Time 10:34
Location: Aldywch
I rush like hell, fighting off all others to reach my locker before the cattle arrive. I withdraw my belongings and run to higher ground.
Time 10:54
Location: Embankment
Shit shit fuck!!! Missed the tube!
Time 11:34
Location: Tooting Bec
Bus due in 3mins
Time 12:03
Location: La Sofa
I lift the lid and log on.... Dean is... realising his life is being spent through the dictatorship of Facebook!!!
Friday, 9 November 2007
Thursday, 1 November 2007
An ode to Dodie...
I am writting this sitting at the dining table. A fresh bouquet of autumnal, rust coloured flowers, with cream rose buds peering around each spray, are proudly sitting in a ceramic jug in the centre of the table. Beside the jug of flowers is a silver candlestick with an elegant cream taper... All of set off with our new Laura Ashley Wallpaper. Wilton in Cranberry.
Im telling you this as today I feel a strange sense of self, a feeling of security. Im sat writting sipping a cup of tea from a china mug, Director Boy is busy sorting out paperwork for his forth coming production at the Arcola, and the cleaner is busy making our, Im appalled to say, somewhat dilapidated kitchen, look like it has just been installed.
She is blonde. Young. And possibly Polish. She has an accent which sounds distinctly Polish or Czech. Today is her first day and she has spent the past three hours hidden in the kitchen. We, I use we in the royal sense, thought that she would perform magic all over the house, that was until we realised just how many lifeforms were cohabiting on our work surfaces. Kim and Aggie would have a field day.
But the reason I feel secure is because today, life has slowed to a pace of actual reality. Today I realised how my life is and in what direction it is travelling. Whether or not the direction is the right direction, remains to be seen, still it is a direction.
Although I have to admit I feel distinctly like Monica in Friends when she gets a cleaner. My role as 'Mum' seems to be challenged. I keep going into the kitchen for a jug to water the plants, again. Checking Guy's room for something important, just to hear what noises are coming from inside the room that is being cleaned.
If she turns up wearing my jeans...
Im telling you this as today I feel a strange sense of self, a feeling of security. Im sat writting sipping a cup of tea from a china mug, Director Boy is busy sorting out paperwork for his forth coming production at the Arcola, and the cleaner is busy making our, Im appalled to say, somewhat dilapidated kitchen, look like it has just been installed.
She is blonde. Young. And possibly Polish. She has an accent which sounds distinctly Polish or Czech. Today is her first day and she has spent the past three hours hidden in the kitchen. We, I use we in the royal sense, thought that she would perform magic all over the house, that was until we realised just how many lifeforms were cohabiting on our work surfaces. Kim and Aggie would have a field day.
But the reason I feel secure is because today, life has slowed to a pace of actual reality. Today I realised how my life is and in what direction it is travelling. Whether or not the direction is the right direction, remains to be seen, still it is a direction.
Although I have to admit I feel distinctly like Monica in Friends when she gets a cleaner. My role as 'Mum' seems to be challenged. I keep going into the kitchen for a jug to water the plants, again. Checking Guy's room for something important, just to hear what noises are coming from inside the room that is being cleaned.
If she turns up wearing my jeans...
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Behind closed doors... each to their own
Three men sitting in a bar. Yorkshire man, a cornish man and a hungarian.
Cornish: Would you ever sleep with a man?
Hungarian: Well, technically I share a room with another man... but not I'd never actually sleep with him. My girlfriend wouldn.t approve.
Cornish: I wouldn't mind sharing a room with a nice young HUNG-arian... lol
Yorkshire man: You know what they say, 'close your eyes and enjoy'
Hungarian: In my country we have a saying 'In the dark, everyone looks like cows'
Cornish: Would you ever sleep with a man?
Hungarian: Well, technically I share a room with another man... but not I'd never actually sleep with him. My girlfriend wouldn.t approve.
