Counting Chickens

Having been to the recall for the audition last night, I've been left in unfamiliar territory. I think I did pretty good - I think they liked me, but my ego appears to be on the rampage. I did one scene with one other person, which was fine, and then I had to read in an ensemble piece, which left me cold.

There haven't been many occasions where I've thought "I'm a better actor than these people"; once when I had volunteered to help out a group who had lost a couple of actors after casting and that was about it. I auditioned with one other chap who was completely lovely but none of the other cast members were there, so by the time I had agreed to help out it was too late.

I met up with everyone for the first rehearsal and was simply gobsmacked by the fucking awfulness of the other incredibly amateur actors, and the fucking creepy director who insisted that you couldn't wear your own shoes if you were going to "truly step into the shoes of another character", so would walk around with his disgusting long toed, long nailed feet out all the time. His idea of direction was to stare at the script (not, in fact, at what was going on ON THE STAGE) and pick you up on any missed word or comma. Needless to say it was a bloody awful production of short scenes in a village hall, not least because some creepy fucker, who would be well in the rankings of stalker of the year award, decided that on stage, in front of my parents would be a great time to lunge in with some unrehearsed tongue action. In a Chekov scene for God's sake. Ugh.

Let me just point out that this audition was no where near the badness of this previous experience, but it had echoes of it which have left me very uncomfortable. One guy decided that he would make the sound effect of the beep of a car instead of just ACTING like he'd heard it. One woman kept trying to move me about the stage during the scene which aside from being incredibly annoying, is SO disrespectful to another actor - what, I haven't thought about why I'm doing what I'm doing? The part that I was reading for is they type that is likely to upstage other characters at certain points (she starts the play speedy as hell, almost certainly on a number of different drugs, then smokes joints and drinks herself into a stupor before having something akin to a nervous breakdown), so the other female parts are going to have to let her fly and deal with the fact they're not the centre of attention at all times.

Another guy (who, I have concluded, is a twat) had a big fucking rant after the scene ended that someone had stolen his "special pencil" and went on about it for about a year.

All of the actors that read through that scene with me were older than me. Some took that as an opportunity to patronise me, others to ignore me. None of them were very good. The two women weren't bad but they were pedestrian in their reading and left me a bit bored. The men were, not to put too fine a point on it, crap. I am not suggesting that I am this acting wunderkid, and after all this I probably won't be offered a part in the first place but if I am offered it, I am seriously considering turning it down.

This would be a first, but my Mum (who knows best) always encourages me to follow my gut instinct. My instinct about this play is that if it's done well, it could be fantastic - funny, dark, moving and so interesting. If it's done badly it will simply be boring. And for the amount of rehearsal time the director is expecting (Monday, Wednesday, Thursday evenings and Sunday afternoons) I don't want to give up my life again for something that bores me. Especially with the writing possibilities which have started to come along lately, which have got me really excited.

I've had a new idea on the writing front for a play which I'm currently playing with and piecing together. I must confess that having seen Mr B at the writing workshop and being impressed with his ideas I have got him on board to help me out with it. So far I'm incredibly glad that I have as a long phone conversation with him on Wednesday afternoon really helped me to make some decisions about where it's going to go and what needs to be decided before we go any further. He's a structure nerd as well, which has made me consider very early on how the story is going to reveal itself and figure out some important narrative points; eg: It's not going to be linear - two stories are going to run alongside one another about the same person before and after a particular event in her life. Next stop: characterisation. See? Exciting!

