If You're Happy and You Know It.

Whilst doing mundane jobs around the compound (uprooting brambles, re-grouting swimming pool slabs, stacking five stere of logs) my mind drifts away and I reflect on some of the highs and lows of life in the UK. Sometimes I will start laughing like a loon when I remember some of the more embarrassing incidents from my murky Thespian past.

The local amateur dramatic society were holding auditions for their upcoming production of the King and I and my mum had informed us (me, my twin brother and sister) we were going to audition for one of the King's 106 children. None of us wanted to audition but our mum, who was a forceful woman, was adamant. Our audition prep was lacklustre to non existent. If You're Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands was our chosen song, as we thought the choreography would take care of itself. On the big day we had barely sung Clap You Hands before we descended into uncontrollable giggles of embarrassment. The more we tried to hold it together the worse it got, much to mum's annoyance who was coaching from the sidelines. Before we had a chance to 'stomp our feet' we were thanked and asked to leave.

Fast forward to when I was fourteen years of age and my involvement in am-dram had burgeoned. My dad had read an article in the Observer colour supplement about Lionel Bart's musical Oliver! in the West End auditioning boys to be part of Fagin's gang and if interested, apply, which I did. The only suitable photo included my brother (who had no interest in drama...more sporty). They wrote back inviting me to audition and 'why don't you bring your brother as well'.

We all trouped up to London and Simon and I gave our renditions of Where Is Love? Well wouldn't you know it, he was offered a part and I wasn't. My mother said 'they come as a pair or not at all' at which Cameron MacIntosh acquiesced and I too was accepted.

Fast forward another few years. I'm 22, 23 and fresh out of drama school. For some reason my agent is under the misapprehension I am a good singer (yes, I can carry an upbeat tune, but Russell 'The Voice' Watson I am not). I auditioned for all the big musicals Les Miserables, Joseph, Jesus Christ Superstar.

Just as my confidence was hitting an all time low my agent sent me along to the Putney Dance Attic to audition for the part of Tony in West Side Story...bloody hell!

I joined the long line of hopefuls doing their vocal warm-ups in the corridor awaiting my name to be called. My preparation for the audition was lacklustre to non existent. I had chosen a song that I liked but had been too tight to pay a pianist to go over it with me. It started quite low, then got higher and higher building to a crescendo or so I thought. I gave my music to the pianist and introduced myself to the panel of stern faces sitting behind a table.

The pianist started playing...Blimey! That's high, I thought....and I was right. I was okay initially, but as the song progressed I was struggling more and more to hit the ascending notes. Just as I thought it couldn't get any higher up it went. In the end I was virtually shrieking at the top of my voice to hit the notes that were clearly out of my range. After my final shriek the ordeal was over and there was a sigh of relief from all in the room. I might as well have been singing If You're Happy and You Know It...at least that was in my range. I gave an apologetic smile and left the room.

The walls at the Putney Dance Attic are very thin and my caterwauling could be clearly heard by all the other auditionees in the corridor. As I exited the room thirty people all stopped what they were doing and looked at me. My forehead became very hot and I left the building as quickly as I could.

Thirty five years on, as I finish my fifth stere, my forehead starts heating up at the memory of it.

If You're Happy and You Know It has been etched in the annals of our family history; not a family get together goes by without someone suggesting a rendition.