Cornish: I wouldn't mind sharing a room with a nice young HUNG-arian... lol
Yorkshire man: You know what they say, 'close your eyes and enjoy'
Hungarian: In my country we have a saying 'In the dark, everyone looks like cows'
Wednesday, 26 September 2007
I feel them hitting me, over and over, always a new place to strike where I am unguarded. I am completely surrounded. There is nothing to do but put up my collar and pull the umbrella closer to my head.
I wrap my coat with intent and face the blugeoning wind and bombs of water, and start to make my way through the labyrinth of streets that surround London. But it seems that all the other habitants who have adopted this city as their home have also decided to cut out the crowds, and have, in turn brought them here too. There is nowhere to hide or anywhere to escape. Doorways are filled, sheltering bankers and vagabonds alike. For once, everyone is equal. The weather takes all.
As I stride forwards down the longer crowded road, there is an almost choreographed feel to the London bustle. People all dancing the same routine around the puddles, bobbing thier umbrella's over the beggars head as they pass systematically.
I wrap my coat with intent and face the blugeoning wind and bombs of water, and start to make my way through the labyrinth of streets that surround London. But it seems that all the other habitants who have adopted this city as their home have also decided to cut out the crowds, and have, in turn brought them here too. There is nowhere to hide or anywhere to escape. Doorways are filled, sheltering bankers and vagabonds alike. For once, everyone is equal. The weather takes all.
As I stride forwards down the longer crowded road, there is an almost choreographed feel to the London bustle. People all dancing the same routine around the puddles, bobbing thier umbrella's over the beggars head as they pass systematically.
It's 5pm.
hometime.
Monday, 10 September 2007
The Tin-Man, who always has a heart
The table is approached by the waiter and the remains, or lack of, from our course is removed. I look over to my dining companion and find myself falling into the eyes I've been lost in before. So many times, yet each time a more over whelming feeling. Each more intense than the previous and just as exciting and new.
The candle light shining onto his skin, me noticing once more the curve of his brow, the depth of his smile. The rush of that first kiss outside my old theatre. The memory of the way he smelled as we waited, long after closing for our taxis. The feeling of longing to prolong our separation when they had arrived. The anticipation in his voice as he called me back and the warmth of his breath, out there in the cold, as we kissed for the first time.
The way we wake in each others arms. The way he smiles in his sleep, like a young innocent boy without a care in the world. The way he looks at me secretly when in public, and scrunches up his nose to signal that all is ok. The way I'm willing to devote my life in every way possible. To be by his side, through hardships and triumph. To love, hold, listen and learn from. To be ever faithful and share my world with, like no person before and nobody after. There will never be an after.
My life is this man. This man is my life.
The candle light shining onto his skin, me noticing once more the curve of his brow, the depth of his smile. The rush of that first kiss outside my old theatre. The memory of the way he smelled as we waited, long after closing for our taxis. The feeling of longing to prolong our separation when they had arrived. The anticipation in his voice as he called me back and the warmth of his breath, out there in the cold, as we kissed for the first time.
The way we wake in each others arms. The way he smiles in his sleep, like a young innocent boy without a care in the world. The way he looks at me secretly when in public, and scrunches up his nose to signal that all is ok. The way I'm willing to devote my life in every way possible. To be by his side, through hardships and triumph. To love, hold, listen and learn from. To be ever faithful and share my world with, like no person before and nobody after. There will never be an after.
My life is this man. This man is my life.
Friday, 7 September 2007
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
Actors or Chocolate...
Midday:
I hear noise!! Don't you understand that I am sleeping? Noise! NOISE!!
"Dean are you awake?"
"What?"
"It's Corinne on the phone... (to the phone) 'he's still in bed, rather decadent'"
I hold out my arm without looking at him and grumble into the phone.
"What's wrong"
"I've just seen *actor* and he's beautiful, I can't hold out much longer. I'm going to cave in. All my defense's are failing rapidly!"