The date on Wednesday was a really interesting evening. Not sure that it warrants a nickname just yet for the gentleman (who was exactly that - terribly chivalrous; doors held open, chairs pulled back etc) as it felt very much like we were on best behaviour, so I'm not sure how much of the real him I actually saw. He was a lovely chap - he's 29 and really interested in spirituality and meditation so he doesn't really drink much (which, in London, is weird) and has a lot of things to say on many different subjects. He's incredibly well travelled and put my experiences of Dominican Republic, a couple of Canary Islands and a smattering of French camping trips when I was knee high to a grasshopper to shame! I have no doubt that he could teach me much about the world, but I kept having that conversation in my head of "Yes, but do I fancy you?" all through the date. At the end, when we went our separate ways on the tube he kissed me twice on the lips before dashing off - not even a snog! Which I must admit has left me wanting more. A second date would be interesting and I would not say no, but I find myself in the strange position of letting him do all the running. It's quite nice to sit on the fence at the moment, but soon enough it will either progress or fizzle out. And either way is fine by me! Ooh it's terribly strange being this relaxed about things.

So, straw poll - what are your thoughts on this audition malarky? I'll update you on whether they offer it or not xxx

Update: I was offered the part and I have turned it down.

Have just spoken to the Kiwi about it too - figured that I've proved that I can act - I've played comic and serious roles to good reviews, but I still have loads of stuff to try out and prove to myself when it comes to writing. And that prospect is sooo exciting :)

Date Night

This week has been shaping up rather well so far, though by saying as much I may well be jinxing myself. Ah what the hell, I'll live dangerously and repent later.

The weekend was a pretty cool one - saw a play on Saturday evening then went off to a house party of one of the girls from work. It was supposed to be a cocktail party, and having spent about six years of my life as a bartender I decided to wow the party goers with my concoction of "Cheeky Vimto" - a shot of port with a blue WKD. Most of the party for me was spent out in the garden with the smokers and the people trying to keep the mini bonfire going.

I got chatting with a chap with long ish blond hair and a beard who was rather lovely. He had very smiley eyes and thought I was hilarious. He was a friend of a friend of a housemate of my friend. He kept saying to his friend "Isn't she funny!! You're so funny!" For some reason I found this to be endearing. So I allowed him to take my number at the end of the night, and we will be going out this evening to a venue that I've been desperate to go to forever... in fact it is somewhere that Mr B always promised to take me and never did,

On Sunday saw my return to the theatre - not the one I work at the other one that I do stuff at. I went to an audition at three for a play by Shelagh Stephenson with a new director who I've not heard of before so not sure if she's a good director or someone who is going to make me want to kill her. The play is pretty good and the female characters are all great - you could get your teeth into them. I got a recall for this Thursday along with another of the Kiwi's exes (who is bloody brill - she was the ex before me... a kiwi ex of the Kiwi, if you like) so we'll be auditioning again together. I would bloody love to be sisters in this play! We'll see though.

Then there was the writing workshop with lots of my favourite people. Which gave me a new idea for a new bit of writing and meant that I saw Mr B for the first time since the Chat. It was fine - in fact it was nice to see him, but didn't leave me reeling. Huzzah!

Things wot I have learned...

(Drury Lane, Theatre Royal, in the olden days - as they were officially known back then)

...In the last couple of days include:


1. Lots about theatre in the olden days.
2. That the amazing Lear had mixed reviews (but I still love it).

3. That I want to audition for something again.

4. That the Kiwi is brilliant.

I shall now impart some of my knowledge!!


1. Lots about theatre in the olden days.
Some of my lovely colleagues and I went on a Backstage Tour yesterday of a big old theatre in Drury Lane called the Theatre Royal on a bit of a Busman's holiday. Being tour guides at a theatre ourselves, we were debating beforehand whether to come clean about where we came from or pretend to be students but in the event we came clean. The tour started off a teeny bit cringily but once the girl and the guy who took us around realised that our little group of six were fairly knowledgable about theatre (four were us, the other two were an Italian couple, the female half of which was asking frighteningly intelligent questions) they left some of the staginess behind and tailored the tour for us a bit.


It was very interesting! We learned that the theatre has a Kings entrance and a Princes entrance because in ye olde days King George (the mad one) and Prince George (the one played by Hugh Laurie in Blackadder) had a fight in the foyer of the theatre because the king disapproved of the prince's drinking and bad behaviour.


