Those poor souls, who, like me, have made their careers in show business, are by nature a superstitious bunch. How could we be otherwise, trapped in a profession that runs on instinct, whim and sheer good luck?
If you think I’m being a bit, well, theatrical, consider this. What other career has no standards and no professional benchmark by which practitioners can be judged?
All you have to do to call yourself an actor is to act, and it’s all about being in the right place at the right time. No wonder we walk around stroking lucky rabbit’s feet and taking care not to walk under ladders.
One of the more common of showbiz superstitions states that “if you’re badly out of work and need a job, book a non-refundable holiday”.
I’ve always regarded this as one of the more far-fetched maxims – the capricious notion that you’ll only attract work when you’re unavailable – but I’m reconsidering my attitude after recent events.
Uniquely for me, I’ve had a nasty little spell of unemployment of late, and after five months of staring bleakly at my phone, last week I decided I’d had enough. Instead of wasting my life away I’d take a few days holiday in Cornwall, a rural county on the south-west tip of Britain, and a full six-hour train ride from London. It may cost me over £100 (Dh520) for the rail ticket plus accommodation and food, but at least the febrile, fickle world of showbiz would seem less important once I was walking along gusty cliff tops with the sun on my face.
Thus armed I set off last Monday morning. No need to tell my agent, thought I – after all, I hadn’t heard from her for several weeks, and I was sick of feeling so needy. I took some good books, a packed lunch, and my (non-refundable) reservation details for five nights at a small seaside guesthouse in Penzance. By the time my train pulled out of London at 10am I was greatly looking forward to my adventure.
The first call came just as we were approaching Reading, a large commuter town about 40 miles from the capital and the first stop on the journey. It was my agent: “I’ve got an interview for you. A new play at a fashionable London theatre. Lovely part too. They need to see you on Thursday at 11. OK?”
Thursday? That was three days away, meaning I’d have to cut short my break. Still, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity, and assured her I’d be there.
“Where are you?” she continued suspiciously, “You sound like you’re on a train.”
“No no,” I said, putting my hand over the receiver. “Dodgy signal. Thursday it is. I’ll be there.”
The phone rang again near Exeter, two hours further down the line. Again it was my agent. I also now had an interview for a new TV comedy show on Wednesday morning at noon. She’d email me the script so I could learn some lines for the screen test.
“Is that all right?” she asked. Well it was, except that my holiday was fast becoming little more than a one-night stopover.
The next few hours should have been spent looking out of the window and enjoying the peerless coastal scenery of the English Channel. Instead I spent the time squinting at the attachment on my iPhone, trying to decipher the script she’d forwarded.
The final call came just as we were approaching Penzance. It was yet another audition. This time to be held the next morning, to play an army officer in a new TV series set in Afghanistan. I got off the train, hurried across the platform, and by 8pm was back home in London.
So the next time anybody tells me that showbiz superstitions are just so much hot air, I’ll show them my rail ticket, my wasted hotel reservation – and my new contract.
I start work at the fashionable London theatre on Monday and to tell you the truth, despite the expense and the wasted hours spent travelling, I consider it to be the best holiday I’ve had in years.
Michael Simkins is an actor and writer in London
On Twitter: @michael_simkins
