Worst childhood memory?
When my grandmother died. I didn’t really understand death. I was 10, and I was like, “She’s died,” then about a week later I woke up in the middle of the night and I suddenly realised that I’d never see her again. I can still remember that feeling of loss. I must have cried for about an hour solid. I just couldn’t stop. My older sister was trying to comfort me and, and I was saying, “Grandma will never come back. I’ll never see her again.” It was the first time in my life that I realised when somebody dies, they are gone forever.
Worst moment of your life?
Being told, in my thirties or forties, by my mother that she had terminal pancreatic cancer. And what was even worse was that she had been totally alone when the consultant had told her. He had simply said to her, “We’ve got the results of your tests Mrs Steadman and you’ve got terminal pancreatic cancer. There is nothing we can do.” Then he walked out, and she had to process that information alone until me and my two sisters arrived at the hospital in Liverpool the following day. I was so furious I wrote down what I wanted to tell the surgeon then read it out. “How dare you do this!” I said. “You are not to tell my mother that she has between two to six months to live. If you do that the quality of her life will be nothing.” When we took Mum home, I said to her, “The surgeon thinks he’s God, but he knows no better than you or me how long you have got left. The main thing is to stay positive and look after yourself,” and in the end, she lived for two years.
Worst review you ever got?
Any bad review hurts and I don’t normally read them, but I was in a show which wasn’t great for various reasons, and when it opened up, a review came on BBC Radio. One presenter asked the other, “What did you think of it?” and the woman said, “Well, what Alison Steadman thought she was doing, I don’t know,” and just went on and on saying horrible things. It was the worst review I’ve ever had. I went over to the radio and before she’d carried on, I just thought, “I’ve got to perform tonight, this isn’t going to do me any good,” and turned it off. I brushed it off because you’ve got to, but it’s like someone saying to you, “You’re really ugly. And your breath smells. And nobody wants to be your friend.” It’s as bad as that. I’ve never had that by the way.
Worst colleague you ever had?
I have worked with a particular director who was so nasty to me and so bullying and horrible that I thought, “If this is what it’s like, I’m going to give up the business.” I hadn’t been in the business very long. She ended up being a top BBC producer, and winning a BAFTA, thank you very much, and she was a nasty cow. If ever I see anyone being even slightly, in any way bullied, I would step in and say, “No, this is not how we do our best work.”
Worst decision you ever made?
Not learning to play the piano. I did try when I was 60. I bought myself an electric piano and I got some lessons, and worked on it for three and I was able to play a little bit. Then I got a job, and I couldn’t concentrate anymore because I was filming, so I let it go and I haven’t really got it back. And now I’ve got a bad hand. I’ve got Dupuytren’s, which is something which grows on the tendons of your hand and pulls your fingers in, so I can’t straighten my right hand now, so I couldn’t play the piano even if I wanted to. It’s never going to happen now, which is a shame as I love the piano.
Out of Character by Alison Steadman is published by HarperCollins.