JJ's Bafta Report 

OOOooh Spooks has been nominated for a BAFTA! Having read this juicy piece of info at RichardArmitageNet, a plethora of questions tumbled into my head, work completely forgotten in a quest for answers: When is it? Where is it? Will my partner in all things RA crime be working? And of course the most important question of all: will the man himself be there? A quick search of the BAFTA website answered the first two, a text from my young cousin in darkest Essex arrives a short time later, confirming she will be there no matter what and will await further instructions. Thus the decision was made subject to RA attending…..a plan begins to formulate!

Feeding my other addiction the weekend before the BAFTA’s at the Palladium I take the opportunity to do a little reconnaissance worthy of military manoeuvres to establish which way the red carpet will run and where our best vantage point might be. The only piece of information still missing from my cunning plan is whether RA will be there. On Friday a little birdie Tweets to confirm that RA is presenting and will be at the BAFTA’s, next stop Argyll Street London W1.

I don’t think that my mother has ever cooked Sunday lunch for 11:30 before and piggy that even I am I have never eaten one quite so early, but for what promises to be a very long time standing around we need sustenance. Emerging from Oxford Circus Station, a chappie very much in the know points us in the direction of the queue for the public pens, the hospital like tags that we are given to wear around our wrists are numbered 130 and 131, so there are a few people in front of us. When the queue starts to move it moves very quickly and we are soon back where we started and the same very much in the know chappie explains that “we can choose our own pen and location, if we want the pen right at the top we need to go all around the outside, so choose and take up position”. The pens at the very start of the red carpet are already filling up and people are very territorial. My cousin and I noticed that the pen right the very top just past the main entrance to the Palladium was empty, so we opted for that. What a fabulous decision this turns out to be as we discover it is right next to the press pen where EVERYONE will be coming to have their pictures taken.

We watch and exchange banter with the people in charge of security and looking after the celebrities, always pays to make friends. It certainly did in this instance, as when the heavens opened for a brief shower we were duly loaned an umbrella ~ thanks Sean! By now it is still only 3pm nothing is due to start until 5.30pm but there is plenty to watch and amuse us, not to mention the horror of a muddy footprint on the red carpet and the copious rehearsals of Michael Underwood and Angelica Bell. By the time they had finished, even I knew what she was supposed to say.

The press arrived at around 5ish. They were allocated their slots by raffle tickets and file into their pen like caged lions at feeding time, all vying for poll position and complaining that if the sun comes out the light will ruin their shots. They set up their high tech equipment, laptops, cameras, iPhones and the obligatory step ladder ready for the for that quintessential red carpet shot.

The pen that my cousin and I chose still only has a half a dozen people in and now they are closed. With us are two delightful amateur photographers who ironically come from Essex. People start to go into the Palladium, but no one we recognise, they must be behind the scenes people. We hear a cheer go up from the start of the red carpet and a text to one of the other people in our pen from a friend further down tells us people are starting to arrive.

There was much “oh that’s whatshername from thingy”, “oh look it him from you know” and “oooo isn’t that?”

Scanning the small throng of people waiting to head to “our end” of the carpet, my radar spots a VERY familiar face, gorgeous head and very broad shoulders above all the others. Even from 50 feet away the man stands out in a crowd. A sharp dig in the ribs for my cousin alerts her to the fact that the person we have been waiting for has finally arrived. As he steps from the throng and towards us he cuts a very dashing and handsome figure in lightly pinstriped evening suit, snow white dress shirt, perfect bow tie and exquisite choice of footwear (I am a shoe fiend) quick take a picture remember to breathe.

I am usually good at multitasking but I am not usually standing a few feet away from Richard Armitage, when all sense of coordination let alone anything else seem to have deserted me at a frightening rate of knots. My cousin is shooting away like it’s an Olympic Sport muttering away behind her camera, I think it is the first time in about five hours that I have been speechless! He walks, no he strides confidently toward the press rabble, even if I am sure I did notice a deep breath beforehand, a slightly nervous but none the less devastatingly attractive smile ~ swoon ~ firmly in place he faces the press.

It is at this point that my cousin becomes shall we say a tad disgruntled that RA is not looking in our direction anymore but has his eyes firmly facing front! Having stood for sooooooooooooo long she is not about to be outdone by anyone. The other side of the press pack are shouting instructions at Miranda Raison, who accompanied Richard along the carpet, to smile, look over here etc etc etc, the instructions are deafening.

It is at this point I hear the not so dulcet tones of my cousin drifting through the air “Oi Richard over here we are much better looking than that lot”. Noooooo I cannot believe she did that, but not to worry RA will not have heard over the cacophony of instructions being shouted at Miranda. No such luck, looking up from my camera I come face to face with a huge grin and twinkling pair of baby blues. No, even worse than I thought, not only did he hear her but he thinks it was me!!!!!

He takes a step closer at which point, the person to my left that I now want to disown completely shouts “YEAH” in an equally loud voice, at least taking the suspicion off me. The fixed smile that dissolved into a huge grin is now an out and out laugh, not sure if it was for my cousin’s over exuberance or the look of sheer horror that was most certainly pinned to my face, as she decides to impart to RA, whose undivided attention we now have, that she preferred leather. Whether he heard that over the rising din of the press pack I don’t know, one can only hope that he didn’t……………….

By now the press have RA in their sights and viewfinders and he is on the receiving end of the verbal instructions. Between telling my cousin I cannot believe you did that, I remember to take some more pictures before a still smiling Richard Armitage walks away and into the London Palladium.

A few more shots of yet more soap stars, Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton, the wonderful Julie Walters and a wickedly funny Lenny Henry with Diversity and it was all over! My poor feet were screaming for mercy, my mouth was craving a cuppa and my stomach was thinking my throat had been cut, but did any of this matter? Not on your life, for those few precious moments and those equally precious photos it was more than worth it.

We couldn’t do any more standing around, so we didn’t jump on the tube to South Kensington to the after show party at the Natural History Museum. Instead it was a mad dash home to watch the BAFTA’s on the telly ~ Mum put the kettle on!

Many thanks JJ for writing this for us xx