My first attempt at treading the boards was when I was six years old. I had landed one of the lead roles in our Girls' Brigade parents' night, and was beside myself in anticipation as I practiced for hours until I got it just right.
What was the glittering part I had found myself honing my acting skills for? The Ugly bloody Duckling, that's what. I wasn't exactly Bonnie Langford, no leading role in Cinderella or the Sleeping Beauty for me.
I remember it vividly. It involved wearing a yellow duck-shaped plastic bucket on my head that was so big that it covered my face, and mastering a waddle that has stayed with me into my forties. I recall feeling vaguely humiliated as my head sweated under my plastic disguise, but my mum was so proud as she snapped away on her camera.
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