"Put down everything you are holding except your phone"
"Right. Done"
"Do not touch the strawberries"
"They're in the fridge. Does a strawberry yogurt count?"
"Yes. Stay away. Get chocolate"
"I have a chocolate croissant?"
"That'll do"
Chocolate always counteracts the desire for a man. ALWAYS!
I decide that talking, or at least grunting down the phone will pre-occupy the mind of the besotted, femme fatale...
"... and then she said I could blah, blah, blah, stay with her. Have I spoken enough about my own life to stop you thinking about the one you can't have?"
"Yes primarily. Although I did have a little epiphany half way through"
"Oh dear. More chocolate is needed. I demand you leave the digs, and get yourself a good bar of Green and Blacks, it's a good sexual depressant"
We finish our conversation and say our goodbyes.
Director boy looks at me, winks and gives that cheeky smile...
"So that's why the sex has dropped off"
I glare at him.
"Don't be giving me evils"
"I'm not. It's animocity"
We both giggle.
But chocolate is now banned from our house hold*
*This is why I buy it from Tesco on the Strand on the way into work. Oops.
I hear noise!! Don't you understand that I am sleeping? Noise! NOISE!!
"Dean are you awake?"
"What?"
"It's Corinne on the phone... (to the phone) 'he's still in bed, rather decadent'"
I hold out my arm without looking at him and grumble into the phone.
"What's wrong"
"I've just seen *actor* and he's beautiful, I can't hold out much longer. I'm going to cave in. All my defense's are failing rapidly!"
"Put down everything you are holding except your phone"
"Right. Done"
"Do not touch the strawberries"
"They're in the fridge. Does a strawberry yogurt count?"
"Yes. Stay away. Get chocolate"
"I have a chocolate croissant?"
"That'll do"
Chocolate always counteracts the desire for a man. ALWAYS!
I decide that talking, or at least grunting down the phone will pre-occupy the mind of the besotted, femme fatale...
"... and then she said I could blah, blah, blah, stay with her. Have I spoken enough about my own life to stop you thinking about the one you can't have?"
"Yes primarily. Although I did have a little epiphany half way through"
"Oh dear. More chocolate is needed. I demand you leave the digs, and get yourself a good bar of Green and Blacks, it's a good sexual depressant"
We finish our conversation and say our goodbyes.
Director boy looks at me, winks and gives that cheeky smile...
"So that's why the sex has dropped off"
I glare at him.
"Don't be giving me evils"
"I'm not. It's animocity"
We both giggle.
But chocolate is now banned from our house hold*
*This is why I buy it from Tesco on the Strand on the way into work. Oops.
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Always an interesting journey...
I stumble onto the bus, wet and slightly annoyed at having to go into work early because of the previous nights events. The shelter of the bus seems like a small safe haven from the incessant drops of rain, dripping down my face and into my eyes. Blurring the world, allowing me to retreat to a place in my own thoughts.
As I get onto the bus the heat hits me and I feel faint. The heavy enclosed heat from the day's passengers makes it difficult to breathe, and as each new traveller seeks a place, we all fight for the small piece of new air. I settle at the back with my copy of 'Harry Potter' and a put up my feet.
The world seems calm as I focus on the troubles of the fictitious world on the page in front of me.
A woman in her mid-forties dressed in a pair of white slim jeans, heals, and a trench coat makes her way to the back of the bus. I stay immersed in my book as the problems get more and more entwined and danger is eminent. She looks at me, then at my feet in such disdain, I move them naturally and out of politeness. She brushes the seat with her manicured hand, tuts, then sits with a copy of the rental pages. Once more I'm back into my book. My feet ache and there is a spare seat opposite, so once more my foot graces the seat. As more people crowd onto the bus the woman is forced to move over, once again the same routine of tutting and glaring. I move my feet before she says anything, but that doesn't stop her. She smiles in a way I know is going to cause confrontation and moans about the law of 'feet on seat'. I shoot her a look then go straight to my book.
