It was a grey and rainy morning as I boarded the train for work. But no matter, I was armed with my brolly and had my iPod set to “Random” to keep me occupied for the hour it would take to get to the office.
As I sat on the train staring out of the window at a rain-washed city that looked like it had been rinsed in acid grey, my eardrums were treated to quite a variety of sounds: Aretha Franklin, Douglas Adams, The Clash, Bach, Beatles, Placebo, vintage Peter Sellers and Tony Hancock, Stones, Handel, Stephen Fry, Jimi Hendrix, Rachmaninov, Mika, Mendelssohn, Moby, Frank Sinatra, Nirvana (hey, variety IS the spice of life)….
As we trundled past some of the more run-down areas, a beautifully simple but melancholy piano solo started playing in my ears. As I watched the world going by, I almost felt like I was in a scene from a movie (OK, probably a bit of a European, art-house type of movie in which nothing exciting actually happens – but a movie nonetheless). And naturally, that got the old grey matter rumbling as I considered who - if anyone - could play me in the movie of MY life.
Now, in the time-honoured tradition of getting much better-looking thespians to play real-life people, I would love to see me played by Uma Thurman (that loud THUNK! you just heard was the sound of those who know me - and what I look like - falling off their chairs en masse before giggling hysterically on the floor).
OK, Uma’s out of the question.
If I’m honest, probably the closest to reality would be someone like Whoopie Goldberg (apart from the small problem that she’s black and I’m - well – not). I’d also love to identify with the likes of Daryl Hannah (too slim and with too much of a glint in her eye), Diane Keaton (too petite, too sassy and generally just too New York ), Bette Midler (too Jewish and WAY too much talent in the vocal chords)… So, who?
I've come up with some of the supporting cast. Bruce Willis (before 'Die Hard', the surgical removal of his sense of humour and baldness) or Micky Rourke (prior to monstrous plastic surgery) could have once be good candidates for the Ovver Arf.
Barbara Hershey IS the screen alter-ego of my weird but wonderful soul sister in Brighton who is always there for me to “vent” to.
And Dame Judi Dench could do my mum a treat (though she’s have to grow her hair a bit).
But 'til I find the perfect leading lady, who is good looking enough to give my ego a boost without being so drop-dead gorgeous that all credibility is lost, the great epic that is my life will not be "Coming to a screen near you" any time soon…
Any suggestions will be gratefully received.