Read an extract from Getting Away With Murder by Lynda La Plante.
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Preface
Ask me about any of the characters in my books, the twists and turns of a plot line or the reason a scene got filmed the way it did, and I remember everything. Ask me about my own life, and I haven’t the faintest clue. I suppose I’ve spent much of it looking outwards, plucking anecdotes and jokes, mannerisms and dialogue from everyone I’ve ever met.
But ‘The Memoir’ got commissioned and ‘The Memoir’ has loomed large in my mind for the past year or so. Why on earth did I agree to do it? I’ve never been great at peering in. I’ve had to bring out my files, notebooks and photographs to piece much of the past together. Some days I’ve howled with laughter. Other days it’s felt like tiptoeing barefoot over broken glass – memories that shatter the emotions. Sleepless nights, I’ve had a few. Why did I do that? How did I do that? Lynda, what the hell were you thinking? And some days I’ve forgotten absolutely everything. What year did I get married? Turns out I was ten years out!
Age creeps up on you. Unbelievable that I turned eighty-one this year. Eighty-one? If any of my friends reach this age I think, Christ Almighty! They’re getting on a bit! I simply don’t see myself as old. And I don’t feel it, either.
‘May I say, you’re looking remarkable for your age,’ a receptionist told me only a couple of years ago. I’d arrived at hospital for a procedure and filled out one of those laborious medical forms.
‘Why, thank you!’ I was seventy-nine at the time, feeling rather anxious about hitting the big 8-0.
‘Well, whatever you’re doing it’s working!’
‘So kind.’ I smiled.
I’ve never had Botox. Or a face lift . Or any other kind of lift . All my body parts remain my own. I still work every day, averaging two novels a year alongside several TV projects. Must keep me young, I thought.
The doctor looked somewhat surprised too.
‘Lynda, my God! I had no idea you were ninety-seven!’
Ah. Did I mention I’m dyslexic and I’d forgotten to put my glasses on?
Admittedly, there is the odd occasion when I’ve felt every bit my age. My eightieth birthday was spent in a swanky London restaurant with my son, Lorcan, and his girlfriend. They chose the restaurant; I paid the bill – it was eye-watering.
‘Madam, would you like the meat matured in Somerset sun and simmered with the bark of a tree for twenty-four hours?’ the waiter asked.
No, thank you.
‘No, really, Ms La Plante, the chef has bathed it in rhubarb and sprinkled it in beetroot dust!’
I’m the sort of person who’s repelled even by sushi. If I have to poke a dead fish, I’m off. Give me good old-fashioned meat and two veg any day. As for the portions served in restaurants these days? I’ve got eyeballs that are larger. And don’t young people dress for dinner anymore? I turned up in a sequinned jacket looking like a Russian whore; my son came dressed like he’d climbed out of a tent at Glastonbury. It’s no wonder we were politely moved from the open dining hall to behind a pillar.
At home I feel as though I’m turning into my mother: every day circling in red pen what I want to watch in the TV guide, then yelling at the screen if I have to sit through one more bloody commercial. Juggling which remote is for what device has become a circus act.
So much has changed since I began my career aged fifteen in 1958. Far too young, when I think about it now. I’ve been an actor, screenwriter, producer and author. I’ve seen a lot, and been through a lot in a tough industry. I’ve met the great, the good and the bloody awful. And I hope I’ve gained some wisdom along the way that I can share.
In other respects, so little has changed. Storytelling has been my life, all of my life. I wrote my first TV series on a prehistoric typewriter and now I’m making podcasts. I’ve yet to master TikTok, and I’m hoping I can dodge that medium. But exactly the same fascination with the world drives me. I love exploring the light and the dark that everyone has within them. As you’ll discover, I have all that and more in me too! So strap in for the ride. It’s going to be one helluva journey.
Extracted from Getting Away with Murder by Lynda La Plante.
Getting Away With Murder
by Lynda La Plante
The hilarious and moving tell-all memoir from the UK's queen of crime drama.
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