As a boy, my mother used to take me for a weekly visit to the cinema. I loved it. We clocked up westerns, musicals, comedies, war movies and lots more. And just about every Victor Mature film going - a special favourite of my mum’s. If you are a regular reader of this blog you will know that I have a bit of a thing about films. Well, in 1953 we went to see a film called, ‘Trouble in Store’. It stared Norman Wisdom and I was absolutely smitten by him and also became slightly obsessed. In the film, he sang a song called ‘ Don’t Laugh at Me ‘Cos I’m a Fool’. It turned into a big hit. If you’re ever in particularly cheesy mood have a little listen.
Anyway, one of my other regular outings was a visit to the barber for my short back and sides. On this particular day, I was sitting on the bench seat waiting my turn to be served. I started thumbing through the magazines. I picked up a copy of Picturegoer (a film mag of the period). The cover featured a picture of Norman Wisdom...Even better there was a centre spread of him. I wanted it, had to have it. Very slowly I started to dislodge the staples, looking around as I did so, at the row of men puffing away on their pipes and cigarettes, just to make sure I wasn’t being observed. When the page became detached I carefully folded it in two, taking care to be sure that the barber hadn’t spotted my slight of hand. Once removed from the magazine I casually shoved it up the front of my pull over.
‘Next’, came the voice. My heart started to thump. As I rose up I could hear the crackling of the paper beneath my jumper. Throughout the haircut I sat motionlessly and bolt upright, thinking any moment the hairdresser would discover my misdemeanour. Every time I breathed in I could hear the crackling of the pages. My cheeks were burning, my pulse rate quickening. I wished I hadn’t done it.
‘There you go sonny, that’ll be 2/6p’. I jumped out of my skin. Got out of the chair and followed the barber to the till. The sound of the pages rubbing against my Fair Isle jumper seemed even louder as I travelled the length of the shop, and I was even hotter.
I paid my 2/6p and ran out of the shop and was halfway down the road before I felt safe enough to extract my booty. There was Norman resplendent in a black, orange duotone. Perfect for my bedroom wall.
This event stayed with me for years. In the 1970s I recalled the event in this autobiographical painting…
The reason for telling this story is simple; all of your life is an inspiration. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life. Now, where have I heard that before?
And poor Norman Wisdom is now tucked away in a home somewhere on the Isle of White suffering from the dreaded Alzheimer’s disease. So sad.
POST SCRIPT: Norman Wisdom died on October 4, 2010 aged 95.