Sorry you've had to wait a bit longer than normal than this one. It turns out that making a solo show and renovating a campervan at the same time is quite a lot of work.
Joni is still in the process of getting a makeover and although at the moment, she is looking worse each day, it's a bit like she is going through those few days after you do a facemask and your skin goes all bonkers. Pretty soon, she will be looking wonderful- she's got new cupboards going in, new fabric on her roof (the inside, not the outside, that'd be insane) and a carpet of gorgeous glossy astoturf carpet. (this does oddly smell of uncooked meat, but I'm hoping that's just a 'new smell' and doesn't indicate that it's been in a butcher's window with mince nestling on it for the last few months)
Making the show is going pretty well- I had a brief hiccup on Saturday when I had to go for a walk round the block in the middle of the runthrough to have a little cry, but then I threw some forks, punched the toilet door, and all was fine again.
We have been in Joni outside the house every day for a week and we keep sporadically frightening the neighbours by suddenly emerging onto the pavement in a kind of HA HA WE'VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG sort or way. I suspect that some of them have started to think we've been kicked out of our house and are now sleeping in the van outside, but we are trying to convince them otherwise by wearing really different outfits every day and saying 'SO, the SHOW WE ARE DOING..' as loudly as possible.
I was interviewed for Radio 2 today which was extremely exciting. I was extremely nervous and for some reason decided that not having a kazoo was the main obstacle to the show not being ready yet. The interview will be played on the Claudia Winkleman show on Friday evening so I hope I come across as someone who is doing something interesting in a quirky space, rather than someone who is obsessed by old school comical instruments.
In other news, the garden is looking pretty wonderful. The pumpkin plant appears to be doing well on its mission to take over the world (it has now attached itself to most of the other plants and has grown quite a long way across the lawn) and we managed to have a courgette omelette with the most wonderful, green beautiful courgette there ever was. It did, however, feel a little strange eating vegetables in front of other vegetables, a bit like we were saying 'Ah ha ha, this is what will happen to you soon, GROW GROW MY PRETTIES..'
SO, all is growing. Vegetables are growing and the show is growing.
Come on August, I'm (almost) ready for you.
I just need that kazoo..
Monday 26 July 2010
Friday 16 July 2010
The Rain, the Unexpected Vegetable Forest and the Outdoor Makeover
And so, it rained.
Don't try and deny it, it's what everyone wanted (my dad was delighted)
We can all pretend that we like loads of sunshine but when push comes to shove, what we REALLY want is to have a great big massive moan about having to take our umbrellas out with us again.
I always feel a huge conflict during the event of heavy rain. There is a huge part of me that wants to run, freely and without inhibitions, into the street, dance in the rain and let the water soak me through in a joyous manner. There is, however, another part of me that imagines the inevitably irritating process afterwards, trying to get mud off the carpet, having to have a warm bath to avoid catching a chill, and generally feeling like a bit of a wally.
Chances are, if you pause to go and put an anorak on, the moment has passed.
The garden is looking, to quote Alan Titchmarsh, bloody amazing (I've never actually heard him say that but he's an enthusiastic fellow and I imagine he's said it at some point, possibly upon completing a brilliant patio)
Everything has grown a LOT. Except the grass seeds. They have all died a painful and crispy death. This is mainly because we both forgot about them and they have therefore had no water at all for about 2 weeks.
We now have three strawberries. This is very exciting. Tom and I are both nervous about eating any of them, however, due to a fear that we have either accidentally spawned something poisonous, or that they are not ready yet, despite being the perfect size and colour.
We have teeny tiny courgettes. And we have learned from previous experience that we shouldn't pick them yet. This lesson was learned the hard way when we picked and ate some spring onions that actually turned out to be leeks that had been picked 6 months too early.
