Asked to write a diary for The Spectator, my first reaction was: ‘Why me?’ To sit down at my laptop and write — rather than read a script — feels a bit strange. I am still getting used to people wanting to know about me. A mere nine weeks ago I was anonymous, now I can’t move for those bloody paps. er, well, not quite, although I sometimes get a bit stared at, and a surprising lot of men express how much they enjoyed Call the Midwife. I even got a free biscuit from the man in the buffet car on the train to Hereford. My dream, however, is to play wildly different characters, so here’s hoping. (Fast forward to Series 15: a haggard-looking Jenny cleaning her glass enema tube. Yeuch….)
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In the theatre, unlike TV, you know instantly (boy do you know) whether the audience is bored out of their brain or wide-eyed and in awe. So I was lucky to be playing Beatrice-Joanna in The Changeling at the Young Vic while Call the Midwife was being aired. My character could not have been further removed from the observant and reserved Jenny; a lusty, murderous, front-footed woman completely overtaken by passion… and if I tell you that in this production passion is expressed through jelly, trifle and strawberry jam — well, you can imagine what a sticky end I came to. You’ve got to love those Jacobeans.
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I am utterly opposed to the plans for the NHS. It feels like a complete dismantling of everything the system first stood for. Call the Midwife really championed the NHS and that’s one of the things I loved about it. Our free health service is the very backbone of our country, and I feel now like that backbone is being snapped.
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