Grotesque and unseemly

Back in February I wrote about the huge part Ian Richardson played in my life (see Old and desolate). On Tuesday, three months after his death, a memorial service was held at the Actors’ Church – St Paul’s Covent Garden. My partner and I were lucky to be able to attend it. Here you will find a lovely account of what it was like, by the writer Brian Sibley, and here a complete list of all the famous theatre/film/TV folk who came to pay tribute to their late colleague .

What these articles don't mention is that Helen Mirren started crying even before the service began and could hardly be heard when she read out the moving ‘Dirge Without Music’ by Edna St Vincent Millay. It was very endearing.

What they don't tell you either is that we all came out of the church to be met by a swarm of paparazzi, professional autograph hunters and pushy elderly fans of both sexes. What is wrong with these people? Have they no shame?! OK, there had been laughter as well as tears during the service, but this was still a sad occasion. Who turns up at such an event and behaves as if it were a press night? I always thought that celebrities were fair game, that if you spent your life courting publicity you couldn’t complain if your privacy was invaded. I have changed my mind.

We were chatting with the actor Michael Pennington (whom I’ve known for 30 years) when a man sidled up to him, opened a folder and asked him to sign photos of himself. Michael, who’s the gentlest of souls, signed photo after photo – five or six, I think – with good grace. We were indignant on his behalf. When I said, ‘How much will these fetch on eBay?’, the guy pretended they were for a friend of his in New Zealand!

Most of the famous folk let themselves be photographed too: the last thing anyone wants is to be splashed all over the tabloids and being described as unhelpful and rude to ‘the great British public’. It was painful to watch.

After saying hello to a few more people and being stared at a lot (‘Are they famous, do you think?’ ‘Nah, don’t bother with them!’), we walked away and wandered around Covent Garden. About an hour later, we went in search of somewhere to eat. We ended up in Catherine Street and walking past one of the restaurants we noticed a couple of the autograph hunters who’d been at the church earlier, standing outside in the cold, apparently waiting for something, or someone. Obviously, a few of the ‘celebrities’ were having lunch there. They were going to be accosted and pestered again when they came out.

Slap!