#sunny jim | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scotianostra · 2 years ago

Text

The Scottish actor Alex McAvoy died on June 16th 2005.

Most famous for two roles, Sunny Jim in the original Para Handy tales of The Vital Spark, through the 60’s and the teacher in Pink Floyds, The Wall, McAvoy was much more than a two horse trick! the two roles you might know him from.

Throughout his career he was a stalwart of Scottish theatre, especially pantos, starring at the top theatres in Edinburgh and Glasgow. He was also a master of mime.

In the earlier part of his career, McAvoy ventured into the world of variety and light entertainment, and was the first foil to the kilted Scottish comedy singer Andy Stewart.

The summer show promoter George B Bowie envisaged him as a future star comedian, and headlined him in the holiday-season revue of 1963 at the Barrfields Pavilion, Largs. But despite success in that field, he was not cut out to be a Scotland-based funny man; a wider field, especially in mime, beckoned.

As a schoolboy growing up in Scotstounhill, Glasgow, second eldest of a family of eight, McAvoy was always an artistic lad, creating small puppets out of colourful old clothes and running his own mini-puppet theatre. He also loved to act.

The wee boy who just had to become an actor enhanced his love of the arts by enrolling for classes at the School of Art in Glasgow’s Renfrew Street; his first job was in the big fashion stores of the city, increasing the profits of the owners by dressing their windows with all the delicate artistry at his command. Young McAvoy had a flair for the arts, even in the sterner world of retail commerce.

Inevitably, in the fabulous 1950s, when Glasgow was seeing a new interest in the dramatic arts, he just had to join other aspiring thespians at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow’s Athenaeum building. The burgeoning Citizens’ Theatre in the Gorbals needed trained actors, which is why young McAvoy found himself alongside such future performers as John Cairney and (set to be a gem of television presenters) Mary Marquis. He had the built-in creative sense but he needed the basic study and training. Live theatre, especially in so vibrant a nursery as the Citizens’, then housed in the old Princess Theatre building, was to hone the talents of the lad from Scotstounhill.

Just look at his credits. Small parts and big parts, character roles in Z Cars and Dad’s Army, and meaty parts in Sunday night dramas. Old lags or angry army sergeants, McAvoy could transform each role into something truly realistic. He was also a performer in musicals, some of you might remember the original TV movie for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in 1972, before the 80’s revival, McAvoy starred as Joseph’s father Jacob in that, a role I know myself having appeared in my school production in 1978 as Jacobs youngest son, Benjamin. Other notable appearances include The Bill, Minder and the Peter Capaldi film, Strictly Sinatra alongside such Scottish stalwarts as Una McLean, Brian Cox, Iain Cuthbertson, Tommy Flanagan and Kelly McDonald.

Not everybody knows that McAvoy’s role as the Teacher made him a familiar face from Pink Floyd’s The Wall, the 1982 global cult film with Bob Geldof as a burned-out rock star. It spawned thousands of items of memorabilia, and McAvoy’s animated character in the college cap was seen on t-shirts around the world, introducing him to millions.

His love of mime was intense, and he made a mark, naturally, in the busy world of Scottish pantomime, with featured roles at the King’s theatres in Glasgow and Edinburgh. The mime in pantomime had strong appeal. One day, borrowing from his actress friend Mary Marquis a French vocabulary and phrase book, he crossed the Channel to Paris to study and work in L'Ecole de Jacques LeCoq. It had been his secret ambition to go there for some years.

LeCoq was his idol, and friends at the school say his miming skill was such that he could make anyone know what he was saying without words. He became deeply immersed in the international world of mime and right up to his death was still in touch with that famous school.

McAvoy had been ill from leukaemia for some years, but retained his link with live theatre and, before being hospitalised, had taken on a cameo part on the London stage. He was a sensitive man of the arts to the end. He died on 16 June, 2005, in London, aged 77.

#scotland #scottish #actor #sunny jim #television #theate #film

4 notes · View notes

beware-of-pity · 2 months ago

Text

Sins of the Father(s) II

Masterlist

Previous chapter - Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary :

Lunch goes better than you thought it would. if only you could stop having such...distracting thoughts.

