Inside Me (Part 2)

I'm sticking to my side of the deal - enough of you came back yesterday to reward you with more useless facts about me ....

I’VE SEEN THE FILM “DIRTY DANCING” 20 TIMES. I know, it’s sad isn’t it?  But I love it.  I worked with a girl, back in the eighties, who was equally obsessed.  We would set ridiculous quiz questions for one another: What colour was Johnny’s chalet door?  How many steps did Baby dance down when practising at the lake?   It’s a film you can’t beat for a good boogie, a sloppy love story, a daft laugh and a weepy cry.  Who could forget the lines, “I carried a watermelon?”  And, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner”?  And as for the tearjerkers, what about “I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you”.  And for any girl who loves her dad, “You let me down too, Daddy”.

You just can’t beat it!

ALEX KINGSTON ROBBED ME OF MY CAREER. When I secured a lead role in Grange Hill (BBC 1979), my headmistress wouldn’t let me have all the time off school needed for filming as I was mid way through my ‘O’ levels.  The BBC kept me on as an extra but gave the lead to Alex Kingston (of Nell Gwynn and ER fame)  I’m not bitter (much) but where might I be today if it hadn’t been for that evil #@%!* witch of a headmistress who clipped my thespian wings so cruelly?

I AM A HUGE BARRY MANILOW AND CURTIS STIGERS FAN (and I don’t mean Curtie in his middle-of-the-road pop period, I mean the brilliant jazz and standards stuff he’s turned out since following his heart and pursuing his original passion). I’ve seen them both in concert more times than I can remember and they are both wonderful showmen.  OK, I’m the first to concede that Bazza looks a little odd now - a bit like a newly hatched birdie who’s dropped out of a tree - but Curtis is a fine figure of a man.  Seriously, go Google him and give yourself a treat, he’s a hunk now he’s dropped the ponytail look.

I’D TURN DOWN A MILLION POUNDS, rather than go on a rollercoaster.  Totally pathetic, I know, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  And as for those people who go on them just for fun … well, I think it’s perverse!  My husband often says, incredulously, “You’d pass up a million just for a few minutes of discomfort?”   Those ‘few minutes of discomfort’ would scar me for life.  So much so, I probably wouldn’t even be able to enjoy my million - I’d just be gibbering wreck in a mental institution somewhere. I once went on a banana swing boat which looked fairly tame as we stood looking up at it with my husband encouraging me to give it a go.  I spent the whole ride with my eyes firmly closed, clinging on to my son’s hand and praying for it to stop, convinced the inertia was going to throw us out (incidentally my husband later openly admitted he’d underestimated the increased scale of the ride).  Walking was not easy when I was finally back on the ground.  Swearing at my husband was easy. Lesson learnt - never sit at the “safe looking” extreme ends.

I WORKED IN THE CITY IN THE EIGHTIES (after realising acting didn’t pay me enough to eat).  OK, I wasn’t a hedge fund trader, I was a receptionist/PA and so naïve (read, thick) I couldn’t figure out why, if I’d sent a fax to someone, I still had the piece of paper in my hand!  I’d sent it so why hadn’t it gone through?  I think it was true to say that I was successful in gaining that job because I wore my charity shop suit well and could answer the phone in a posh voice.  Anyway, once I got the fax mystery solved, I did quite well - stayed on there for three years and married my boss.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Once again, if you’ve enjoyed my ramblings today, why not treat yourself to a copy of my debut novel ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ on Amazon.  A bitchy look at London prep-school mummies.
Now also available in paperback at Lulu.