Yes I am busy. I am very very busy.

I was working on a film in Limerick some time ago. We were shooting at a tumbledown ruined castle near Limerick, miles from anywhere, in the freezing cold of a November morning.

People were tearing around, constructing tracks, winding up key lights, running around shouting into walkie talkies . Because I was Art Department, I had already finished most of my work by six, and  was ready for breakfast.

           As I neared the warm, inviting dining bus I was approached by the First assistant Director.

“Siggins! Are you busy? “ He yelled.

“No, but…” I answered.

That was my first mistake. “We need you to stand in for Daryl Hannah” he yelled, as camera crew raced around, trying to get things ready.

            “Daryl Hannah?” I yelled back above the din of lorries parking, tracks clattering and people shouting orders.
            “But I don’t…”
             “And we need you in a wedding dress, up there on the parapet of the Tower”.
             What should be made clear is that unless you're a senior crewmember, or Daryl Hannah, if you're given an order you must act on it without asking questions.
             I immediately repaired to the wardrobe department and asked them where this wedding dress could be found.
            “We haven’t got any wedding dress here. They'd have it back in Shepperton. You’ll have to go and get one. And make sure it’s exactly like the one we’re going to be using” she added, at the top of her voice.
           “What does the real one look like?” I shrieked.
           “ We haven’t designed it yet” came the reply.
           Back to the First assistant director, standing hip deep in a lake, shouting orders, and told him about the non existent wedding dress problem.

“Well just get something” he yelled.

            There was also the small matter of the fact that , being as I was a small, dark haired, dumpy person I did not bear even the slightest resemblance to Daryl Hannah.

             In fact  at that very  moment a blind man passed by on a galloping horse and shouted “She looks nothing like Daryl Hannah”, and continued on his way, laughing hysterically.
            I pointed out to the First Assistant Director that  one of the Riggers working on the scaffolding tower over there looked more like Daryl Hannah than I did or ever would.
            I waited for a reply, or at least an explanation. When I realised I was getting none I made my way to the Transport department to see if I could be driven to Limerick to find a wedding dress in a hurry. No one was available. Sighing with exasperation I jumped on my motorbike and headed for Limerick, freezing and starving.
            Not being familiar with the city I spent at least half an hour asking puzzled passersby if they knew where I could find a Bridal Wear shop in a hurry. At half eight in the morning. People started moving quickly away from me as I ran down the street, muttering and cursing.
            The Lady in the Bridal shop remained unruffled, in fairness to her, when I burst into her shop on the dot of nine and yelled “I need a wedding dress, quickly please. Anything will do. Anything. Here, give me that one.”

Returning to the back end of nowhere on my motorbike with freezing needles of rain pelting down and several yards of embroidered tulle blowing airily out the back of my knapsack, I wondered once again if perhaps I had made a mistake in deciding on a career in film work.

           “Quick. Get dressed, we need you up there now. Hurry UP” shouted the First Assistant Director, hustling me into a roofless, doorless shed to get changed.
            I emerged in all my finery, minus something old , something borrowed and the only blue thing being my frozen face.
            I was shoved in front of The Director, who glanced in my direction, muttered “Yeah, grand”, and shuffled off  to his nice warm caravan for coffee. It did at that point cross my mind that he could have cared less. But I kept my powder dry.
            I began my ascent up the tiny stone stairs, followed by a trainee with a length of rope.
            “What’s that for” I asked, as the rest of the crew snorted into their tea and choked on their Custard Creams.

“Well it’s to stop you falling off” he replied.

Until that moment I hadn’t considered the fact that I was about to walk along the parapet of a half rotten tower in a ruined castle , in a wedding dress that was about four sizes too big for me.

            Still no word as to whether there was any resemblance to the proper wedding dress; but then I decided this was only a minor issue as the person wearing it bore as much resemblance to Daryl Hannah as Peter Lorre to Cary Grant.
           “Hurry up. HURRY UP” shouted the Assistant Director as I bumbled and tripped up the stairs.
            The stairs ended. I was faced with a long ladder for my final ascent. What followed is best left to the imagination as the Trainee almost smothered trying to help me and my gorgeous train up the ladder to the parapet. Things were said. Profanities were exchanged.

We were about 80 feet above the ground. I looked down and saw the entire camera crew looking up at me. The trainee tied the rope around my waist. I wondered if this could be adorned with  a garland of flowers to dress it up a bit. I could see in the distance, the wardrobe mistress running toward the camera crew, having a canary , shouting and roaring at the First Assistant Director. I couldn’t hear much but the words “What are you ****ing playing at?” and “This is completely ****ing stupid” floated up to my lofty perch.

           “Up you get, love” shouted the First Assistant Director through his loud hailer . I turned to the trainee and asked, in the most menacing voice I could muster, that if by chance I did fall off the edge of the parapet, would he be able to hold on to me with that skimpy bit of rope and haul me back up again?
            “Oo er. Hadn’t thought of that” he sniggered.
             I did not snigger.
             To cut a long story short, I walked along the parapet. Several times. I did not have to worry about getting into character or what my motivation might be.

 The scene was shot moments before a violent thunderstorm broke and outdoor filming was abandoned for the day. Not being a senior crewmember, or Daryl Hannah,  I did not get any assistance with my descent. I finally made it back down 45 minutes later , cursing, freezing,  dripping and swearing only to find everyone had left for an early lunch with the proper Daryl Hannah and Peter O’Toole.

              I had a feeling anyway that this was probably not going to work, cinematographically. Turned out the Editor agreed with me and somewhere in a rubbish bin  in Shepperton studios there’s a tiny strip of film showing a short, grumpy, frozen, hungry female in a cheap, muck- stained wedding dress, muttering swearwords as she inches along a crumbling castle wall.

 So the lesson I learned that day was, if anyone asks “Are you busy?”

Always, ALWAYS say Yes.