Chapter II: You are here (and so am I)

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

He was late. At least ten minutes late.

He was late, and you were going to kill him. Well….not really. But you would reprimand him.

You sat there for ten minutes, waiting. You thought that perhaps you were just being dramatic, but with his personality shift in the past two years, you had begun doubting his every move. It’s not that you didn’t trust him, it’s just that he had not been…reliable in his words. He had promised, but then again, how many promises had he broken as of late?

You really didn’t need this right now. With everything going on in your life, possibly losing Bruce was not an option you were willing to let happen. You would fight tooth and nail to understand what was going on with him, and God willing, you were going to pry it out of him if he didn't tell you. For now, you’re contented with what he is willing to give you, understanding that prying into something he is not willing to tell you isn’t the best way to go about it.

He didn’t know, but you kept in close touch with Alfred and would instead seek updates about Bruce, when Bruce himself would not answer your calls, from him. Alfred, for his part, was as secretive about Bruce’s movements as Bruce was, though you never said anything about it. You were fine as long as you got something, even a crumb of a word, which Alfred was more than willing to give you. He adored you, after all, having watched you grow from the little girl he used to watch over when your family came over to the accomplished woman you had become today. If only you knew how much he hated lying or keeping secrets from you, how often he reprimanded Bruce about how he was acting, how much he was indulging in his nightly life more than his daily one. It was as hard for Alfred to watch as it was for you to understand his abrupt change in behaviour. But was it abrupt….or had you just not paid too much attention?

The more you thought of it, the more your head ached. How many details had you missed? How many red calls or flags had you ignored? Could you have known that things were going to change? Were you that blind? Were you…the one that neglected him first?-

It was no use to ponder over such a thing now. You were trying to fix things. But….just, where was he?

You slumped in your chair, the hardwood digging slightly at the skin under your clothes, a sensation that had yet to prove uncomfortable. You did this often, not that you noticed most times, or at least until your back would begin to ache from the position and your mother’s voice would ring in your head about sitting straight and how bad this habit of yours was for your posture and how you wouldn’t grow taller and how-

You sighed, where was he? Your finger came to massage at your temple.

Everything was starting to get to you. The faint piano playing in the background, the darkness of the place that opposed the rare sunny day outside, which the faint glow of the lamps stood as a replacement for. The slight chatter around you from the other patrons, the way your dress clanged to you, the way your hair sat and your earrings chimed as you moved or how your rings squeezed your fingers slightly. You felt stuffy, just as this restaurant was. You only hoped Bruce had a good excuse for why he was late.

…..but perhaps there was nothing to forgive when he was looking like that.

He entered the restaurant with the confidence of a beaten boy, as if he knew what awaited him once he reached the table. But it wasn’t the lines on his face or the eyes hidden away behind a dark pair of sunglasses that told you so, rather, it was his slightly slumped frame that did. You watched from your seat as he approached the reception to ask about the table you had reserved, only to realise there was no need to when he caught sight of you already looking at him while sitting at it.

He wasn’t dressed that differently from when he came to your house on Sunday, with a similar suit, though you thought this one looked more expensive. His dark coat helped hide his slumping, though not by that much. While he looked nice, you wondered who had dressed him like this. Despite being a billionaire and a well-earned one, most times, Bruce had no taste for fashion or the extravagance of it, unlike you, who indulged in the sin of appearance because of your line of work. You were expected to look nice, while Bruce, who barely got out of the house, preferred big shirts, baggy pants, and sports shoes at best. All dark of colour, of course. Just like his life, you could perhaps hear him say, and the thought only made you turn your head to hide a snort that would soon turn into a laugh had you not stopped yourself.

….He looked nice, it was a truth you couldn’t help but acknowledge. Maybe more than nice….

The sight now sitting before you was one you wouldn’t say was unusual but not exactly common, but one you welcomed with a strange fascination.

“Don’t you like nice?” You asked with a smile, perhaps one too broad, as your eyes skimmed his frame. It’s like you were eating him with them. “Had I known sooner you would have dressed this nice for me, I would have asked you out for lunch a long time ago” The joke didn’t fly over his head as he let out a dry chuckle.