A few minutes later, her trench coat slips from her side to reveal the immaculate trousers that are stained in several areas, with grass and what looks like red wine. A.K.A. last nights outfit. I smile to myself and feel a great sense of satisfaction. Karma.
As I get off the bus, and uncomfortable catches of one anothers eyes have passed I decide to apologise. I ring the bell and pick up my bag. We catch one anothers eye once more and I realise this is it...
"I'm sorry about the foot thing" Says I. She looks up and smiles that same little grin she'd used earlier.
"I suppose you don't need any more stains on those trousers". And with that I walk off the bus.
As I get onto the bus the heat hits me and I feel faint. The heavy enclosed heat from the day's passengers makes it difficult to breathe, and as each new traveller seeks a place, we all fight for the small piece of new air. I settle at the back with my copy of 'Harry Potter' and a put up my feet.
The world seems calm as I focus on the troubles of the fictitious world on the page in front of me.
A woman in her mid-forties dressed in a pair of white slim jeans, heals, and a trench coat makes her way to the back of the bus. I stay immersed in my book as the problems get more and more entwined and danger is eminent. She looks at me, then at my feet in such disdain, I move them naturally and out of politeness. She brushes the seat with her manicured hand, tuts, then sits with a copy of the rental pages. Once more I'm back into my book. My feet ache and there is a spare seat opposite, so once more my foot graces the seat. As more people crowd onto the bus the woman is forced to move over, once again the same routine of tutting and glaring. I move my feet before she says anything, but that doesn't stop her. She smiles in a way I know is going to cause confrontation and moans about the law of 'feet on seat'. I shoot her a look then go straight to my book.
A few minutes later, her trench coat slips from her side to reveal the immaculate trousers that are stained in several areas, with grass and what looks like red wine. A.K.A. last nights outfit. I smile to myself and feel a great sense of satisfaction. Karma.
As I get off the bus, and uncomfortable catches of one anothers eyes have passed I decide to apologise. I ring the bell and pick up my bag. We catch one anothers eye once more and I realise this is it...
"I'm sorry about the foot thing" Says I. She looks up and smiles that same little grin she'd used earlier.
"I suppose you don't need any more stains on those trousers". And with that I walk off the bus.
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
When all the world is a hopeless jumble... WALK!!
I shut my locker door and walk. I walk so quickly without looking back or acknowledging any persons in sight. I run down the stairs, sign out and leave. Breathe.
Director Boy looks at me with a smile, I feel bad as I return a scowl and announce that "we are walking". Each night when I leave work and he is waiting for me, we go to the nearest bus stop, unless something has happened in which case I vent my frustration and anger out on my feet and we walk, across London to Selfridges passing my 'feel good' shops.
This was one of those nights.
I explain to Director Boy that evenings events, and he declares we walk.
We talk and discuss the options. In the end we decide that walking was the best option. Is always the best option, as new shoes and cashmere always diffuse the situation.
When we finally get on the bus we both produce copies of 'Harry Potter' and agree that Green and Black's chocolate and Eggs Benedict are the order of the day.
Director Boy looks at me with a smile, I feel bad as I return a scowl and announce that "we are walking". Each night when I leave work and he is waiting for me, we go to the nearest bus stop, unless something has happened in which case I vent my frustration and anger out on my feet and we walk, across London to Selfridges passing my 'feel good' shops.
This was one of those nights.
I explain to Director Boy that evenings events, and he declares we walk.
We talk and discuss the options. In the end we decide that walking was the best option. Is always the best option, as new shoes and cashmere always diffuse the situation.
When we finally get on the bus we both produce copies of 'Harry Potter' and agree that Green and Black's chocolate and Eggs Benedict are the order of the day.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Midnight Matinees...
Midnight Matinees will mostly include:
1, Your old employers turning up and recognising you.
