I’m sorry Martin Clunes
When an interview takes a menopausal turn
If you walk into a room with a plaster cast on your arm people are alerted to the fact there is probably some kind of breakage being healed beneath its tight grip. If you are clutching a damp tissue to your nose in between incessant sniffs and sneezes, they can assume you have a cold (or possibly a poorly-disguised coke habit). If you start rummaging around your bag for paracetamol or ibuprofen they can presume you are dealing with a headache or some other kind of niggling pain.
However if you are in the throes of menopausal mayhem the outward signs are somewhat harder to detect.
Now, I interview a lot of famous (ish) people for my job as a writer for various TV mags and websites. Famous-ish if you live in the UK and own a TV. We’re talking Claudia Winkleman not Jennifer Aniston, Danny Dyer not Daniel Day-Lewis, Monty Don not Madonna.
Kirstie Allsopp, Brenda Blethyn, Denise Van Outen and Wallace and Gromit creator Nick Park have all been on the other end of my dictaphone in the past few months. And just before Christmas it was the turn of Martin Clunes. Lucky Martin.
It was the first time I have met Mr Clunes but he’s one of those people I feel I ‘know’ as he’s been a constant on our screens for decades in cheery shows such as No Place Like Home, Men Behaving Badly, Doc Martin and more recently Manhunt (not so cheery but very good, you can watch it on ITVX). When I think of him, (and from what I’ve gleaned through his many appearances on various chat show sofas), I think; smiley, self-deprecating, amiable. Likes dogs. Likes all animals. Not intimidating. Fun. Would be happy to be stuck in a queue next to him. He’d probably be quite a laugh. Not that we’re likely to be putting the queue/laugh theory to the test anytime soon.
Anyway, I was looking forward to meeting him and interviewing for his new ITV drama Out There in which he plays a Welsh farmer who gets sucked into all kinds of shady and progressively terrifying stuff to do with county lines drug dealing. *
I was also looking forward to it because the interview was going to take place in London’s Soho Hotel which has plush sofas, delicious-smelling hand soaps and you get to feel just a teeny bit fancy when you swan in via the reception momentarily imagining you are a wealthy guest staying there and not someone who has just got off a packed tube at Tottenham Court Road and is carrying a semi-eaten squashed cheese sandwich in their bag because they missed breakfast.
So the plan was this. First I, and a group of three other journalists, would be doing an interview with Martin and an array of his co-stars along. Afterwards I would be interviewing Martin by myself for an exclusive 1:1 chat. Nice.
Menopausal mayhem symptom one. HOT.
The first thing that happened when I walked into the room where the first interview was taking place was that I suddenly felt very, very hot. Glowing pink-cheeks hot. Damp upper-lip hot. Sweaty forehead hot. The 10 foot high ornate mirror I was positioned in front of did indeed confirm I resembled a shiny red snooker ball. But not to worry lovely reader. I had come prepared. I know that peri and menopausal mayhem can include an inner thermostat with broken controls. I have cunningly learnt to dress in layers over the past few years and having arrived in good time I was able to nip to the toilets, remove the vest top that I put on beneath my dress to block out the icy December chill and also make excellent use of the afore-mentioned delicious smelling hand soap. All good.
I returned to the table where the interview was taking place. Martin arrived. His young co-star Louis Ashbourne Serkis, (who disarmingly looked like an identical but young version of his famous Lord Of The Rings dad Andy Serkis), arrived. Myself and my three fellow journalists got cracking with the interview taking it in turns to ask them about Out There and other related and unrelated things. We discovered Martin owns a drone. That he had a favourite horse from his time filming on the farm in Wales where the drama is set and that his daughter in real life is training to be an equine vet. We discover Martin is lovely. We discover Louis is lovely. Our questions flow. We’re on a roll
Menopausal mayhem symptom two. OVERWHELM.
With interview one complete we have a short break in which we can help ourselves to teas and coffees from nice shiny pots. Perfect. A ‘comfort break’ as they seem to be called by people in charge these days. Handy. It means I can gather my thoughts, go over my list of questions and do a rapid edit according to what has already been asked / insert new questions. Par for the course. I’m used to this. However, suddenly I’m feeling overwhelmed. My head is swirling and whirling and my mind is not quite behaving in a way I would like it to. By the time I am instructed to go into an adjacent room, plush sofas in place, dramatic wallpaper adorning the space, (my hands smelling divine), I am having to give myself a firm talking to. ‘You are fine. Come on. You’ve done this a hundred times before. And it’s Martin Clunes. Lovely smiley Martin Clunes who used to be silly, useless Gary in Men Behaving Badly. Martin Clunes who loves dogs and lives on a farm in Dorset. It’s not Michael Portillo who you have also interviewed in this hotel and who you were warned by the journalist before you was in ‘a grumpy mood.’
The press officer and I have by this point decided I will also interview Martin’s young costar Louis at the same time because the magazines I work for want exclusive quotes from both of them. All good. Louis and Martin who are playing father and son in the drama come into the room and pull up a pew on the sofa. We say hello again having previously met half an hour before for interview one.
I get into my stride. The questions are flowing. We have nine or so minutes in which everything is going well and then it happens.
Menopausal mayhem symptom three. BRAIN FOG.