“Alfred ironed this for me,” he said

“of course, he did” You didn’t expect any less “Still, my words are true. You look good” you paused “and you’re late”

As if he couldn’t hunch over more, he did so with a sigh “I know. I am” he said “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I just….had a long night of…work”

“I’m sure you did,” you said as you took sight of his slightly puffy eyes once he took the sunglasses off. As a result of, surely, many sleepless nights, not just the one before, “How much are you sleeping these days? You look worse than the last I saw you, and that was only four days ago”

“As much as I can” his words held a hint of defensiveness and dismissal in them, and that’s exactly what you didn’t want. When Bruce felt like he was threatened, especially when he mistook concern for prying into what he didn’t want others to see, he could get… mean, really mean, which was the last thing you needed if you wanted him to open up. You didn’t know if he did it willingly or as a sort of means of self-preservation, as a mechanism to hurt others before he got hurt. Nonetheless, the pain of his words did not sting any less, despite the many explanations and excuses you were willing to cover those wounds, caused by them, with.

You smiled apologetically “I know you are” Your words were soft and reassuring as if you were talking to a wounded animal, trying to console it from its pain, which, in your mind, the comparison with Bruce was not that far-fetched. He was pained and hurt, constantly so, and the lack of a gentle presence to soothe that pain was perhaps what he was lacking. If that’s what he needed, what his soul craved, you were more than willing to give it to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your mind now wandered. Was he deprived, or was he depriving himself? Had Bruce ever dated anyone? To your knowledge, he had never told you of any girl before. As he answered your question, you did everything but listen to him, your thoughts straying further than what you had just asked yourself.

Could it be? Had he just not told you about them? You had told him when you were thirteen of that classmate in your same class that you confidently said you would marry one day. But now you were both adults,and youthful love was just that, a make-believe tale caused by your lack of understanding of the subject. Your crush on that boy had not even lasted two months, all because of the ick you got when you discovered that the boy in question ate his buggers. How uncivil.

But Bruce….would he have told you if he was….in love?

Could he even fall in love? Would he know if he was in love? Could he distinguish such emotion from the many he felt or didn’t? It had seemed for a long time now that Bruce had set aside the entire notion of love. He was thirty and had yet to, formally, introduce anyone to you as his partner. Most of the peers his age were already married, been done with the bother of planning everything, perhaps with a child or two under the roof of their household and another on the way.

You were aware that in the flush of youth, there may be errors made. When one is young and embarks on the journey that is puberty, anything can happen. Sometimes, the body gets carried away, and the mind shuts itself to the desires of the heart, which results in a lot of pain and hurt. Breaches in resolve, lapses of morals, and misleading senses between the false and the truth were not impulses you were…unfamiliar with. You, too, had your fair share of baggage caused by your lack of senses and deceiving feelings. You made sure not to repeat the mistakes of the past now that you were more learned in the art of love.

But Bruce did not seem like the type of man to just go and be with anyone, less of all to indugle in the sin of carnal comfort in the arms of a stranger. He seemed to yearn for a connection, to be with someone who, perhaps, knew him better than he knew himself. The desire to be seen, understood, and open to the eyes of the person his heart beat for seemed stronger than the requirements men often looked for in a partner.

The possibility of Bruce marrying someone and having children with said person did leave you a bit…startled. You ignored the sour taste in the back of your tastebuds and the acid coming up your stomach as you shook your head, emptying the chaos in it. You found yourself shaken by what you had just thought over. How come you were thinking such things of Bruce of all people, the man you had grown up with? Was this jealousy?

You scoffed. Jealousy? Of what? Of…who? And for Bruce? Perhaps that chill you had caught on Sunday had made you sick. The season was in, and the flu ran rampant in the city. You should really consider passing by the clinic to get your seasonal shot.

“Did you hear what I said?” His voice, though it snapped you out of your thoughts, was neither demanding in its question nor annoyed, rather….worried? And with the softness of the murmur he always spoke with. You wet your lip as you nodded, not sure if you were trying to convince him or you more with it.