We learned that around the turn of the 20th Century, there were a series of plays that had animals in them - one with about 15 horses harnessed up to the fly-tower so their feet were barely touching the floor and the floor was turned into a big running machine so the horses were cantering with a back-cloth of the Epsom race track flying by.


We learned that the theatre has an Elephant door because in one show there were four elephants which were too big to be housed at the Theatre Royal so each night they were led down the road to the Royal Opera House and lots of people would come and wait along the route to past the Elephants on their way home!


We learned that the theatre standing on the site now is the third incarnation of the Theatre Royal as the earlier two burnt to the ground. Ironically the second Theatre Royal was the first theatre to ever have an Iron safety curtain installed - necessary because the stage was lit by a huge chandelier with 200 candles on it, which was dropped closer to the stage for scenes set in daylight, and raised up for night time. The actors never washed their costumes (ick) but perfumed them instead, and wore large wigs. This was something of a fire hazard. So on the second time around an iron curtain was put in to be dropped if a fire broke out to protect the expensive part of the theatre (any part the audience could see - backstage was and is functional to say the least...) and a huge tank of water was kept above the stage to douse the flames. When a fire broke out 14 years after the new theatre opened they went to drop the safety curtain - which failed to work. It had rusted shut over the 14 years of never being tested. They opened the tank to douse the flames... which had no water in it. The theatre burnt to the ground. Again.


All lovely stories, I trust you'll agree!





2. Lear's mixed reviews

I was quite shocked to be honest! There are links to the National papers reviews on this brilliant website but a lot of them didn't like the first version which was performed in Liverpool which was apparently more gimmicky. They have definitely left out stuff in the Young Vic version but also lots of the things I liked about it were hated by the critics. In answer to Rosie's comment, Gloucester's eyes met the following sticky end; the Duke of Cornwall popped one out (with a very audible pop and spurt of blood) and Regan sucked the other out and spat it in a water trough. Then they got frisky. It was DISGUSTING. And slightly brilliant.


3. Audition ahoy!

I got an unexpected email from the theatre I usually perform with about auditions for a play called The Memory of Water. I'd never heard of it but it but the synopses sounded good so I looked it up and found out it was originally a Steppenwolf production. I saw August: Osage County recently and was blown away by it so now I'm itching to have a go at this one. Maybe I'll be treading the boards again soon?


4. Marvellous Kiwi

He is a clever one that little ex-hairy Bear. He wants me to assist with the creation of, and perform a ten minute musical monologue for the next writing thing, where I did my bit of writing for previously. We were messing around for it yesterday after recording the last little bit for the spy film soundtrack (not sure if I've mentioned it here before) which will be shown at Cannes short film festival later this year. I think. I sing a couple of bits on it and so far it has been seen by Danny Boyle and Gus Van Sant (apparently) which is exciting in a non-direct sort of a way... I can't imagine they're going to watch this film and "discover" me - the director, the actors and the composer of the soundtrack (the Kiwi) possibly, but not some bint singing a minute or two of mournful songs. Oh well, all good for the CV should I go mental and try to do anything professionally.


Tra la la. Now off to the pub!

Pete Postlethwaite + Shakespeare = Magic

"Nothing comes of nothing. Speak again."
(King Lear)

Oooooooooooooooh, just seen a FANTASTIC production of King Lear, with Pete Postlethwaite in the title role. It was completely amazing and has left me reeling. All inspired about the joys that are inherent in Shakespeare and all that jazz. I'm still getting little shivers, and I've been home for almost an hour.

More soon xx

Resting in Pieces

I have lately been enjoying the calm that is reigning in my head. The fact that the second date with Blondy was so completely pointless has made my mind up that for the moment this Newbie will be remaining away from romantic encounters for a little while anyway. Romantic encouters may not include drunken flirting in pubs occasionally but dates, meetings up and snoggings and anything that may stem from the aforementioned is off the menu for a bit. I am enjoying having my thoughts all to myself for a while. My brain is boy free and it's bloody lovely.

