the time I met Mel Gibson

While Blogger is being a bugger about uploading images, I'll tell you a story. Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I'll begin.

Last Sunday in Melbourne my friend Marlowe, with whom I stay, had a lovely luncheon party for a few friends (naturally I cooked). Marlowe is a wonderful actor but, like many artists of all stripes in this anti-Art country, he has to suplement his income doing Another Job. (Now, throughout this story I am going to try very hard to preserve everybody's anonymity, so please bear with me as I circumlocate various identifying aspects of the story.) Okay, so Marlowe works for some kind of governmental agency, outdoors on a scooter, going daily from street to street, stopping here and there along the way. One of the luncheon guests (remember, we are in Melbourne last Sunday) also works for this same, er, service. He brought along his wife, whom none of us had met before.

Well, she was charming & fun & a wonderful contributor to the day, which I must say went on a very long time. But what the hey, there was plenty of delicious food & refreshing domestic rose. As the afternoon wore on, stories were told, to the hilarity of the company. At some point, Charming Wife off-handedly told a story about how, when she was a teenager, she lived in a certain beachside suburb of Sydney starting with C. (No, not Bondi, but you can walk from there). She and her little mates had heard a rumour that a Certain Big Film Star lived in a particular house overlooking the sea. This Film Star was born in America, but had grown up in Sydney. At that time he was Madcap, now we would call him just Mad, I think. Anyway, she & her little mates would play "ring & run away" at the door of this Film Star.

"Oh," I said, "so that was you".

Let me take you back to the mid-Eighties. I had just finished Acting School. (Yes, there was a time Cissy had dreams of stardom, but it was not to be. Though I will say I am playing a Finn in a Korean advertisement for table salt filming on Sunday, but I digress.) One of my great pals from Acting School was a chap called, let's say, Onald. He was closely related to this Madcap Film Star. Onald lived in the house at C----- Beach owned by his brother (whoops) that was known in the neighbourhood and at which schoolgirls would knock & ring & run away. As I spent a lot of time hanging out there, I had witnessed for myself this after-school prank.

So Charming Wife & I had a laugh - just think, all those years ago we were either side of that door. "We never knew if it really was his house," she said. "Oh, it was, but he was never there," I said. But that is not strictly true.

I started by wanting to tell you of the time I met *ahem hemhem*. It happened one day that I called my friend Onald. Ring ring. "Hello" said a familiar, deep, slightly American-accented Australian voice. "Oh hi, Onald," I said, "it's Cissy calling, just wanted to say blah de blah cascade of crap." There was a pause. "Well, actually," lovely deep warm amused voice said, "it isn't Onald. This is Mel." My bottom fell off and my voice rose two octaves. "Oh ha ha ha ha ha," I quipped hysterically, "well, you certainly sound very much alike." "Yes we do". My voice then reached a pitch that made the dogs howl. "Just tell him I called would you?" and I hang up.

That's it. That's the story. (My mother loved that story.) But it's made me think about my old pal Onald. There was a time we were close & I thought of him as a very good friend. He disappeared to America, oh, long ago, saying he would be gone for six weeks. We never heard from him again. He pops up in every Icon film - a line here and there. For the sake of our old friendship, I hope he is happy and peaceful. And for me, well, I'd like to think I will meet him again one day.

And on the subject of the circling round of time (yes, that really is our subject) the Saturday before last by chance I met my best friend's husband's brother's girlfriend's sister, and she remembered me from twenty-five years ago when she was dating a man I was sharing a house with. Apparently, I gave her a shirt.