'So you got your memoir published?' said one of my writing students when she saw Judi Dench's memoir 'And Furthermore' on the desk. The book was upside down and my student could have been forgiven for mistaking me for the woman with short bleached hair, pale complexion and Botox-free wrinkles on the cover. But I am twice Judi's height, twelve years younger and am not a star. I had to laugh. It was ironic that even someone else saw a connection between us.
Because there are some. That was why I had to read her memoir. The main connection is that I saw her first major performance at the Old Vic, London in 1957, as Ophelia, with John Neville as Hamlet. And again in 1960 as Juliet with John Stride as Romeo. It's fabulous to read her account of the performances and the inside dope on her fellow actors, to read about her passion for the stage which echoes my passion as a stage-struck youngster. I never went on to become a professional actor, but those early experiences of Shakespeare and the theatre have been major influences in my life.
One of her anecdotes echoes my own experience. She was playing Lady Bracknell in 'The Importance of Being Earnest' at the National Theatre, London, when she suddenly skipped half a page - a vital one with the first reference to the infamous handbag - and suffered a miserable Christmas because of it. A few years ago I did the same thing in an amateur production of Wilde's play at Como House in Melbourne where, as Lady B, I asked Miss Prism 'Where is that baby? and then forgot to elaborate the story about the perambulator and the three-volume manuscript, and left poor Miss Prism in the lurch, before I realised I was the one who had forgotten my lines. I haven't done any acting since.
Unlike the formidable Miss Dench. She got over her mistake, has a gruelling work schedule and plans to stay on the stage until she drops dead, like her hero John Gielgud. As I procrastinate and doubt myself as a writer, I can still look to Judi to inspire me to keep on keeping on.