2, Seeing the rest of the West End all wearing the same outfit.
3, Laura Michelle Kelly.
4, H from steps.
5, A Fire Evacuation at 2am.
6, Free Pizza.
7, Conversation with 'Alice'. A.K.A. Annalene Beechey.
8, Getting home at 3:30am in a Taxi and looking forward to getting into bed.
1, Your old employers turning up and recognising you.
2, Seeing the rest of the West End all wearing the same outfit.
3, Laura Michelle Kelly.
4, H from steps.
5, A Fire Evacuation at 2am.
6, Free Pizza.
7, Conversation with 'Alice'. A.K.A. Annalene Beechey.
8, Getting home at 3:30am in a Taxi and looking forward to getting into bed.
New Shoes and Substance Abuse
L: "... so this guy asked if I wanted a lime and coke. I was smashed out of my head and wanted something softer. Then he gave me his credit card and said 'meet me in the toilets in 10 mins'. Then I realised he said a LINE of coke"
Me: "Shit really"
A: "Have you ever tried it before?"
L: "Once. But never again. Did you ever sniff Prit Stick at school? lol Sometimes I couldn't get through the day without a whiff of a permanent marker"
Me: "That's like serious substance abuse"
D: "I once got a headache from smelling new shoes"
Me: "Shit really"
A: "Have you ever tried it before?"
L: "Once. But never again. Did you ever sniff Prit Stick at school? lol Sometimes I couldn't get through the day without a whiff of a permanent marker"
Me: "That's like serious substance abuse"
D: "I once got a headache from smelling new shoes"
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
"I hope you get your dreams. Girl go ahead, let your hair down"
When you have someone you love dearly and they live some 200 miles away, what do you do??
I am of course, talking about the dearest friend I could ever hope to encounter, but sadly me and said friend are somewhat distanced, and its taking its toll.
When in Leeds and I had free time, and even when I didn't, it was filled with the laughter, conversation and joy of said friend. Much time was spent discussing future ventures, current adventures, problems and plans, clothes and Vogue. All with a cup of tea in hand and generally some dessert of sorts gracing our taste buds. This was time well spent and sometimes mis-spent, I recall moments that we both really should have been using our time elsewhere and to something constructive, and yet we couldn't tear ourselves away from sitting in a tea shop, leisurely perusing books of possible future purchases and some we just liked to look at.
Time spent 'dress shopping' when there are already several dresses not yet in circulation. Because as every self-respecting female (and gay) knows, there is no better remedy than dress or shoe shopping. I say remedy but sometimes there was no problem to be solved or discussed, it was just the sheer pleasure of being with someone who's intelligence, charm and wit was always entertaining, even educational.
There too, was times of upset. Emotional car wrecks and baggage to be broken and sorted, each time with said friend holding the hand that held cake not days before. Sifting through the debris and always finding the solutions and words of encouragement. Likewise, I was there with more tea and cake, and a shopping trip for an umbrella, that seems to be the symbol for both hope and guilt.
Hand holding and hugs are always available for this said friend.
And tea.
And Bingo!!
So hurry up, said friend, I need you here!!!!
I am of course, talking about the dearest friend I could ever hope to encounter, but sadly me and said friend are somewhat distanced, and its taking its toll.
When in Leeds and I had free time, and even when I didn't, it was filled with the laughter, conversation and joy of said friend. Much time was spent discussing future ventures, current adventures, problems and plans, clothes and Vogue. All with a cup of tea in hand and generally some dessert of sorts gracing our taste buds. This was time well spent and sometimes mis-spent, I recall moments that we both really should have been using our time elsewhere and to something constructive, and yet we couldn't tear ourselves away from sitting in a tea shop, leisurely perusing books of possible future purchases and some we just liked to look at.
Time spent 'dress shopping' when there are already several dresses not yet in circulation. Because as every self-respecting female (and gay) knows, there is no better remedy than dress or shoe shopping. I say remedy but sometimes there was no problem to be solved or discussed, it was just the sheer pleasure of being with someone who's intelligence, charm and wit was always entertaining, even educational.
