Read Online Size Matters Not: The Extraordinary Life and Career of Warwick Davis by Warwick Davis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Warwick Davis
Ads: Link
sounded to me like gravel being thrown at the window. Except the sound wasn’t quite right. It sounded more like popping. I ran to the window and looked out. Smoke was everywhere.
“The house is on fire!”
At that moment Mum and Dad burst into the room.
“Stay calm,” Dad said. “It’s in the garage, not in the house, but we have to get out now.”
We quickly played the game of “If your house was burning down what would you grab?” I tried to gather all the important stuff that shouldn’t go up in smoke. But by the time I got outside I realized with no little horror that I’d forgotten Jabba the Gerbil.
On his way out, Dad ran his palm over the living room wall that adjoined the garage. “Ow!” He whipped his hand away, shaking it. If the door from the utility room to the garage had been open we would have lost the house.
All thoughts of the gerbil were quickly put to one side as I realized that my most prized possession was in that garage. “My motorbike!”
While my sister was into horses, I was into horsepower and was now the very proud owner of a Yamaha PeeWee 50 motorbike, which – as the name implies – was tiny. I used to fly around the field that adjoined our house impersonating Evel Knievel and would spend hours collecting and arranging cardboard boxes to crash through.
I used to love Kick Start , the TV motorbike talent show. Contestants riding trials bikes would attempt to complete an obstacle course against the clock. My favorite part was when they rode over a VW Beetle and I tried to replicate that and as many of the other stunts they did as possible, such as riding in and out of ditches, bunny hops, and pulling wheelies.
The fire brigade rolled up just in time to save the house and extinguished the fire without too much difficulty. It turned out that Dad had left the car battery charger on and it was this that had caught fire.
One of the firemen took us around to inspect the damage. He explained how lucky we were that the main house hadn’t caught fire. There was a slight buckle in the ceiling. The fireman pointed to it and said, “That steel girder must have been heated to over three thousand degrees, it’s expanded into the adjoining wall and is now poking into your utility room.”
By then I was looking down at my bike in horror. All the plastic parts had melted into a smoking puddle on the garage floor, leaving a tiny metal skeleton behind.
Dad shared my look of horror but for different reasons. The fire had reached the paint cupboard, which was full of pots that Dad had collected over a lifetime of DIY; every color imaginable had lined those shelves. But they had exploded in the heat and had turned his car (a vintage Sunbeam) into Joseph’s Technicolor Dream Car.
Miraculously, both vehicles worked fine when we turned their respective ignitions a few days later. They really knew how to build things to last in those days. Luckily, it was possible to order replacement parts for my motorbike and, although Dad looked like a wild rainbow hippie for a few weeks, he eventually had the car resprayed.
One day, while I was re-creating Kick Start on my newly stuck-together bike, Mum, obviously terribly excited about something, called me inside.
“Lucasfilm want you to play Wicket again!”
My face lit up. “No way!”
I know some Star Wars fans don’t like them, but the public response to the Ewoks was overwhelmingly positive, so George Lucas had decided to produce a TV special with me reprising the role of Wicket. It would mean eight weeks in San Francisco filming near the Skywalker Ranch.
This was my first lead role but I took it in my stride. I knew the character inside out by then and I was bursting with enthusiasm. In the film Wicket had learned English and was able to communicate with the human stars, a pair of space kids. I was delighted to see that Ewok-suit technology had improved somewhat
“The house is on fire!”
At that moment Mum and Dad burst into the room.
“Stay calm,” Dad said. “It’s in the garage, not in the house, but we have to get out now.”
We quickly played the game of “If your house was burning down what would you grab?” I tried to gather all the important stuff that shouldn’t go up in smoke. But by the time I got outside I realized with no little horror that I’d forgotten Jabba the Gerbil.
On his way out, Dad ran his palm over the living room wall that adjoined the garage. “Ow!” He whipped his hand away, shaking it. If the door from the utility room to the garage had been open we would have lost the house.
All thoughts of the gerbil were quickly put to one side as I realized that my most prized possession was in that garage. “My motorbike!”
While my sister was into horses, I was into horsepower and was now the very proud owner of a Yamaha PeeWee 50 motorbike, which – as the name implies – was tiny. I used to fly around the field that adjoined our house impersonating Evel Knievel and would spend hours collecting and arranging cardboard boxes to crash through.
I used to love Kick Start , the TV motorbike talent show. Contestants riding trials bikes would attempt to complete an obstacle course against the clock. My favorite part was when they rode over a VW Beetle and I tried to replicate that and as many of the other stunts they did as possible, such as riding in and out of ditches, bunny hops, and pulling wheelies.
The fire brigade rolled up just in time to save the house and extinguished the fire without too much difficulty. It turned out that Dad had left the car battery charger on and it was this that had caught fire.
One of the firemen took us around to inspect the damage. He explained how lucky we were that the main house hadn’t caught fire. There was a slight buckle in the ceiling. The fireman pointed to it and said, “That steel girder must have been heated to over three thousand degrees, it’s expanded into the adjoining wall and is now poking into your utility room.”
By then I was looking down at my bike in horror. All the plastic parts had melted into a smoking puddle on the garage floor, leaving a tiny metal skeleton behind.
Dad shared my look of horror but for different reasons. The fire had reached the paint cupboard, which was full of pots that Dad had collected over a lifetime of DIY; every color imaginable had lined those shelves. But they had exploded in the heat and had turned his car (a vintage Sunbeam) into Joseph’s Technicolor Dream Car.
Miraculously, both vehicles worked fine when we turned their respective ignitions a few days later. They really knew how to build things to last in those days. Luckily, it was possible to order replacement parts for my motorbike and, although Dad looked like a wild rainbow hippie for a few weeks, he eventually had the car resprayed.
One day, while I was re-creating Kick Start on my newly stuck-together bike, Mum, obviously terribly excited about something, called me inside.
“Lucasfilm want you to play Wicket again!”
My face lit up. “No way!”
I know some Star Wars fans don’t like them, but the public response to the Ewoks was overwhelmingly positive, so George Lucas had decided to produce a TV special with me reprising the role of Wicket. It would mean eight weeks in San Francisco filming near the Skywalker Ranch.
This was my first lead role but I took it in my stride. I knew the character inside out by then and I was bursting with enthusiasm. In the film Wicket had learned English and was able to communicate with the human stars, a pair of space kids. I was delighted to see that Ewok-suit technology had improved somewhat
Similar Books
