I remember exactly where I was stood and what I was doing when the death of Victoria Wood was announced on the radio. Making a cuppa in the kitchen at home. I felt sad and sick and I cried. Victoria Wood had been a huge part of my telly watching life and had bought more laughter into my world than any other entertainer had before or since.
I believe we are all made up of jigsaw pieces of those that come into our lives and affect us in all kinds of ways. Victoria Wood makes up quite a few pieces in me. Of all my cultural influences and inspirations, she is the biggest.
One of my first memories of seeing her perform was on television in about 1985. It was a stand up routine and she was talking about sitting in a Photo Booth and someone sticking an eclair through the curtain. I laughed until my stomach hurt, my mum also collapsing in fits of giggles. I bought all of her videos when I could, and watched all of her sketch shows, along with her plays, ‘Pat & Margaret’ being a favourite. When I studied Performing Arts at college it was Victoria Wood sketches that me and my friend Kathy (not Kimberly alas) chose to perform.
To this day her lines will come to me, stored in my mind waiting for the right circumstance. When a famous person dies and celebs come out in droves on social media with a photo of them at an event, and make out they were much more connected than we they were, then the words ‘Well he brushed up against me in a sports jacket, so he’s as good as…’ spring instantly to mind. ‘Don’t bother Ken, I’ll it myself.’ one for all sexually frustrated women, and every single time I’m getting shopping thrown at me at the check out in Aldi and I’m feeling harassed, I get the bill and smile, a la Celia Imrie ‘On the other hand, it’s very cheap and easy to park.’
I can still cry with laughter watching her wearing a swimming cap, doing forward rolls as the twelve year old channel swimming Chrissie, whose uncaring parents can’t watch her attempt as they’ve got tickets to ‘Cats.’ Or my favourite, A Fairly Ordinary Man where Jim Broadbent plays a telephone deodorising specialist who found God on a camping trip to the Isle of Man.
Somehow in a sea of male writers and comedians her talent rose and outshine all. I don’t think of her as a female writer / comedian / musician who succeeded, she is just simply one of the best full stop, she transcends all labels.
Meeting my hero.
In a previous newsletter I wrote about my time doing work experience at Sheffield City Hall (Barry Manilow wiggling his lil’ hips and all that). During this time Victoria was touring and had a show coming up. By this time, tickets had been on sale for some time and it was all but sold out. But I was working in the ticket office and had access to the booking screen…and there it was, a single, solitary ticket left. Row C in the circle. I booked it straightaway. (On that note and something I try to instil in my son, never let the fact you are the only one that wants to, or can do something, ever stop you doing it. If you wait for other people, you will likely miss out.)
So the night comes and Victoria Wood steps on the the stage in a yellow beret and orange coat looking for her friend…and we’re taken off into a night of laughing until our bellies hurt and tears stream down our faces. Getting to see Victoria Wood play and sing ‘The Ballad of Barry & Freda’ / ‘Let’s Do It’ in real life is one of the highlights of my life. Seriously.
The show finishes and we all leave feeling all the better for it. She has filled our hearts and the memory will stay with us as we head off back to real life. I don’t know how I found out, but I knew somehow that she was signing autographs inside the venue and meeting fans. Teen me felt very self conscious about being inside the building meeting her, because I knew staff there, and some time had passed and would there be awkward half recognitions? Instead I opted to wait alone outside in the car park, clutching a black and white promotional photo of her.
After about an hour my patience was rewarded when Victoria and Geoffrey Durham (her then husband) exited the City Hall. Just me, my hero and her husband in the car park on a dark, rainy, Sheffield night. I was aware she might be tired, bored of signing things and likely just wanted to get home for a cuppa, but I knew this was my only chance to speak to her and all my teen angst disappeared.
I approached her and asked if she would please sign my photograph. Now there are many incidences of fans doing this and the negative response resulting in the regret of ever buying a single ticket / record / video…I was taking a huge risk. However, she was LOVELY, really lovely. ‘Of course I can.’ she said smiling, taking my photo and pen and leaning against a wall (resulting in a very wobbly signature!). As she finished an argument kicked off in a nearby pub and raised voices echoed over to us..
‘Ooooo we love a good fight, don’t we Geoffrey!’ she joked. As someone pointed out to me recently, this was a joke for me, my own private Victoria Wood moment. And with that she said goodbye and they got in their car and drove away. And I was left with one of the best memories of my life.
A year or so ago I read the excellent Victoria Wood biography ‘Let’s Do It.’ written by Jasper Rees (highly recommend this book to all VW fans). In it he writes about the time her family went to see Joyce Grenfell, but as a young child, Victoria was unable to go in and meet her. On hearing she was outside, Gracie instead approached Victoria. VW says that because of that moment, she would always make the effort when fans wanted to to meet her because it had meant so much to her. Well it did mean everything to me. That very brief exchange with my writing / comedic / musical hero made that awkward teen’s night / day / week and life. X
Sally-Anne X
If you would like to read more of my work, including my two dark novels published by Joffe Books, please visit my website here.