There too, was times of upset. Emotional car wrecks and baggage to be broken and sorted, each time with said friend holding the hand that held cake not days before. Sifting through the debris and always finding the solutions and words of encouragement. Likewise, I was there with more tea and cake, and a shopping trip for an umbrella, that seems to be the symbol for both hope and guilt.
Hand holding and hugs are always available for this said friend.
And tea.
And Bingo!!
So hurry up, said friend, I need you here!!!!
Friday, 27 July 2007
Elegance
I awake, china cup in hand, sitting by the window. Cat on my right, the sun on my left.
The telephone rings...
"Hello" say I,
"Is that Mr. Burke?" replies the voice.
"It is. May I ask who's calling"
"It's Earnest Jones in Chelsea. We're just ringing to inform you that your Diamond signet has arrived"
"Oh brilliant" say's I.
And with that I leave the house. As I get to the front door I notice a Parcel clearly marked for a 'Mr T. Hescott', but I know that this is truly for me. Cashmere.
What more could one want than a delivery of Cashmere and Diamonds??
The telephone rings...
"Hello" say I,
"Is that Mr. Burke?" replies the voice.
"It is. May I ask who's calling"
"It's Earnest Jones in Chelsea. We're just ringing to inform you that your Diamond signet has arrived"
"Oh brilliant" say's I.
And with that I leave the house. As I get to the front door I notice a Parcel clearly marked for a 'Mr T. Hescott', but I know that this is truly for me. Cashmere.
What more could one want than a delivery of Cashmere and Diamonds??
Thursday, 19 July 2007
A musical no-one has ever heard of...
"Ooh, ooh, I know this one!!"
"Yes Dean, it was sung in the first act"
"Oh..."
"Yes Dean, it was sung in the first act"
"Oh..."
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
'To be, or not to be? That is the question.'
When faced with the prospect of being in a West End show do you jump or do you wait to be pushed??
This morning I awoke from a dream I could only hope to forget, only to find it was on the path to reality. When I finally got out of bed, trying to prolong the forthcoming audition, nerves start fly to areas of my body I forgot existed. I grunted through morning conversation with Director Boy hoping to disguise the fact I was actually fully alert and coherent and completely petrified.
I haven't felt this nervous since the day I came out, realising the trust in what was placed in my mother was now public knowledge. I stand up and walk into the bathroom, clutching my stomach only to empty the contents quicker than should be humanly possible. Director Boy leaves for work with words of encouragement, and I sit there with only the thought that I was going to make a fool of myself in front him later in the day. After everything he's done to get me the aution the last thing I wanted to do was be unveiled as a theatrical fraud.
Time passes very slowly as I try and psyche myself up for the moment. Re-reading the scene I know is coming up and running imaginary conversations in my head, over and over. But all I can think about is how much my stomach still hurts, All in all I end up throwing up three times, each more painful than the last.
The moment finally comes and I approach stage door. A text arrives from Director Boy with yet more words, but I can barely read them, I need to concentrate on whats to come.
The audition itself was over in a matter of minutes. I read better than I thought I would but equally I felt relieved. My stomach felt settled and I felt great. I left the theatre after my first West End casting feeling proud of myself for just getting through it and not feeling like the world had collapsed.
Needless to say I didn't get the part, but I did get excellent feed back. There's no more I could ask for. Director Boy was proud of me and although I will never admit it, that was the only thing I wanted to achieve. When someone loves you as much as much as he does, there is nothing in the world I would do to disappoint or embarrass.
This morning I awoke from a dream I could only hope to forget, only to find it was on the path to reality. When I finally got out of bed, trying to prolong the forthcoming audition, nerves start fly to areas of my body I forgot existed. I grunted through morning conversation with Director Boy hoping to disguise the fact I was actually fully alert and coherent and completely petrified.
