Old actors never dry…

Today being International Woman’s Day I took myself up to the British Library to celebrate the forty-second anniversary of the HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY.

(That’s a complete non-sequitor. I knew that when I said it. But I did see Daisy Campbell (daughter of Ken) direct our  little extract of Douglas Adam’s work very well and not nearly as gonzo as her father would have been for which I was grateful.)

I did this (as is traditional) by telling as many of the stories about my involvement in the cultural phenomenon as I could get past the egos of the other old lags who had turned up. And then we did a version of the first draft of episode two which included just enough material that hadn’t got through to the broadcast stage to keep the audience (who all knew the words better than we did) on their toes. There was a lot more (and a lot ruder) material for the doors on the HEART OF GOLD to display their lewd and intrusive Genuine People Personalities.

There was an extract from Terry Johnson’s short play about being involved in the Rainbow production in which Daisy Cambell channelled her father to a frightening degree and which either reminded me of things I had forgotten about the Great Disaster of 1980 or things I had never known. (I’ve only a vague memory of Arthur and Ford risking life and limb by throwing themselves into the orchestra pit and even that may not be a real memory.)

There was a short play  about a conversation between Douglas Adams and his rubber duck  as he struggled to find a way out of being locked in a hotel room to finish the fourth book of the trilogy. And one of the producers came up to me afterwards and said that he had been a pupil of my father’s and felt he had a real relationship with him and had been helped and encouraged. And it’s a small world isn’t it?

Small enough that my niece Erika managed to spot a Twitter thread about the event and send it to the family. My word, does she keep an eye  on all of us? Or is she scanning the net constantly for mentions of the family.

And if so does she hear anything about my namesake who’s the Canadian Firefighter? Or was he a garbageman? I can never remember. Canadian though, definitely.

Anyway, I met some talented people and I got some laughs. Didn’t disgrace myself. I  should even get paid. All in all, a good day.

This one will get a picture  when I can figure out how to find and download the Twitter post with me pontificating at the event. EDITED TO ADD: After some time spent not finding the source of the picture I figured out that I could download it from my phone. Aged brains… Still makes me wonder how my clever niece does it.