Hob Nobs

So after a few weeks under the blue canopy of LA life, meeting various industry people of and eating lots of breakfast tacos (the future by the way), I’m back to the grey skies and wintery embrace of London and it’s pre-Christmas excitements.

This time whilst out in LA I had my headshots done by the excellent David Muller in his East Hollywood studio. He’s the kind of man with a 3 month waiting list, so I felt lucky to snag a last-minute session after a cancelation, so I jumped at the chance to work with him. As you can see, we had an effortless session:

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Another exciting meet-up was with my future agent. Arriving outside of the Wilshire Blvd skyscraper, I gazed up at this intimidating monolith of success and nervously stumbled into reception trying to keep composure. I signed in and a suited lady showed me into the elevator, swiped a magic card and pressed a button. “The button of destiny” I thought, “The floor of dreams, the office of…” PING! The elevator door opened almost as quickly as I got in. No time to get composed, I quickly checked my refection in the mirrored doors and bumbled into their office, trying not to be too British (I have a tendency to over play myself, like a kind of bad impression of Prince George from Blackadder) “Hello, erm, hi, and hello. I am, erm, David. David McCusker, I have an 11.30 appointment.” Two little eyes appeared from behind a decorative pumpkin on a desk and I was told to sit and wait.

Plonking myself on a giant sofa I helped myself to the bowl of Halloween candy, picking out a plastic-tasting chocolate ghoul. I glanced out to the view of the Hollywood hills in the distance and tried to look comfortable on the enormous seat. This was my second meeting with this agency and was surprisingly more nervous the second time around. Perhaps it was because I was kept waiting that led to that creeping self-doubt to appear in my head. We all have it, don’t we? The thought that any second now we’re going to get ‘found out’. Maybe they’d see I’m just a fraud too? A total charlatan winging his way through life. My talents were nought! Who was I kidding? WHAT AM I DOING HERE? my mind screamed at me like a Munch painting. “Sorry, David?” The eyes behind the pumpkin said, suspending my inner diatribe. “Yes?” I replied nervously, still with candy in my gums, “They’re ready to see you now.” and before I had time to continue my inner monologue of self-loathing I was being hugged by my new agent. “Welcome back! Great to see you!” and the self-doubt melted away like the weird chocolate stuck in my mouth.

With a successful meeting in the bag and my neurotic moment behind me, I found myself in the sunshine eating a bag of freshly chopped mangoes (a $5 bargain) from one of the food carts parked outside the offices. Popping a slippery slice in my chops, I smiled to myself thinking about my future life, knowing I had a great team supporting me when I finally make the big push West. Now there’s something I never expected to happen – actually having a US agent. It all felt very surreal. Now I just need to get this visa secured… aye, there’s the rub!

My lovely girlfriend pulled up and we drove over to Valley sharing the fruit and the good news. We were on our way to meet some English chums who made the move to LA the previous year. English biscuit gifts had been located by her’s truly and so it was afternoon tea by the pool. Another surreal moment checked off – dunking Hob-Nobs in my PG with palm trees on my peripheral. For a moment I feared I would become one of those ex-pats having a fry-up in the midday sun, harping on in my new strange transatlantic accent about the old country, “England? Oh, don’t miss it. Not one bit.” whilst shovelling black pudding in my gob. I looked down admiring that English chocolate melts very quickly on a biscuit in America. Maybe this wouldn’t be regular pastime after all.