I haven't felt this nervous since the day I came out, realising the trust in what was placed in my mother was now public knowledge. I stand up and walk into the bathroom, clutching my stomach only to empty the contents quicker than should be humanly possible. Director Boy leaves for work with words of encouragement, and I sit there with only the thought that I was going to make a fool of myself in front him later in the day. After everything he's done to get me the aution the last thing I wanted to do was be unveiled as a theatrical fraud.
Time passes very slowly as I try and psyche myself up for the moment. Re-reading the scene I know is coming up and running imaginary conversations in my head, over and over. But all I can think about is how much my stomach still hurts, All in all I end up throwing up three times, each more painful than the last.
The moment finally comes and I approach stage door. A text arrives from Director Boy with yet more words, but I can barely read them, I need to concentrate on whats to come.
The audition itself was over in a matter of minutes. I read better than I thought I would but equally I felt relieved. My stomach felt settled and I felt great. I left the theatre after my first West End casting feeling proud of myself for just getting through it and not feeling like the world had collapsed.
Needless to say I didn't get the part, but I did get excellent feed back. There's no more I could ask for. Director Boy was proud of me and although I will never admit it, that was the only thing I wanted to achieve. When someone loves you as much as much as he does, there is nothing in the world I would do to disappoint or embarrass.
Friday, 13 July 2007
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
URGENT: All person's must visit Le Cinema and watch H.P.
Said film is amazing! It's my favourite book, after 'Half Blood Prince', and at present it is my favourite film in the series.
Enough!!
Go see film!!
Said film is amazing! It's my favourite book, after 'Half Blood Prince', and at present it is my favourite film in the series.
Enough!!
Go see film!!
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Hand's That Do Dishes
When the home is dirty, and not in the bedroom, its time to clean! Hands and knees are sore, and not from the bedroom, from scrubbing the floor. The polish comes out, furniture is moved, the hoover makes an appearance, The kitchen sink is filled with hot soapy loveliness that rejuvinates your hands better than any beauty cream ever could. It also wrinkles them so I'm not really revelling in that image. Also, I'm not really washing up, Director Boy is. Also, I'm not really hoovering, it is out but its crap so I literally am on my hands and knees like some Victorian scullery maid, complete with knittting and baking skills...
Once again my friends, I am going insane!!
The only thing that seems to bring me back to earth is re-arranging Vogue into alphabetical order and catagorise my some 300+ DVD's into sections, sub-sections and then having the insanity to alphbetise them. Pearl would be proud.
Can't wait to see her, my stylish and beautiful best friend. She arrives in a week and to be completely truthful I'm finding it both wierd and hard without her near. The international 'Get Pearl a job agency' is working around the clock to bring her to London. Hopefully all will be in order and the Home Office will allow the Visa application.
Once again my friends, I am going insane!!
The only thing that seems to bring me back to earth is re-arranging Vogue into alphabetical order and catagorise my some 300+ DVD's into sections, sub-sections and then having the insanity to alphbetise them. Pearl would be proud.
Can't wait to see her, my stylish and beautiful best friend. She arrives in a week and to be completely truthful I'm finding it both wierd and hard without her near. The international 'Get Pearl a job agency' is working around the clock to bring her to London. Hopefully all will be in order and the Home Office will allow the Visa application.
Monday, 9 July 2007
The Life of The W.A.G.
Just when you think you can visit a theatre as a normal human being, I.E. no press, stars, dressing room run's or bloody stairs. And after the success of 'Avenue Q.' I honestly thought the delightful visit to 'The Drowsy Chaperone' was going to be another of those nights.
I was wrong.
The show was indeed delightful. Very funny and cute. Those words, I might add, do not apply to the "star", and I use the term loosely. Very very loosely. Funny songs, good choreography, great sets and costumes. What more could you want, than Director Boy announcing he knows two people in the cast and were going backstage.
