On Monday, Eva-Jane and I went to the legendary Royal Court theatre to see the latest show there called Jerusalem.
First off, if you have a chance you should really, really go and see it, it is a grand, sprawling, brilliant show that generates belly laughs as well as awkward poignancy. It is a spell bounding 3 hours 10 minutes of theatre that flies past.
I was up for this play, which in itself is a feat of leviathan like effort by my agent, just to get me in with a shout and break the glass ceiling. Once they'd help me get my foot in the door I did what I had to be done, auditioned well and got a recall, indeed, I got down to the last two; what an honour.
But then they went and broke my heart and gave the part to a famous actor, rather than me. Fair play to them but it was with some trepidation that Eva and I went to the theatre, I was hoping the famous guy that got the part would be utterly amazing, that he got it on merit not who he is; that he ground me into the dirt with his brilliance. Then the loss would feel justified.
Is goes without saying that he was average as hell, no presence, no gravitas, no nothing; it wasn't just the actor's fault, the part had been downsized but still, I would've been better. A lot better.
So the glass ceiling is still in place and the battle to break it goes on...