claytoncast

When we were on holiday in the summer, I expressed a wish that I could have an acting job to keep me busy and inspired. Before starting the regular autumn season of corporate conferences, I was fortunate to have three. They've been great fun and varied, allowing me to work with some old friends and make new ones. All three productions will end up being shown within about two weeks of each other. Now it's back to the world of corporate conferences. Rehearsals have heightened, filming is taking place, videos and presentations are being prepared, and on a day-to-day basis, the emails I have to answer yes or no to fill my inbox. So it's a great treat this week to have Brayden's mum over from Canada. I arranged a little scheme with her so she could be here for his birthday at the end of the month. She's an absolute delight, and having lunch with your prospective mother-in-law is good fun, if not a little daunting. I'm fortunate that autumn brings familiar work.

I've got a confession to make. As an actor, I don't do research. I know that so many of us submerge ourselves in our roles before we start. It might well have been useful to have spent a couple of months working behind the counter of a cafe prior to filming The Full Monty a few years ago, but I rather hope I managed to perfect the preparation of the lettuce salad sandwich and my level of customer abuse without such thorough research. Twenty-six years ago or so, I played a hairdresser in the West End. The main thing I wanted to achieve was the lovely way they use their scissors balanced on the thumb and the third finger. I was dispatched to a hairdressing school for the afternoon and practised hopelessly to get my snipping action just right. I'm not sure that I ever did. On stage every night, I used to cover it up with some hasty combing, but what I did get right was the fact that my performance, outrageous and extravagant as it was, was nowhere near as flamboyant as the

The proverbial wisdom is it's the early bird that catches the worm. I'm not sure I've ever really been an early bird. The first 10 or 15 years of my working career were based around theatre, where the day's climax was the evening and relaxation time didn't begin until 10.30 at night after a particularly long Shakespeare. It was the pub or dinner, and bed rarely came before 1 am in the morning. Rehearsals often dragged one out of bed the following day. But wherever possible, I would enjoy a lazy morning between the sheets. Revelry was quite often the cause of those lazy mornings, so when I gave up drinking 25 years ago, one of the benefits I discovered almost immediately was the fact that I had so much extra time as I woke by 8 most mornings. I could complete my to-do list for the day by 9.30 and have the day stretch in front of me with opportunities and possibilities. For the last three weeks, I have been dragged out of bed at 5 a.m. to get in the car at 5:30 to

One of the things about life as an actor that's always fascinated me is that things can change overnight. When people used to tell us that it was a very insecure profession and that we really ought to get a proper job, we could say that there was always the possibility the phone would ring tomorrow. However, if you were a plumber, my favourite analogy, or an office worker, relocating yourself would suddenly be much more complicated if you were out of work. As people who don't have a routine, we may value a bit of steadiness, but change is good. I spent the last two weeks having an adventure, driving around Iceland with my partner, something I've always considered doing. Everything changed daily; the landscape, from mountains to lava scapes to waterfalls to icebergs, was brilliant and magnificent beyond belief. Every night, the hotel changed, never unpacking our cases properly but just opening them to take out the things we needed and moving on the next day. I think if t

Looking out of the boat's windows this morning, it's a pretty gloomy day, and the dilemma of what to wear presents itself. Yesterday was bright, gorgeous, warm sunshine, and it was easier to decide. This constant climate change makes you think about what's in your wardrobe. And it's compounded at this time of year by the fact that when I pull something out of the dressing room to say “Yes, I'll wear this today.” I think, “Oh no, I'd better keep that because we're going on holiday.” Childhood holidays in Yorkshire always meant two sets of best clothes, probably with a new holiday sweater, two pairs of shorts and swimming trunks, and some bright t-shirts for playing in on the beach. But that was the fashion-conscious Bridlington. My partner and I are setting off on an twelve-day, thousand-mile self-drive road trip around Iceland. It's a huge adventure that will require wardrobe planning. Every night, a different hotel. So, no throwing things in the c

For the first time in many months, I’m getting onto a train at King’s Cross heading north. Three hours to Newcastle and tomorrow a chance to speak to some young drama students about the world and its opportunities. This train journey holds a mix of emotions for me. The familiar route up north, once a regular part of my routine to visit my mum, now carries a sense of nostalgia tinged with sadness since her passing in 2019. It’s a bittersweet experience to revisit these memories after such a significant loss. Although I haven't made the journey as frequently since my mum's passing,I still make occasional visits to Grimm and Co, the wonderful children's charity I support in my home town of Rotherham. These visits provide me with a sense of purpose and connection to the community that raised me offering a bright spot amid the more sombre memories of this journey. Making my way through King's Cross, perhaps the bustling station feels different now, quieter and less famili