We didn't just go backstage, we gate crashed the leaving party. Filled with champagne, cocktails and Elaine Paige!
Jesus... Pass me the Musket!
I was wrong.
The show was indeed delightful. Very funny and cute. Those words, I might add, do not apply to the "star", and I use the term loosely. Very very loosely. Funny songs, good choreography, great sets and costumes. What more could you want, than Director Boy announcing he knows two people in the cast and were going backstage.
We didn't just go backstage, we gate crashed the leaving party. Filled with champagne, cocktails and Elaine Paige!
Jesus... Pass me the Musket!
Sunday, 8 July 2007
Shakespeare Sunday??
What a way to spend sunday: wake at noon to a delicious breakfast made by Director Boy. The new edition of Vogue to peruse. We made a Gingerbread house, and at 4:00pm treated to some open air Shakespeare in the rookery on Streatham Common.
I am ashamed to say we left at the interval. The second show this year I have walked out of. My defense to the first is that I was drunk. My defense to the second, that I still have both sanity and integrity. I am appalled to say that it was the worse production I have seen this year!! So bad that I am prepared to retract my previous opinions, and announce to the world that 'Beauty and the Beast' was amazing* and that Northern Broadsides are the best Shakespeare company that could ever tread the boards**.
I have no more to say on the subject.
Only that to emphasise how bad it was, it was Director Boy who decided we should leave.
* It was not.
** It most certainly isn't!
I am ashamed to say we left at the interval. The second show this year I have walked out of. My defense to the first is that I was drunk. My defense to the second, that I still have both sanity and integrity. I am appalled to say that it was the worse production I have seen this year!! So bad that I am prepared to retract my previous opinions, and announce to the world that 'Beauty and the Beast' was amazing* and that Northern Broadsides are the best Shakespeare company that could ever tread the boards**.
I have no more to say on the subject.
Only that to emphasise how bad it was, it was Director Boy who decided we should leave.
* It was not.
** It most certainly isn't!
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Lists, Lists, Lists
I look over to the bedside table, open the sleek draw to find my diary sitting under a copy of 'I Capture the Castle'. "Aha" I exclaim, gleefully lifting the heavy flock cover to reveal a scrawled list of theatre events. Here it is, my list of live theatre that I've seen in 2007 so far.
Reading down the list I realise that after the 7th April there are no more entries for theatre, and even then, the other entries are Director Boy's movements on tour.
So I search deep into the draw that seems bottomless, as I find more items that haven't seen daylight in a couple of months.
Making mental notes on missing theatre trips I start to BlogLog* them in chronological order. Reminiscing over each one as I carefully type in the date, production and place. From Opera to Ballet, Shakespeare to Eric Idle, they all speak to me with such beautiful language. Quotes and scenes flood back to my memory like a dam wall bursting with the rapids only having one direction home.
I type, remember, and cling to savouring feelings that each production left me with. Whether good or bad, nothing can compare to live theatre. Not even Vogue!
* To 'BlogLog', lists specifically on a blog page. I.E. Theatre, Other Blogs, Events, E.T.C...
Reading down the list I realise that after the 7th April there are no more entries for theatre, and even then, the other entries are Director Boy's movements on tour.
So I search deep into the draw that seems bottomless, as I find more items that haven't seen daylight in a couple of months.
Making mental notes on missing theatre trips I start to BlogLog* them in chronological order. Reminiscing over each one as I carefully type in the date, production and place. From Opera to Ballet, Shakespeare to Eric Idle, they all speak to me with such beautiful language. Quotes and scenes flood back to my memory like a dam wall bursting with the rapids only having one direction home.
I type, remember, and cling to savouring feelings that each production left me with. Whether good or bad, nothing can compare to live theatre. Not even Vogue!
* To 'BlogLog', lists specifically on a blog page. I.E. Theatre, Other Blogs, Events, E.T.C...
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