I am listening to their answers, looking for my next question. And then nothing. My mind goes completely blank. A white blind has been pulled down over the part of my brain that controls words and thoughts. Bye bye thoughts. Farewell questions. Adios words. I pause. I look at my biro-annotated sheet of questions, the tentacles of my brain trying to clutch onto something but… no. The white screen is still down and it’s not budging. What do I do?
I look at Martin and Louis and say: ‘I’m sorry. I’m feeling very menopausal today.’
Martin smiles. His charming and talented young co-star Louis, (who I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of on our screens) also smiles. We all smile. No one says anything.
I have just told Martin Clunes I am feeling very menopausal.
I take a breath. A few seconds pass. My eyes focus on some words further down my sheet and then suddenly I’m off again. The tentacles reach for a fully formed question and hooray, they find something.
The rest of the interview continues. The press officer comes into the room after 15 minutes to signify my allocated time is up. I glance at the coffee table near the sofa praying that I actually managed to turn on my dictaphone. (Menopausal mayhem symptom four: complete memory loss over a task or action you have completely mere minutes before). Yes I did, the little red light is activated. Thank fuck for that. I switch it off and shove it in my bag to be reunited with the half eaten cheese sandwich.
I get to my feet and am surprised when I hear myself saying the following sentence. ‘Thank you so much. I’m really feeling so discombobulated today.’ It is a nod to the menopausal mayhem although why I am drawing attention to it again and why I am using the word discombobulated which I don’t think I’ve ever said out loud before in my life is anyone’s guess.
Martin and Louis pose for a quick selfie. Martin strikes a dramatic pose although I’m not quite sure what is going on here in this picture to be honest. And judging by his bemused face, nor does Louis.
And then that is it. Job done. Interview complete. Menopausal mayhem temporarily at bay. I’m free to be released back into the fancy hotel reception and the streets of Soho.
So what have we learnt from this lovely reader?
Well, that being in the throes of menopausal mayhem when you’re trying to work (or do anything for that matter), is tough.
That there are a whole myriad of sneaky and not so sneaky symptoms that can rear and flare at any given time of the day.
That women have by and large got very, very good at ploughing on through them or at masking them but sometimes it’s bloody hard, (and hot), work.
That sometimes we don’t want to pretend everything is ok and decide an explanation for what is going on beneath the surface might be a good idea. In this case, the person who got an explanation was Martin Clunes. I didn’t want him to think I was being absent-minded or lazy and hadn’t prepared my questions properly because the opposite was true. So I’m sorry Martin Clunes but not sorry because, in my opinion, the more people that realise what we could be dealing with the better.
You may be in the same menopausal boat as me, lovely reader. You may not be. But we all have sisters, mums, aunties, daughters or friends and you can pretty much guarantee that any woman over the age of 40ish, (sometimes younger), is dealing with a lovely array of perimenopausal or menopausal symptoms. Maybe just one or two. Maybe a whole damn collection.
Hot flushes, brain fog and overwhelm which collided with my interview are just the tip of the iceberg for many.
Below is a list of possible symptoms. It’s a very long list.
‘But what about HRT?’ Isn’t that supposed to help a bit?’ you may ask. For many of us, particularly breast cancer patients, it’s not an option.
On the lighter side, we have also learnt that Soho Hotel has very nice hand soaps, that Michael Portillo can be ‘grumpy’ (although he was charming with me and not in the slightest bit grumpy). And that Martin and Louis are in a new six-part ITV drama called Out There which starts today (Sunday 19 January) which from the preview episodes I’ve watched, is very good. So if you want to hear them doing a Welsh accent and follow a story that shows just how destructive county lines drug dealing is - (a rural version of Top Boy would be my incredibly brief summing up) - then you can tune in or see the whole box set on ITVX.
Oh and next time you are speaking to a woman who seems maybe not quite themselves, bear in mind they could be contending with any one of these delightful 49 - yes 49 - symptoms at any given time. **
Be gracious, be understanding. Give them a warm smile if you think they could do with one. Be like Martin Clunes.
**A LIST OF THE MANY POSSIBLE SYMPTOMS OF MENOPAUSE / PERIMENOPAUSE A WOMAN CAN EXPERIENCE. Quite the feast….
Mental health symptoms
Crying spells
Feeling emotionally numb
Feeling more emotional
Increased stress
Low mood or depression
Low self-esteem or loss of confidence
Cognitive symptoms
Low mental energy or lack of motivation
Memory problems
Physical symptoms and pain
Breast tenderness or swelling
Dry, brittle or weak nails
Headaches or migraines
Heart palpitations
Hot flushes
Changes to your period
Irregular, longer or shorter periods
Missed periods
Heavier or lighter flow
Skin symptoms
Dry or itchy skin
Oral health symptoms
Changes to sense of taste and smell
Sensitive teeth
Digestive and gut health symptoms
Sleep and nighttime symptoms
Night sweats
Sexual and urinary health symptoms
Pain or discomfort during sex
Reduced sex drive
Urinary / bladder infections
Vaginal dryness, pain or itching
Vaginal infections
Body shape changes
Changes to body shape / body composition (eg, muscle to fat ratio)
Weight gain
This really made me smile and at least you didn’t subject Martin to your squashed cheese Sandwhich Tess 😊
'Discombobulated' is one of my fave words, and yes, the more of us who talk about the realities of Peri meno/Menopause, the better!