Size Matters Not: The Extraordinary Life and Career of Warwick Davis by Warwick Davis

rebound.
     
    Courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd.
     
     
    “What are you trying to do? Drown me?” To add insult to injury, the storm scenes we filmed in Pinewood’s reservoir were never used.
     
    Courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd.
     
     
    Paddling toward trouble.
     
     
    That smile wouldn’t be on my face for much longer . . .
     
    Courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd.
     
     
    Val and I did lots of public signings for Willow . Val, the joker, liked to write me amusing messages before he passed the photos over for me to sign.
     
    Courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd.
     
     
    Is that it?” I asked, and turned to look at Daniel. The “that” was pronounced with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.
     
    “Yup,” Daniel said with some uncertainty.
     
    As far as I was concerned Cornwall was supposed to be an exciting land of smugglers’ coves, warm cozy pubs, wild seas, rugged coasts, and the pasty. What I was looking at here was a cottage that would be described in an estate agent’s blurb as “charming” and “requiring extensive renovation and modernization.”
     
    In a Withnail and I moment, Daniel had convinced me to let him “treat” me to a week’s holiday with his family in remotest Cornwall. “It’s payback for you having taken me to the USA,” he said. Hmmm . . . Stepping over the threshold was like stepping back into Edwardian times. I could hear the damp cottage crumbling.
     
    “Wow! Look at the TV!”
     
    It actually had woodworm. I swear it was powered by a gas and valve system. I switched it on and it shook and hummed into life. I stared at the screen. And stared. The screen lightened fractionally.
     
    “Maybe it’ll have warmed up in half an hour or so,” Daniel said hopefully.
     
    “I suppose you don’t come on holiday to watch TV,” I said gloomily, not believing that to be true at all.
     
    Outside it was raining cats and dogs but I had to admit, after a quick walk on a nearby wild beach, the scenery was really quite spectacular.
     
    After two days of rain, as we still waited for the TV to warm up, I decided to call home. This was before the days of cell phones and meant I had to go in search of a public call box. “I’ll be back in a tick,” I said, and went on the hunt for a telephone. Luckily, I soon spotted the familiar red box in the local village.
     
    Using a phone box was just one of many situations in which I had to employ a certain unusual ingenuity to compensate for my lack in height. After heaving open the heavy metal door, I then had to climb up the inside of the box, with one foot on either side, using the windowpanes as steps until I was halfway up. Then, pretty much doing the splits, I was able to make a precarious and short (it was quite tiring) phone call. a An old lady strolled past and did a double take.
     
    “Mum?” I said, slightly breathlessly. “It’s me.”
     
    “Oh, Warwick, thank goodness you’ve called!”
     
    “What is it?” I asked, sensing the urgent tone in Mum’s voice.
     
    “It’s George, he wants you to come and meet him and Ron Howard at Elstree Studios to talk about a new film.”
     
    That was all I wanted to hear. “I’ll be right there!” I hung up, carefully made my way back down the interior of the phone box, and ran back to Daniel. Once I’d explained, he insisted on accompanying me. Fortunately for us, his wonderful parents clearly understood that meeting George Lucas was about one million times more important to us than staying in Cornwall with them.
     
    Ten minutes later we were packed and hopping up and down with excitement on the station platform. After a couple of slow starts, we got an express that whisked us back to London. Mum met us at the station and took both Daniel and me to meet George and Ron at Elstree.
     

     
    We were in a big office right at the far end of the building. As usual, whenever he met anyone famous, Daniel turned into a babbling wreck and just managed to introduce himself as my “friend.”
     
    “Warwick,”