Sladen, Elisabeth - Elisabeth Sladen - The Autobiography

As soon as we were back on terra firma I declared, ‘Right, I’m obviously jinxed. No more flying.’ So, while everyone else flew down to the Scilly Isles for our next recording date, I took the sleeper train to Penzance and then a boat. The director was worried I might run off so he sent someone with me! The train was rattling so much we didn’t sleep a wink, so we both arrived a day late and miserable through lack of sleep. I’m sure they loved me!

* * *

It was while we were staying with my folks during the Playhouse run that I got quite the strangest message.

Mum had taken the call. ‘Elisabeth,’ she said, ‘a man called Frank Kilbride wants to talk to you about landscape gardening, I think. He kept mentioning stepping stones.’

‘OK …’

Gingerly I picked up the phone. I’d barely got ‘hello’ out before I was deluged by a breathy torrent of words in the thickest Yorkshire accent. I managed to pick the odd one out. Yep, he definitely said ‘stepping stones’, but it was nothing to do with gardening. Frank Kilbride was a producer – Stepping Stones was his programme for pre-schoolers.

‘And I thought you would be perfect for it,’ he said, ‘with that lovely, warm personality.’

Now, this was before my Merry-Go-Round had aired. Somehow he’d decided I could front a children’s show. I don’t know if it was seeing me on Swap Shop or Nationwide , or if he was just taking a punt because I didn’t appear to be working (out of telly, out of mind), but he was right – I was looking for something. And after a quick chat with him over at Yorkshire Television a few days later, I’d found it.

To say time was scarce on Stepping Stones was an understatement. The frenzied whirl of studio days at Who seemed positively luxurious by comparison. I don’t think I’d received a single script before I boarded my train up to Leeds – and I was due to record the first of five episodes that afternoon!

It was chaotic but I had a good vibe about this project, right from the off. Frank was a sweetie and had sorted me out with a local landlady, May Brown, who ran a dear little guesthouse on the York Road opposite the Tadcaster Road racecourse. I had the best front room, bacon sandwiches when I got in, meals on a tray in my room if I wanted. Perfect.

Frank’s mind was always whirring. It seemed like I’d barely arrived when I began receiving calls from the local press. At first I thought, Wow, they really support their local programme-makers . Then as soon as I did the interviews I realised they just wanted to know the inside scoop on a former Who girl. Bear in mind I was still amazed every time an autograph hunter popped up, I genuinely didn’t think the media would still be interested in what I was up to a couple of years down the line. Luckily for Stepping Stones , Frank was cannier than that.

It says a lot for Frank’s priorities that after coming up trumps in sorting me out with beautiful May and stirring up press interest, he then completely omitted to mention my co-star on the show.

I got to the studio for the first time and I heard a familiar voice.

‘Hello, chuck, how are you? Are you going to join us?’

Keith Barron was already a highly respected actor at the time. For years, he’d worked solidly on serials and one-offs and also had a decent list of film credits to his name (and would pop up in Who during Peter Davison’s era, a few years later). Quite why he’d chosen to present this show was unclear – maybe his agent was even less sharp than mine! – but I was suddenly glad that he had. From his opening ‘Hello, chuck’, I felt completely at home – but I still hadn’t seen a word of script!

Somehow in two-and-a-half days we managed to film five episodes! Arrive in the morning, rehearse, record, lunch, then another rehearsal, another recording session. Bang, bang, bang! Then it was off to the bar for a drink and back to May Brown’s. I liked my routine but Frank, typically, worried about me being alone.

‘Come on, Lis,’ he said, ‘I’ll take you back in my car to meet the family. We’ll have a nice bit of Yorkshire ham.’ So I’d meet his wife and children every time I went up and then he’d drive me back to York Road. Frank was such a chatterer and bundle of energy and so thoughtful that you felt like you were out on a jolly every night.

We had very little time in the studio but Frank made that fun as well. Always talking, always on the move, up and down those gantry steps all day … You couldn’t go five minutes without him popping out to call encouragement or improvements, or just laughing. I think his energy must have been rubbed off on the First, because he had a nervous arm. You didn’t know if he was flagging a horse down or telling you to start. His arm would be going nineteen to the dozen and Keith and I would be staring at each other: ‘Was that a cue? Was that a cue?’

I had such fun working with Keith. On one of our first episodes we were kneeling down next to a table that had a toy train set on it. As the train chuffed round and round its track we had to sing: ‘Bippetyboo, bippetyboo, I’m on a train, I’m off to loo.’ Then ‘zipperty zoo, zipperty zoo’, and so on: it was simple but silly.

The First gave one of his funny cues, then I started singing, but all I heard from Keith was ‘bippety – whooooh !’ I looked round and he’d disappeared under the track!

Retakes were rare as hen’s teeth so I had to carry on – even though I could see Keith’s backside sticking out from under the table while he tried desperately to stay out of shot. I don’t know how I got through it. By the time I finished I was laughing so hard the mascara was streaming down my face. Afterwards Keith said, ‘Oh my God, Chucky, I’m so sorry – but as soon as you said “Bippetyboo” I thought, What am I doing here? I can’t do this any more! ’

He left shortly after that!

We did a good deal of filming outside the studio as well – nothing that required flying, thank goodness. I remember being sent to lots of farms and very quickly realised that I do not like the smell of animals. But there I was, week after week, standing in the middle of a goat herd or pig sty, saying, ‘Look at these delightful creatures!’ Frank decided we’d have a goat in the studio one week and of course it did the usual thing of making a mess. I thought I was going to gag. It’s affected me for life. I used to take Sadie to farms when she was young and I’d have to say, ‘You run through there and I’ll meet you at the other end.’

Just like on Merry-Go-Round , there was no clothes budget so you had to wear your own things. That was OK for the first few weeks, but even when you’re just putting different tops on with your jeans, you eventually start to run out. So I went to this old folks jumble sale and bought a horrendous bed jacket, which was the most incredible sickly pale green and pink, with a pink ribbon belt. I thought, If I wear this, they’ll have to get me some clothes . So I did.

And they couldn’t have been happier!

I must have done Stepping Stones for about two-and-a-half years (although the title changed at some point to My World ) and – apart from the farmyard aromas – I adored every minute of it. A couple of days’ work with delightful people every few weeks – what’s not to love?

Looking back, though, was it a mistake to stay rooted in a kids’ show for so long? Should I have been trying to do more ‘serious’ roles? After all, I’d just turned thirty – was I throwing my career away?

* * *

If I’d been worried about being perceived as a fluffy children’s personality, two events made me grow up – fast.