Throughout the lunch, you were more lost in your thoughts than you liked to admit. You had asked him here as a way for him to make up for all the time you had lost in the past year, and strangely enough, he, the more reserved of the two of you, was speaking more than you were used to. Most times, it was you who had to make the effort, but he seemed determined to make the most of the situation that he, at first, did not seem too enthusiastic to partake in. Chattering to the nine as you listened and added some comments in between, sometimes offering you some of his food, which you returned the favour by pushing yours onto his plate before he could protest with a grunt or a small smack of your hand, which you would pout at if he proved successful in doing.

He had taken to doing this thing, so small and so easily glossed over if your eye was not too attentive. Whenever your glass was empty, he would fill it. If you noticed you had finished your cocktail, he would ask the waiter for another. If you liked a certain appetiser, he would eat the others and leave those behind for you. When a serving of Tiramisu was placed in front of you at the end of the lunch, which you had not ordered, silently complaining about not eating sugar or sweets before the Christmas season after you ordered at the beginning, you knew it was his plot.

Instead of complaining, which perhaps would have been a predictable move on your part, you ate at it silently, contemplating this new quirk of his. It had never occurred to you, but he took to showing his care through silent acts of service. They did not require him to be loud about his actions,which you were sure he did not like, nor did they need much effort when they came so naturally to him, and it wasn’t the first you had been at the receiving end of this type of care from him. But this time….something just felt different, and you couldn’t place where what it was about it. And it was driving you crazy.

You watched the entire time as those instincts of his kicked in, almost, involuntarily, as if they didn’t take much effort from him, and maybe they didn’t. He almost seemed, carefree. Like he had shut his mind off whatever was buzzing in it, and had just let himself live in the moment. If you were the cause of that, you didn’t want to admit the pride you took in it.

He had always been reserved, even before the tragedy that had struck and changed him forever had befallen him. After that, it had been an unstoppable spiral he was stuck and couldn’t get off, which had resulted in the situation you two found yourselves in. Practically alienated by life and the circumstances of it, though in your opinion, Bruce’s circumstances almost seemed self-made and somewhat willing. You didn’t want to put blame or point fingers at anything, but….there was a pattern you couldn’t shake off about his recent behaviour.

And not just circumstances, his appearance spoke for himself. Whatever he was doing was putting him in serious danger. Your eye had strayed at one point. From his puffy eyes to his slight eyebags, not to mention the bandage on his wrist, you spied when he raised his hand to call a waitress over. You wanted to ask, but you knew he would not give you the answer you sought. Surely he would try to mask your concern over something serious for something that was probably just him hurting himself by ‘banging his hand on the desk’ or ‘bumping into something’.

You wanted to know so desperately. You wanted to ask so heedlessly. But it was too early, too carelessly, too eager.

But god, if you wanted to know. Not because of curiosity, well partially yes, but most all because you were worried for him. He looked like a walking corpse at times, hunting the space he walked by with his presence, how could you not worry for him?

Was It care or your empathy driving you in your quest? Could it be both? Or….

When you both stood at the end, he moved to help you out of your chair, which he did not have to do, but seemed to want. You offered to pay since you had insisted upon the occasion, but he had, in his gentle way, turned down the offer by pulling his wallet out. You were more than capable of paying for the lunch, and he knew that too, so it wasn’t a case of him doing something for you out of antagonism with an air of patronising his gesture. Rather, it was him paying you for the opportunity you had offered him.

He had grabbed your coat when the waiter handed it to you, draped it over your form and adjusted the folds and creases as he helped you in it. His hand was warm even from over the fabric.

You had turned to hug him, your arms moving to his back, your lips finding his cheek. You had not wanted to pull away, the contact of your soft lips on his rough, stubbled skin seemingly lasting forever, something he did not seem to mind. He actually seemed to lean into your touch.

“Thank you for the lunch” you murmured against his ear “I’ll get the next one”

Your hand had slightly gripped his jacket, the tips of your manicured nails pushing slightly at his back. He neither flinched nor pulled away, but you could feel him tense under them, a sign that he was probably sore in the muscles.

“Bye, Bruce” you said when you finally pulled away, reaching for his hand, the one you had noticed the bandage on the wrist, squeezing at it slightly

“Don’t be a stranger”

#bruce wayne x reader #the batman! bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #sunny writes𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce is bad at feelings #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #jim gordon

23 notes · View notes