The Play, meeting Richard and that call.

When I received the message from Buffy I knew I had created a problem for myself. The suggestion that I was holding you all in suspense was amusing but slightly worrying especially as messages from others inferred great things were expected! Then I read Elaine’s report and thought so that’s what happened. For inspiration I looked at my, now signed, copy of `With Nails’ and read Richard’s meeting with Barbara. No it wasn’t like that either. So I suppose I’ll have to start not at the beginning, which would take us back 3 years, but perhaps with Buffy.

The news that Richard was appearing as a surprise guest in a play in the West End provoked a similar response in Buffy and myself -WHEN? An e-mail to the theatre only extracted the information that guest stars were not announced beforehand in order to retain the element of surprise. Fine, but as I pointed out, my main reason for seeing the play WAS the guest star, Darren was apologetic but unable to help.

Fade to web-site problems in December and me being out in the cold. An e-mail from Rosemary mentioned Richard had responded to questions. Rosemary was kind enough to post replies to me and amongst them were dates for Richard’s stage appearances. 17th December – husband’s birthday – request to go to London to see Richard E Grant probably grounds for divorce and likelihood of seeing children again zilch. 18th and 19th December – husband in Scotland, parents already booked to child-sit 20th and 22nd – likelihood of being tried for abuse of parents extremely, generous nature probable. As Dom said "so near yet so far." Dom unable to supply January dates.

Move forward to Wednesday 12th December – return from school concert just before nine to husband’s announcement that he wouldn’t be going to Scotland next week. "Can I go to London then?" An agreement sees me frantically e-mailing Emma and Elaine to see if they want to join me (as Buffy lives in Philadelphia knew possibility slight). Then a quick search for tickets – recommend Virgin – dress circle £35, balcony £15, three seats in balcony booked for a week’s time. Went to bed with mind frantically trying to sort out arrangements for boys, meeting others and what could happen to prevent me getting to theatre! Hopefully, if you are still with me, you will forgive me for not posting to inform you of our intentions. Being on the superstitious side I just kept thinking "if I tell anyone it won’t happen!"

Fast forward though pre-Christmas excitement – including trip to RSC to see "Alice", although I was beginning to feel slightly unsure of reality myself. Wednesday 19th December. Whilst the previous day had been foggy, this morning was dark grey but clear. I set off sure I had everything – book, camera, card, Christmas cards for all, mince pies – well having seen the Kumars and baked the previous day I had decided to take a few up for Richard, as I knew I was going straight to theatre it wouldn’t be a problem. Ten minutes later saw me back at house collecting younger son’s disco clothes! Thirty minutes later I was going up Birdlip Hill just outside Cheltenham, and an hour and a half later parking in Kew!

First call theatre, where I found stage door, left pies and card. By the way the card included well wishes from all the REGiment for his performance that night which I hope was okay with you all. Then I went to spend the day shopping in London – Hamleys, Harrod’s (never managed to get there before but really recommend as an opulent shopping experience). Stood in book department reading Bruce Robinson’s "Smoking in bed" references to Richard, worth checking out. Phone rang but no one here. Went to get tube to Covent Garden.

Checked phone and discovered message, tried to hear but train too noisy, time meant Richard was on stage therefore something wrong at home. Looked up to see doors closing as train pulled out of Covent Garden! Eventually got back to Covent Garden and surface. Played message, "Hi Denise. It’s Richard Grant calling. Thank you for your wonderful mince pies." Not sure which emotion hit first, relief that everything at home okay, or gobsmacked that I was listening to Richard’s voice. Went happily around Covent Garden and even gave most of loose change to a busker singing, "Killing me softly". Then decided I really should let Elaine and Emma know. But first I listened again just in case. Emma sounded extremely calm when I told her, had to leave message on Elaine’s phone.

By now I thought I ought to eat, as I didn’t want to pass out. Not the world’s biggest eater my stomach rejected the thought of a main course. The nice waiter at "The Rock Garden" smiled obligingly as I explained that I couldn’t face a full meal and only required the starters. A bowl of olives and goat’s cheese red onion tart with grape salad that was delicious, plus sorbets of lime, melon and raspberry. Elaine arrived as I ordered a pot of tea. Querying "were we really were going to meet Richard?"’ I decided that it was best heard from him and replayed message. Time was marching on and Emma contacted us and, after asking the waiters to point us in the direction of Leicester Square, we made our way to the theatre.

In the small, but crowded foyer, we failed to spot Emma. When located she too listened to message. We then climbed, then climbed, and yet climbed again. Arriving at the balcony, otherwise known as the Gods, I realised why seats were so much cheaper, they were more like upholstered benches. However the stage was clearly visible.

The show started with the two leads standing strapped to a cardboard bed, singing a song about being in bed dreaming that you’re dreaming inside your head. The image evoked memories of the 70’s, when two men in bed was not a reference to a homosexual relationship and gay still meant blissfully carefree. The comic song also created the mood of the play, we weren’t watching a tribute we were watching a piece of unreality inspired by Morecambe and Wise. Hamish reminded me as much of Vic Reeves as of Eric Morecambe, whilst Sean’s eyes and manicness seemed more akin to Ric Mayall.