This date then - the short version of what happened is that Blondy got sappy and started talking about friends weddings he'd been to whilst staring deep into my eyes and hammering home the point that that's what he'd want to get married one day. I managed to keep a lid on my reaction to this display for precisely two glasses of wine, then got drunk and obnoxious.

The night didn't end well - I started talking about the book I'd read recently(I like books. A lot. I can talk about them with feeling for some time.) and asked him if he was reading anything at the moment. He said he was reading Angels and Demons by Dan Brown. Which is fine. Or it would have been if I wasn't a bloody snob. I asked how he was finding it. He answered, "Well... it's a bit... far-fetched..." "REALLY???!!??" I asked in mock shock. I explained I'd just finished Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie which I'd found quite hard work but ultimately rewarding, to which he replied, "Who's he?"

He went back to the subject of marriage after this scintillating conversation at which point I'd had enough really - I explained shortly that I had doubts about whether I wanted to ever get married and that finding someone to be my other half wasn't something that I was interested in. He asked if I'd ever given my heart away. I said yes, but as I got older I was seeing the sense in self preservation rather than flinging myself after people. He called me cynical and told me for the thirtieth time that he was a romantic. I agreed that I was cynical and said that "romantic" wasn't a personality trait.

By the end of the evening I really REALLY didn't think he'd still move in for the kill but ever the "romantic" (if romantic means someone who can't take a bloody hint...) in he went. It wasn't good. He got offended that I moved away without letting him give me a proper snog but still followed me onto the tube, even though he could have left me alone and gone to get a bus. I informed him in no uncertain terms that he was not coming home with me and he stared into my eyes and said seriously that it was ok, he knew that I wasn't that easy. I started quoting Jeanette Winterson at him linking love with death and finally he got the message. He started sniggering; when I asked him what he was laughing at he said that some things were better left unsaid. If I had been even one tiny bit more pissed I would have said a few things to him that were better left unsaid. I ignored him for two stops and when he leaned in for another kiss (hello??) I presented my cheek. He got off the tube and before he was even out the door I had my book out.

He hasn't called. Why o why???

I behaved very badly but can't get rid of the sneaking suspicion that he deserved it a bit. Anyway, lesson learned - no more dates with clean cut, nice boy swimmers. Apparently they want to get married, which I do not react well to. Apparently.

In happier news, there seems to be some new talent in a couple of the backstage crews at work. It's lovely to have some eye candy, but no dates for the moment. Even one more like that in the near future might put me off for life.

So what has been wafting around my lovely empty head?? I hear you cry (humour me, I am a div.)! Well I am slowly getting used to having ideas about things and actually holding onto them long enough to write down the bare bones of them. So far I had a cool dream about a house with a clock tower in a wood which I woke up and wrote the story of why the house had a clock tower straight after. The dream I had featured a young girl sheltering an army deserter but I haven't really touched that bit yet - it's still washing around my head and I thought I'd let it sit there for a bit. I keep having dreams about being thrown into a situation where I have to go on stage and perform with almost no time to prepare - three so far and have scribbled down two of them.

Then the other day I had this eureka moment based around ideas nicked from three different places - the possibility that there are a number of parallel universes which are only accessible through dreams and a girl with an incredibly boring real life begins to realise this and can choose which universe to follow in her sleep. Though I'm not sure how it would unfold or what to do with it yet. It could be written in alternate scenes - real life, all grey and mundane followed by dream universe all madly coloured and exciting. It does feel a bit like it's been done, but again I'm letting it stew.

