagily quoth the founder of the RSC.

‘Well, you know when you get knighted .......... is there food?’

Aw thank god. It was a joke. And it was funny! My career is still intact. I think that lightened the atmosphere as well and he went on to tell us about how he knew Tennessee Williams and when he met Marilyn Monroe and also told us stories about auditions and asked us questions about ourselves as well. In those three hours in the car I got to know the man better than in six weeks of rehearsals. Goes to show. I wouldn’t mind having a few scoops with the man. The idea of dropping me off at the M25 went to shit the minute we had a celebrity in the car and Richard drove all the way into London and dropped Peter close to where he lived (but didn’t drop me as close to where I’m going, the fecker.). Peter got out of the car, gave Dickie a few pound and shook my hand wishing me all the best. And with that handshake ended the maddest week .... actually no ..... the maddest MONTH of my life.

I had survived it.

They thought I couldn’t do it but I did!! I opened and closed a show in the same week and as well as that me credit cards were clear (ah sweet double bubble eases the pain). All I had for the next two weeks was one show of Willows a day.

Ahhhhh sure that was no bother to me at this stage.

I’d be grand as long as it didn’t rain.

Some hope boy.

32. SHOW TO SHOW BEAMISH?

Ah those deadly theatrical terms! Now you may think that I’m making them up, and to the most part I am, but things like ‘Twirly’, ‘Double-Bubble’ can indeed be found in the dictionary of show. So can ‘Show to Show’. Now this term is quite self explanatory, it means that you are in the very lucky situation of finishing one show only to start (or to have already started) rehearsals for the next one. When the term is used it is followed by the jammy fecker’s name. For example;

‘Look at the go of ‘show to show’ Beamish.’

Who me? Oh you’re very kind. Well in fairness this summer it was true. I was on me way to Bath for the last week of rehearsals for Much Ado and once that had opened I was off back to London to rehearse Wind in the Willows. Now if that’s not show to show I don’t know what is! The great thing of course was that I was coming to the end of rehearsals and there wasn’t a sign of the Jitter. Thank Jesus! I wish this show to show would happen all the time, but sure wishes never come true.

Or do they?

Well there was still the first show to open before I even thought about any other shows. The entire cast of Much Ado had relocated themselves to Bath and we lashed into the last few rehearsals. Bath is a lovely place, but because all of the buildings have to be made of sandstone it has to be the yellowest city ever. I had played Bath before in Pirates but that was in Winter and the place seemed a bit dull. This time it was summer, and it was the business. How bad. The digs were grand, although they were a bit pink and I couldn’t stand up in the bedroom. But hey, I’ve stopped the moaning now haven’t I? The first day’s rehearsals went well, we were all in good form and I was relishing me new-found role as dance captain. Power going to me head maybe? Nah not a sign, but I was determined to do it as well as I possibly could. Here was a chance to show that I was more than a two song spear carrier. We finished a bit early and I met up with my man in Bath, Neil Ditt, for a scoop. The Ditt, as he is known, is a fine fellow actor and good buddy, we were about embark on our 3rd year in a row at Regent’s Park. He was up in Bath (where he was born and bred) working in his secret identity as an architect, and he was the bearer of very interesting news;

‘I saw Laura last weekend and she was telling me she’s just landed a job assisting Ed Hall on the big Christmas play at the National.’

Like I said very interesting. The Laura in question was the director of Wind in the Willows so that was a good in and an even better in was Ed Hall, sure didn’t he direct Calico last year. Ho ho ho, could it be the Royal National Theatre for Christmas for Beamish? Well there was two brilliant contacts. I was on the phone to the agent in an act. With her on the case I knew I’d be ok. Now that would be a lovely gig to have after Willows and while it wouldn’t be a show to show situation (it would start rehearsals later) it would still be very very cool indeed. Right, time to put that right at the back of me head and get on with the job in hand. Much Ado ... about lots of things. The dancing was going ok but not as well as I would have liked but I wasn’t too worried as the choreographer was coming up that week to do more work on it. Good stuff, and hopefully now he’d be around until we opened and I’d just be assisting. Oh yeah, like I’d be that lucky. That day, the Thursday of the last week of rehearsals, was nearly a full day devoted to just the dancing and while he was doing new steps with new people (five extras had arrived to join the show) I was going over stuff and earning me £28.50. I also thought it might be wise to learn the second dance. As I wasn’t in it I didn’t know it and in fairness it was now me job to know it. But sure its ok we’ll have a few days with the lord of the dance himself. Emmmm ........ no. At the end of the day’s rehearsals, which had gone well although there was still work to do, he turned to me, wished me good luck and said he’d see me at the party on press night. WHAAAAATTTT!?!?!?! Oh yes, he was leaving and wouldn’t be back until we had already done 5 previews, leaving the state of the dancing in the show squarely on my shoulders.