Although Sean had "written" an Ernie Wise-like play he did not want to be a straight man to Hamish. Underneath the funny, and familiar, comic routines was the realization that the straight man was as important to the success of a comic pairing as the much-loved and audience-appreciated funny man.

The storyline involved Sean believing his play was going to be produced in the West End whilst Hamish and his friend George (Toby Jones), in various guises, manipulated him into a tribute to Eric and Ernie.

The second half saw Hamish agreeing to put the play on but unfortunately without the preferred lead, Sir Ian McKellan. However he claimed that he had obtained Sir Richard E Grant. Enter George bedecked with a dark wig and wearing a long Withnail-like coat. Sean indignantly protests that is not Sir Richard E Grant as, attired in dressing gown, Richard appears stage left, to gasps, cheers and applause from audience. "Sir Richard E Grant," exclaims Sean upon which Hamish protests that he is an impostor. The format is familiar to viewers of those Christmas specials. Richard’s role is a straight one as he feeds lines to the comedy duo and utters the really appalling, but somehow amusing, dialogue of the play. The line from Hamish that Richard’s eyes were truly terrifying from this distance seemed to be an adlib. As was the comment "he’s got a detachable head!" as the head fell into the bucket before the blade of the guillotine descended. Cut! Reshoot!

Yes Richard was singing and no it didn’t sound off-key. Also dancing – not quite Gene Kelly but good enough for the requirements of this play. Then we were clapping as the curtain came down. I looked at Emma and Elaine muttered, okay this is it, and we started the descent down all those stairs.

"Richard E Grant is expecting us, my name’s Denise," I informed the stage doorman. A phone call confirmed our visitation rights and we were allowed to go to his dressing room. As we were escorted there the lady started singing, still in superstitious mode I asked, "Isn’t that unlucky?" by all accounts it’s whistling that is unlucky.

We entering the dressing room as Richard was washing the make-up from his face. He was still dressed in the simple French costume; dark red waistcoat, yellow breeches. In the flesh he is very slim and extremely good-looking. Drying his hands he crossed the room smiling and greeted us, shaking our hands. "Who made those marvelous mince pies?" he asked. I admitted it was me and we were chatting away. To be honest any intelligent, witty or sparkling repartee that I may possess completely deserted me leaving behind social intercourse responses that were inanely banal. I was in a surreal situation where I knew more about the person in front of me than many of my family members yet he knew nothing about me. Everything I want to say was somehow locked in some unreachable corner of my brain yet I was nattering away! A phone call announced another visitor. This was a co-star from Gosford Park, Geraldine, an attractive young girl. "She’s upper class whilst I’m below stairs," Richard summed up their contributions to the film, which was, he told us proudly, already being nominated for awards. Richard was concerned that we had all enjoyed tonight’s performance which I could honestly confirm I had. Arriving in Britain in the 80’s he had missed the phenomena that were Morecombe and Wise. Both Elaine and I remembered the originals, as did Geraldine, although she must have been quite young. Richard had researched with videotapes and I couldn’t help thinking that comedy is part of its era and a video can’t quite capture that.

"So you’ve never met before today?" Richard queried incredulously. The thought entered my brain that two of us had Richard, but Elaine was confirming his belief and the moment passed as conversation moved on. Before leaving he happily agreed to sign things. I produced my tatty copy of "With Nails". The presence of Geraldine prevented me admitting that this was what had brought me here, that if I hadn’t read that book a year ago I wouldn’t be standing in front of him now, that it had inspired me to go for my dream and that I wanted to thank him. Instead he kissed me. Okay it was one of those social kisses that, from a man, I always mess up, figuring if any man wants to kiss me than it should be lips! But who am I to complain.

Too soon we were back in the street. Suddenly we all remembered the cameras in our bags and the questions we hadn’t asked. Immediately my brain numbed over and I failed to recall anything I’d actually said! It just retained the image of Richard standing in front of me talking! I apologized to Elaine and Emma as I convinced myself that I had talked non-stop! They were really kind and said that it was okay that they hadn’t known what to say anyway!

After leaving Elaine I journeyed home. The M4 was not too busy, although I nearly undertook a middle lane hogger as I sang along to a CD to retain alertness. I crept into bed in the early hours of the morn and slept for what felt like the first time in a week. I awoke next day unsure of whether I, like Alice, had dreamt everything. Checking my mobile the message was still there as was his dedication in the book. I played message to hubby. "He sounds a down-to-earth guy," he commented. I nodded thinking that at the moment I was the opposite!

I am sure this report, unlike Richard, will disappoint. All I can say is that fiction I can do, detached reportage of events okay, but in-depth biographical writing for others to read I’ll leave to Richard.

21st December 2001
Denise J Hale.