I got an email from Mr B the other day who I've not heard from or even thought about much since our Chat. He asked if I'd be willing to start working with him in a writing capacity soon, over email as I'd said that I thought I'd work better with someone else helping to develop and breathe life into this stuff and he was really really keen to work with me - he was very keen on my short piece that I did before for the Theatre and said that he loved writing but always got stuck on having the actual ideas.

The thing is, I'm not sure if I want him back in my head or my life yet. It's only been about three weeks and I told him to give me a couple of months (three actually) to sort my head out. But if it's only over email and I don't have to see him then maybe that would be ok. I'm having a think about it and haven't replied to him yet... I'm a bit hormonal at the moment so thought it would be wise to leave it alone until I'm assured of my sanity (such as it is).

Any thoughts on any of this stuff would be lovely!

Idiot test: FAIL

Imagine what a numpty you'd have to be to get your days confused and become convinced that it is the day after the day it is, to the point where you arrive at work four hours early and dress up for a date that is, in fact, the next day.

Well done me.

Hello?

I'm sat on the tube quietly slogging my way through the final quarter of Midnight's Children by Salmon Rushdie while the chap next to me fidgets. It's lunchtime so the tube isn't that busy, there are a couple of spare seats. I'm vaguely aware of his presence but have immersed myself in my book. Suddenly he turns to me and says,

"Is there no signal on the tube?"

I realise that he's been fiddling with his mobile phone, which is an unusual make with a little extendable aerial. He is holding it to his ear when he asks me this. I look at him in surprise.

"No - no signal down here. We're underground, you see."

He looks at me distrustfully.

"Not even at the stations?"

"Well... no. Because we're underground there's no way of the signal getting down here. So there isn't any reception on the tube."

He stares at me in disbelief. I nod, to reaffirm what I'm saying. He turns away. I suddenly have a thought.

"Actually, there is service on some tube lines but only if they have some overground sections. Like the district line - sometimes you can use your phone on there. But not the Northern Line - it's all underground here."

He grunts at me, then proceeds to try making a phone call at every single station we stop at, tutting at his phone when it inevitably fails to connect. I sit next to him trying not to laugh out loud at him all the way to work.

*******************************************************

A busy week this week with lots of exciting things happening. Protesters storming a stage at the theatre, a very brilliant night out with a motley crew of girlfriends which resulted in some most awesome photos on Facebook and some girl on girl drunk snogging, and the long awaited (though not by me) date with Blondy. And I saw another play this evening which is rather less likely to have protesters storming anything, but was really rather good.

But as it's late I won't bang on - suffice to say that Guilty Pleasures, the club night at Koko nightclub which saw the drunken shenanigans on Saturday was one of the best nights out I've had for a long time, made all the better for it being entirely girly and silly (the theme was Circus, so I went as a trapeze artist).

The date on Sunday evening was fine. Just fine. He's a pleasant chap - but really overly keen with nothing at all to base his opinions on. I get the impression that he really wants to find a girlfriend and is likely to bestow anyone he's interested in with the qualities he's looking for. He's also an analyst who proceeded to analyse how well the date was going every half an hour or so. So let's say I'm not exactly sold on this one. But in the interests of giving the guy a chance (and taking him up on the dinner he was begging to let him buy me) I'm meeting him tomorrow. If I don't feel any spark tomorrow then I'm going to knock it on the head. He actually told me how he was happy in all areas of his life but there was "one thing missing", whilst staring into my eyes. Does he not realise he's dealing with a commitment-phobe here?

I appreciate that he wants to meet someone special, but I don't think that his decision that I am amazing, based on spending about six hours with me in total, is a little premature. Clearly I am amazing (huh) but it takes a little more that a drunken meeting and a first date to suss that. It strikes me that he might want someone to be his other half - to complete his life as he said. But I never wanted to be someones other half - I feel pretty complete as it is, though meeting someone who can connect with me and enlighten me would be bloody nice. In short, I want a meeting of minds, rather than a merging of minds. But then again I am basing this on spending no more that six hours with him, so what do I know?