A Few of my Favourite things

After all the excitement of my Prime Ministerial handshake last Sunday morning, and my following appearances on both of that evening's BBC News bulletins, this week would be hard pressed to live up to such heady heights.

I found myself looking forward to the work in hand this week. Three jobs that I knew I'd enjoy.

On Wednesday I was down in Wales working with some directors at a media company who produce corporate videos. Clever talented directors, but who had had no training in how to work with actors. They are not alone. These days hardly anyone bothers. Most tv shoots consist of reading the script and standing in position while the shot is lit and then going for it. Unless there is a camera error, the last thing a take will be redone for is the acting. An awful lot of directors in tv these days don't seem to have an idea about how to establish a dialogue with actors. We like to be challenged and pushed out of our comfort zone. These days budgets and schedules don't allow for that so we are booked to do what we do and asked to do it time after time. A new project therefore always has interest.

The afternoon in Wales went well, and extra praise to the head of Programmes there who thought up the idea for the session. Thanks to the gorgeous Kazia Pelka, an extremely accomplished television actress who came down to help me out. Hopefully at least some of the actors the company deals with in the future will have a better time as a result of it.

Thursday saw a corporate session in the city dealing with hot and cold calling. It also saw some sort of Political event in the UK. I have a postal vote. As I can never guarantee where I'll be when an election is called, I have had it for the past three years. So I'd already voted by the time I shook the bigot detectors hand last Sunday.

Thursday afternoon I flew to Amsterdam for a days work at a Dutch Law academy on Friday. From the comfort of my hotel room in one of the nicest cities I know, I was able to watch the start of the election night coverage. Having seen Sunderland and Houghton return their results, I was glad that the European time zone and an early start the next day forced me to turn off the light and got to bed. How frustrating for people who stayed up through the night to find that three days later we still have no decision. This lack of the public ability to make a forceful decision worries me. Just how will they pick Dorothy. Will Danielle and my personal favourite, Steph, have to share the role? Four shows a week each or perhaps half a show each showing different facets of Dorothy Gale's no doubt complex character. Mmmmm - an interesting thought.

One person who won't be Dorthy I'm afraid is the legend that is Julie Andrews. We were invited as guests to her one off concert at the O2 last night. It boded well and I had a certain frisson at the thought of it, more than met by the atmosphere and the warm rapturous applause as the legend that is Dame Julie walked onstage. We wanted her there. She is ours and she is gorgeous. Draped in enough material to curtain a Dutch Law academy she sashayed around the stage telling us how lovely it was to be there. "There's no where else I'd rather be right now than here on stage at the O2" she told us. Oh how we cheered. Sadly, for us and many of the audience there soon was somewhere else we would rather have been.- home!

Several years ago Dame Julie had surgery to remove some non cancerous polyps on her throat and it all went wrong. The fabulous four octave voice that had thrilled us all for so many years was no more- and it was a tragedy. Legal wrangles ensued and I believe that financial compensation was given, but what Dame Julie wants is her voice back. Sadly it hasn't returned. She croaked her way through" Getting to know you" and then handed it over to four unbelievably synthetic American singers who trudged through some of the greater hits of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Just before the interval the whole event rallied as Julie led the whole of the O2 in a rousing sing song of Doh Ray Mi, but this was too little too late.

After the interval we were treated to what amounted to a workshop of a musical based on some thin children's book that Dame Julie had written and was now set to music. It took place in medieval England, and it only took one "Fol de rol" from the singers to have me heading for the loo- the long way. I waited outside the box and soon Rich joined me and we were heading home for "Dr Who" and the real singers of Britain's got Talent" We were not alone. Evidently hundreds of people left. We were lucky to be invited as guests and I'm sorry we had to leave. Others were not so lucky. They had paid up to £100 per ticket for a show which was a huge let down.

It's not Dame Julie's fault - she has been badly advised. Alas she can't sing and that is the way it should stay. Her dulcet trilling as Mary P and Maria Von T should remain in the past.

Sometimes fond memories should be allowed to remain just that