From Chapter Eighteen: Pottering About 

       There was one memorable occasion when I got to have a long chat with the older and more established actors. It was during a long night shoot when we had to wait a long time between shots while the special-effects people arranged all their gizmos for a particularly explosive sequence.

      We were outside, and I was flattered to see that my chair had been put in a group with Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith (Minerva McGonagall) and Michael Gambon (Albus Dumbledore).

      The four of us sat, in full costume, huddled around a tiny heater chatting through the night. Michael was a masterful storyteller and told some incredible tales with fantastic punch lines – most of which I can’t remember – and I’ve been sworn to secrecy for those that I do.

      It was sometimes hard for me to follow the conversation because they’d use first names. For example, Michael might ask, ‘Have you worked with Robert?’ and then you’d realise five minutes later that he was talking about de Niro.

      But there was one subject about which we both were experts.

      ‘What do you think of these beards, Warwick?’ Michael asked.

      ‘Well, they’re a bit of a pain, to be perfectly honest.’

      ‘Yes, they most certainly are, these wisps get absolutely everywhere. If I use my arms and wand it always gets entangled and I yank the thing right off my face. And don’t get me started on food. Dinner is a total nightmare.’

      I nodded in wholehearted agreement.

      A couple of days later, we were having lunch in full costume when Michael sat down at the table with a large canvas bag. He tied it around his neck and placed his beard inside and then was able to eat his tagliatelle without having to worry about consuming half of his beard at the same time.

      How did the lucky sod get one of those? I wondered, as I battled with forks, pasta and hair.

      Michael also loved a joke. After lunch one day, Michael’s make-up artist was removing his beard-bag before a shot. As she pulled it away she was amazed to see that Michael had woven a string of prawns, vegetables and other foody assortments into the beard.

      ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ the famous actor said innocently.

      ‘Um . . . um,’ the flustered make-up artist replied, ‘your beard, er . . .’

      ‘Oh these! Well, that’s just in case I get a bit peckish, dear girl.’ 

©Warwick Davis – Aurum Press