Oh shit.

£28.50 was suddenly not enough. Thank Christ I had learned the 2nd dance. Now the fear descended on me and I lashed into trying to make sure that everyone at least knew the steps before we got on stage on Monday and everything went to shit in the tech. Jesus boy, I was beginning to think I had bitten off more than I could chew. A sleepless night was had and I was lying in bed the next morning with one-two-three/wait-two-three/girls-boys-together going over and over in me head when the phone went. Hark, ‘tis the agent.

‘I’ve just had an availability check for you,’

Oh yes? What for? (Please be the Ed Hall show at the National)

‘It’s for Ed Hall’s production of...’

Yesssss!!!!

‘....The Winter’s Tale.’

Whoa!! Now that I didn’t expect. Ed had put on Shakespeare’s the Winter’s Tale earlier this year with his all-male Shakespeare ensemble called Propeller. These guys were the business, critically acclaimed, highly regarded and I had seen their production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the West End 2 years ago and it was stunning. This production had gotten unreal reviews as well. Its also impossible to even get an audition. When you do a Propeller show you are automatically offered a part in the next production and a lot of them stay, even if they don’t stay there’s still the people who have previously worked with them to consider and all the actors that Ed had worked with over the years. When I didn’t hear anything about the Winter’s Tale when it was first casting I really didn’t think anything of it. That said I’d still give me left Bollock to work with them. Now there was a possibility that I wouldn’t have to castrate meself. This had come completely out of nowhere. The agent went on;

‘They wanted to check you for the 2nd leg of their tour. I told them you were available. And you are....sort of.’

Whatchu talkin’ about ‘Sort of’?

‘They start rehearsals for two weeks on the 22nd of August.’

Ah fuck!!!! Its never fecking easy is it? Why I hear you ask? Well Willows runs until the 27th of August and it wasn’t like I had all day to rehearse before the show, because I had matinees every day, it was a daytime show! If there was only 2 weeks rehearsals there’s no way they would let me just do mornings for the first week. I could see it slip away already and all I had had was an availability check. Now there were a lot of factors to consider. What was the part? If it was to understudy I wouldn’t do it, I was sure of that. It was touring as well, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to be on the road again so soon after being away with Much Ado. I hopped on to the Watermill Newbury’s website (for that’s where the company is based) to see if they had the tour list up and indeed they did.

Oh sweet Jesus.

Apart from some English dates this tour was going to Madrid, Girona, San Francisco, Washington and, wait for it, New York and .... wait even longer for it ..... The Abbey in Dublin!!! I nearly wet meself with excitement. But I HAD to calm down, sure this was just an availibility check, it wasn’t even a date for an audition, it certainly wasn’t an offer. I was still as far away from making my Irish professional debut as I had been for the past 5 years! Well maybe I was a tiny bit closer. But only a tiny bit, and anyway I still had a certain little Shakespeare for Ed Hall’s daddy to concern meself with. Prioritise Beamish, you are after all the dance captain!

The run at the end of the week went well, although Sir Peter had said to me that he felt that the Watch shouldn’t be Irish as he was afraid of confusing the audience, so I had to wheel out me best cockney guv’nah. It was grand and I certainly wasn’t disappointed with the change, sure I was flattered enough in the first place. I was fighting to get time to go over the dances though. They needed rehearsals and it was on my head be it, I was grabbing minutes here and there to go over the steps with the cast whenever I could. The following week at the tech it fell around me a bit and I begged for more time. It didn’t happen. I got half an hour. Oh well, at least I knew the steps. Then the ugly spectre of facial hair loomed again. I went in to a fitting to find that my beard and moustache were a different colour to my hair and made me look like a Hobbit. Also I felt that all of the little comedy looks and expressions I had worked out in rehearsals were as dead as a dodo. This itchy heap of shit they glued to my face was killing me performance. I wasn’t the only one who felt like that let me tell you, but the response from Sir Peter was;

‘Well actors have been using false beards for hundreds of years.’

That’s a fair point to which there is no comeback, but I’m sure actors have been pissed off with false beards for hundreds of years too. Richard Stacey was delighted because he’d grown his own. Mine was cat and I betcha the fucker will fall off some night. Whatever about that the show was in good shape and I was starting to have a bit of fun with the part of the tailor that I was so pissed off with before. Camp it up? I nearly grew a moustache! But through all this there was still that thing in the back of me head about the Winter’s Tale. It had been a week since they called and there was still no news. I hate that, sitting by the fecking phone again. The first previews of Much Ado were going down very very well and we had the Sunday and the Monday off before we came back to do the press night so I headed back to London for the lash. The Monday evening I was on me way back to county Kilburn on the tube and when we came out of the tunnel me phone goes. Its a voice message.

