Grateful to theatre legend for some of hardest lessons

MANY moons ago, I went to drama school in London. A posh one. I went because I didn’t have a clue what to do with my life, and it seemed like a good way to put off the decision for a bit longer.

Specifically I went to this particular drama school, because the guy running the course was a theatrical legend.

And I was hoping I could absorb some of his genius, by osmosis.

Which didn’t happen, but never mind.

I hadn’t spoken to him for years. But the papers reported that he died last month.

Which was sad, and unexpected.

Much is being made of him, posthumously, which is only right.

All tiny kingdoms have their royalty.

And he certainly was a king in performance circles.

People have been writing obituaries and setting up all kinds of ways for folk to pay their respects.

I was duly invited to join a remembrance page, in his honour.

Feels weird “liking” something of this nature, but okay, I did.

And what greeted me was hundreds upon hundreds of devastated former pupils. Sharing stories about this man. How special he had made them feel.

All the amazing life lessons he has imparted.

Really beautiful stuff.

And I just feel awkward as can be.

Because I didn’t feel any connection with him at all.

Because he wasn’t interested in me at all.

On our first day of drama school, we were all assigned a singing buddy.

Mine had a double first from Cambridge, all-round genius.

With one heck of a set of pipes on him, too.

He was a superstar.

And our teacher, quite understandably, was low-key obsessed with him.

We were always together, because that’s how the buddy system worked.

And the glare of his spotlight rendered me, by his side, mostly invisible.

Plus I was a pretty nondescript Musical Theatre performer anyway.

We are still firm friends, singing buddy and I, so I let him write a few memories down and tag me in them.

I mean, they were great moments.

Just probably not as good for me, the spectator.

At least now I don’t feel so bad about not writing anything.

There was something I really wanted to say though.

But I can’t put it on the memorial page, because I don’t want to upset anyone, or be disrespectful.

So I’m saying it to you guys, instead.

(Lucky you, eh?)

Thank you.

Thank you for treating me like the bang-average student I so clearly was.

For not taking any special interest in me whatsoever.

For never making exceptions to the rules, for me.

And for barely remembering my name.

Because it taught me some great life lessons, just about early enough in life, to make me a decent person.

Nobody gets to be the star of the show all of the time.

Life doesn’t work like that. Sometimes you are just a face in the crowd, and you still have to get the job done and give it your best.

Even when your best is pretty mediocre.

Sometimes the most memorable thing you can be is nice. Kind to others. Easy to work with.

And it serves you well to be known for it.

Thank you for teaching me that not everyone loves you.

Because that stuff took me further than any improv or singing lesson, ever could.

(See? Told you I couldn’t put it on there. Absolute ructions it would have caused!)

It’s true though. And I’m grateful for it all.

I wish I had gotten the chance to tell him myself though…