Film Industry Widow

I wasn't the first woman to be left to raise children whilst their father was away for months at a time working on film sets hundreds, sometimes thousands of miles away; far from it, I was one i a long line. My mother was the first "industry widow" I knew, which I guess makes me the first industry "orphan"* I knew.

When my mother and father were married in a registry office, one morning in the rock and roll days of the seventies, with me present in an illegitimate love child/flower girl type role; Daddy signed where the Xs were, gave my mother (I like to think) a heartfelt kiss and flew off to film some highly important event or another . It was just how it was. My mother never felt the need to complain.

My father eventually made the ultimate career sacrifice for his family. He turned his back on film and signed a contract to work on a local television show. Now he was home every night (albeit after my baby sister and I were in bed some nights) and we had a normal family life...or so I thought.

Turns out that growing up in the shadow of the television OR film industry makes you different from other kids. For starters, television doesn't move you quite so much when you have been on set watching it being shot. the magic is not lost, but for me, it is a different kind of magic.

Since I can remember, I have been called on to have an opinion on the lighting/direction of any given shot on any given programme or film that my father happens to be charitably and cheerfully pulling apart. I have dissected, analysed, berated and applauded duly, since I could talk.

When, as a chld, I cried because my favourite horse, Black Beauty, was hurt, Daddy gallantly dried my tears and explained that they had used a product called "Technicolor R" to imitate the effect of blood and that Black Beauty herself was not a single horse, but a selection of Reg Dent trained Stallions, merely "acting" whilst Daddy filmed. Junior Me was now calmer but cynical.

Grotbags always scared me however. Still does. To this day, I cannot stand to be around fat, green people.

I didn't plan to work in the same industry as my father, it just happened that way, because I guess you gravitate towards what you know.

I didn't plan to have children with a man in the Film Industry either. In fact when I met the father of my eldest two children, he worked laying tarmac; I wouldn't have been interested if he was just another Cameraman or Director...I liked how far removed from my world he was.

With a little help from the well documented nepotism of the industry, he too forged a (now very successful) career as a Key Grip. fair play to the fellow (who is now my ex)...the business is not a kind one and the path not an easy one.

There was a week many years ago when we lived entirely on the various flavours of Farley's Rusks, havng no money for anything but the bulk baby supplies bought at the beginning of the month; all because a film hadn't started when it was scheduled to, and we were too young to care to budget for such eventualities. There were other times when a film job wasn't even on the horizon and he modestly went out to earn money on the bins. he worked hard for his career, no doubt about it; what most people don't realise is just how hard most freelancers work in this fickle world of motion picture, and how very few survive more than a couple of years without the support of others around them.

So...I kept the world turning back at home whilst he went off a made movies; explaining to the children "don't worry darling, she's not really hurt...it's just Technicolor R".


*if you bend the definition oh so slightly (!)