As Redcar prepares for the Tinseltown treatment, Northern Echo reporter Mr David Roberts, who was an extra in the film, prepares for the show

THERE I was in a villa in the south of France when I got a message on my mobile to tell me I was needed to attend a film premiere.

That sort of thing happens to me quite a bit.

Your average film star would, of course, get his agent to call back to get the details before chartering a private jet back to London.

But I'm not your average film star.

In truth, I'm not really that much of a film star at all, but you may already have guessed that I was one of the 1,000 extras chosen to star in the Dunkirk evacuation scenes, filmed at Redcar.

I was in a villa (well, a small cottage) in France on my summer holidays when the office called. I did not however, call back immediately - it costs nearly £1 a minute on my tariff to make calls from abroad. I waited until I got back to Blighty.

And rather than the luxury of a Lear jet, my trip back across the channel was by budget airline.

Since spending three days on the set of Atonement last August, family, friends and colleagues have been constantly pestering me, "When's your film coming out?"

I imagine Keira Knightley's been having much the same problem.

I am slightly concerned that I might have exaggerated a little when describing to people my level of involvement on the film.

I think there are one or two people out there who are expecting to see my name in the credits at the beginning of the film.

But I was right in the thick of the action during one of the main sequences shot at Redcar cinema - and only a few feet away from the cameras.

I even got to speak to the leading actor, James McAvoy, when he asked me what we were all waiting for during one of the frequent long pauses between shots. I mumbled something about cameras and lenses, and he seemed to take my word for it and did not ask any more.

When trailers started being shown on television, I strained my eyes looking for myself on the screen, but to no avail.

My mother swears blind that she saw me in a two-second shot of the evacuation scene on one of the adverts.

But, bearing in mind she saw the clip on a 6in hospital television, while coming round from a general anaesthetic, I am inclined to be a little circumspect about what she actually witnessed.

Nevertheless, I am reasonably confident that I will be seen at some point during the film.

Event if it is only for a couple of seconds, not many people can boast to being in a critically-acclaimed blockbuster.

If nothing else, I am getting the chance to dust down my tuxedo since the last time it was worn - the Mayor of Darlington's charity ball, if I remember rightly - and attend a film premiere.

While Redcar is normally a world away from Leicester Square, tonight it will boast more than a slither of Hollywood glitz and glamour.

As for the after-show party, who needs the Ivy and China Whites, when there's fish and chips on the seafront followed by a couple of pints at The Deck?

Then it is just a matter of waiting for the Oscar nominations to roll in at the villa in France, or maybe at my terraced house in Darlington.