If I Could Tell You Just One Thing.... Richard Reed

Hers is most definitely Shakespeare. And with the way she delivers it, virtually breathes it, if he were alive the feeling would be mutual. When she became an actor, Shakespeare was all she wanted to do. Her very first role was playing Ophelia at the Old Vic, which caused controversy, as it was unheard of for an unknown to bag a lead part on their first try. But she, of course, delivered and hasn’t stopped doing so since.

      She surprises me, though, by saying that the nerves are greater now than back then. ‘The more you know, the more unsure you get. At first you don’t know the pitfalls. But if I didn’t have nerves I’d be worried, as they engender energy, they’re petrol.’

      She says a theatre performance still leaves her feeling raw and exposed. ‘I am like that frog you’d see in biology class at school, split down the middle and pinned out, ready to be dissected. I just want someone to come in and give me a hug and be positive, but people knock on the door and come in and say things like, “We had the most terrible journey down from Gloucester.”’

      It is a small example of her bigger point, that life is better if you stay positive.

       ‘If I was passing on anything, I would say, for goodness sake, look for the pluses in life. Being negative completely erodes everything. If something bad happens, I always say cancel and continue and get back on track. There’s no good being negative, I don’t believe in negativity.’

      Then one beat later.

       ‘Except in regard to the referendum.’

      I’ll drink to that.

      ‘LOOK FOR THE PLUSES IN LIFE. BEING NEGATIVE COMPLETELY ERODES EVERYTHING. IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS, I ALWAYS SAY CANCEL AND CONTINUE AND GET BACK ON TRACK.’

       – Dame Judi Dench

SQUADDIE BANTER WITH CORPORAL ANDY REID

      ‘Are me family jewels still intact?’ That was Corporal Andy Reid’s first question when he regained consciousness after standing on a Taliban IED, which blew off both his legs and one arm, ten days before the end of his tour in Afghanistan as a British Army infantryman. Fortunately for Andy, his future wife Claire and now their son William, the answer was a resounding yes.

      He tells me this when I meet him in his hometown. He has kindly collected me from the station, rolling by in his pimped-up 4x4 Jeep, with tinted windows, spoilers, the works. This is no typical disability vehicle, and Andy’s is no typical story.

      Back in his kitchen, while he deftly one-handedly makes tea for us both, Andy recounts the time his parents first came to see him in hospital after he was evacuated from Afghanistan. Finding their son in bed, missing both legs and an arm, and with the remaining one in plaster, his dad, not knowing what else to do, patted Andy on the head. ‘I said, “I’m not a fucking dog, Dad,” and as soon as I said that we all started laughing and we knew then, it is going to be OK.’

      To Andy, the jokes are ‘squaddie banter’, the humour that soldiers use to lighten the mood and bring a bit of normality to situations that are often anything but. ‘Four weeks after the accident, I went on a Remembrance Parade, and it was really cold, so I said to the boys, “It’s bloody freezing, I can hardly feel my toes.” It made everyone crack up and removed any awkwardness.’

      The last thing Andy wants is people stepping on eggshells around him or feeling sorry for him. ‘I joined up and I accept responsibility for what’s happened to me, I knew the risks. That’s helped me move on a lot easier. You don’t move on very far by blaming someone else every time, it’s just going to make you depressed and angry and bitter.’ It’s a way of thinking that shows the resilience and determination that makes Andy such a role-model soldier.

      Instead of being bitter, each year Andy celebrates the day of the explosion. He calls it Happy Being Alive Day. ‘When I woke up in hospital I realised I wasn’t a victim, I was a survivor. Six of the guys from my company all died from one IED. I got to leave hospital after two weeks and go home, they didn’t.’ He says he needs to honour those fellow soldiers who weren’t lucky enough to come back by living his life to the fullest rather than sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

      One piece of advice he passes on to other people dealing with such a life-changing challenge is to remember that ‘the body will achieve what the mind believes’. On each Happy Being Alive Day he sets himself a goal to do something physically challenging to prove he can do it. With this attitude he has so far climbed Snowdon, run a 10k race, cycled most of Britain and skydived twice, all things people would assume were out of the picture but which Andy willed into reality.