‘Jamie Beamish, it’s Ed Hall, how are you squire?’

I wet meself.

No not literally. In this fateful message he tells me that some of the actors in The Winter’s Tale had left and offers me a part in it, saying that its a nice plot and that I’d also have to sing and play the piano, so it would be a good showcase. I nearly wet meself again. I listened to the message over and over. There it was, no audition needed just a straight offer and a personal phonecall as well. Nice o....

But.

Aw fuck sake, of course there’s a but. Sure he wasn’t aware of me availability in the first week of rehearsals. If he knew I could only do mornings maybe he wouldn’t have offered me a part in the show. Another but was this thing he said about playing the piano. Now I’m not the best of piano players so that put the shits up me as well as everything else. So I’d just gotten this brilliant news and I couldn’t celebrate because it was still up in the air. I decided not to call him back as it was a bit late and I wasn’t sure what to say, but I did call the agent. Its never too late for her. We decide that she’d ring the producer of the tour the following day and I’d ring Ed Hall and we’d both explain the situation that I was still performing at the Park that first week. There was nothing else I could do, they would either be cool with that or say no.

The next day I went to Bath and tried to get in contact with Ed. No answer. Shite. The agent got through to the Watermill and the Producer there seemed to think there’d be no problem but the man from Del Monte still had to say yes. I was sure he’d be reasonable, he’s a top head, but if it was unworkable...well. I was at me wit’s end. I mean this wasn’t just any normal job I was waiting to hear about. This was one of the best companies in England, with one of the best directors who I was dying to work with again, and would bring me home. That was the big thing. You might call me a fool for saying that The Abbey meant more to me than New York, but it did. It would be a huge deal for me to play my national theatre. For five years I’d been trying to get work back home and here it was, just within me reach. But still far away. All this runs inducing stress was of course happening the day before the press night of Much Ado.

And then I finally got through to Ed. He explained all about the gig to me and then I explained my predicament.

‘I’m sure we can work around that.’

Nice one.

‘I’ll just have to discuss it with my producer and then I’ll get back to you.’

Grand I thought, sure the producer has already told my agent that there wouldn’t be a problem. Time to break out the champagne cider methinks. Well I’ll just wait till he calls back to make sure. Yeah wait, and wait, and wait. He never calls back. Now I’m not thinking the worst here because I would still get the news from the agent whether it be good or bad but its still excruciating having to wait. No wonder me nerves are shattered. I could feel it in me water that it was going to happen but you really can’t do anything till you get the definite yes.

The following day there was still no news on The Winter’s Tale, but I had other things on me mind that day. The press night of Much Ado was upon us. The buzz was good among the players, London had just won the olympic bid, and we, like olympians launched into the bard (well it wasn’t really an olympic feat for me as I didn’t have much to do but I wasn’t complaining any more). It went down like a bomb!! And the dances were pretty good too. Nice one. The session was hopping afterwards and we all ended up in ribbons in a hotel bar and we fell home as the birds were singing and the sun was coming up.

The following day there was still no news on The Winter’s Tale, but I had other things on me mind that day. I was woken up after about 3 hours sleep to a text message on me phone; -Hope ur ok have just been watching about the bombs in London on Sky News- Come again? Bombs? What the fuck? Then the phone starts hopping, people asking me am I ok, am I anywhere near the explosions, tell me you’re not in London. I switch on the news to see that the inevitable had happened. London had had a terrorist attack. Three bombs on the underground and one on a bus. Carnage. I watched in horror and disbelief and a a little bit of me was thankful that I was in Bath rather than London. I started texting back; -I’m fine, I’m nowhere near London, I’m doing a show in Bath. Thank God for the drama- A crap little joke, trying to make light of a very serious situation. I was also getting nervous about the fact that I was about to start rehearsals in London. How would it be? Would it be safe? Well feck me to be honest, there were people with a lot more troubles in their life all of a sudden. God help them.

The following day the call came.

‘They’ve officially offered you Winter’s Tale. They’ll work around your availibility.’

Sound. Funny, it wasn’t a jump up in the air moment but just a relief that all the waiting was over, and a bit of a relief that I was going on tour again and getting away from London. Now that was a stupid line of thought but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one thinking it. Then it started sinking in. I had always said that before I was 30 I wanted to have done a show at the Abbey and a show in New York, I was nearly 29 and this one gig was fulfilling both those ambitions. Also it meant that there was another week of Double Bubble coming to me at the end of August and without stopping I had work until the 3rd of December. Straight from Much Ado to Willows and now straight from Willows to Winter’s Tale. Show to show Beamish?

Nah boy.

Show to show to show Beamish.

Oh jammy me.