In the meantime, at the other side of the house, Joni the campervan is being fancied up and prepared for her journey up to Edinburgh in (gulp) two weeks time. After an hour's work on her interior, she is now looking significantly WORSE than she did before, but we keep telling ourselves that it has to get worse before it gets better. Tom did spend somewhere in the reason of 4 hours scratching the glue of a tiny patch of paintwork, and I have, of course, told him that he is my hero. This weekend will be mainly spent in Joni outside the house, trying not to electrocute ourselves on any loose wiring and talking about how excited we are to head up to Edinburgh in our beautiful orange bus. At the moment she is going through the campervan equivalent of getting a manicure, a pedicure, a facemask, a hairmask, a chemical peel and an eyebrow sort out. Unlike humans, however, poor Joni is getting all this in the street and is being left there overnight.
She seems to have created a bit of a buzz on our street, which is totally heartwarming. People keep stopping to say hello when we are near her, and neighbours are wishing us well for our month away.
It's very exciting indeed.
Don't try and deny it, it's what everyone wanted (my dad was delighted)
We can all pretend that we like loads of sunshine but when push comes to shove, what we REALLY want is to have a great big massive moan about having to take our umbrellas out with us again.
I always feel a huge conflict during the event of heavy rain. There is a huge part of me that wants to run, freely and without inhibitions, into the street, dance in the rain and let the water soak me through in a joyous manner. There is, however, another part of me that imagines the inevitably irritating process afterwards, trying to get mud off the carpet, having to have a warm bath to avoid catching a chill, and generally feeling like a bit of a wally.
Chances are, if you pause to go and put an anorak on, the moment has passed.
The garden is looking, to quote Alan Titchmarsh, bloody amazing (I've never actually heard him say that but he's an enthusiastic fellow and I imagine he's said it at some point, possibly upon completing a brilliant patio)
Everything has grown a LOT. Except the grass seeds. They have all died a painful and crispy death. This is mainly because we both forgot about them and they have therefore had no water at all for about 2 weeks.
We now have three strawberries. This is very exciting. Tom and I are both nervous about eating any of them, however, due to a fear that we have either accidentally spawned something poisonous, or that they are not ready yet, despite being the perfect size and colour.
We have teeny tiny courgettes. And we have learned from previous experience that we shouldn't pick them yet. This lesson was learned the hard way when we picked and ate some spring onions that actually turned out to be leeks that had been picked 6 months too early.
In the meantime, at the other side of the house, Joni the campervan is being fancied up and prepared for her journey up to Edinburgh in (gulp) two weeks time. After an hour's work on her interior, she is now looking significantly WORSE than she did before, but we keep telling ourselves that it has to get worse before it gets better. Tom did spend somewhere in the reason of 4 hours scratching the glue of a tiny patch of paintwork, and I have, of course, told him that he is my hero. This weekend will be mainly spent in Joni outside the house, trying not to electrocute ourselves on any loose wiring and talking about how excited we are to head up to Edinburgh in our beautiful orange bus. At the moment she is going through the campervan equivalent of getting a manicure, a pedicure, a facemask, a hairmask, a chemical peel and an eyebrow sort out. Unlike humans, however, poor Joni is getting all this in the street and is being left there overnight.
She seems to have created a bit of a buzz on our street, which is totally heartwarming. People keep stopping to say hello when we are near her, and neighbours are wishing us well for our month away.
It's very exciting indeed.
Saturday 3 July 2010
The Sun, The Tiny Strawberry and the Tomato Mirage.
Goodness me it's a bit hot isn't it. I am not complaining- I like having problems sleeping and having a purple face, but I don't think the garden is particularly enjoying it. Everything is looking a bit crispy and despite my attempts to keep it watered as much as I can, this is proving to be quite tricky when all we have is a watering can that holds about as much water as my own hands, and has a broken spraying bit that keeps falling off, unleashing an impromptu gush at any given moment.
Someone mentioned earlier in the week that it might rain overnight, and I actually found myself saying 'well, the garden needs it.'
It was at that point that I actually became my dad.
It feels too grown up to buy a hosepipe. I can't support that sort of lavish water spraying. Although I am tempted to get a sprinkler, then Tom and I can put our swimming costumes on in the early evening, dare each other to run through it, then have an ice lolly. It'd be like we were 8.
On a positive note, we have successfully produced ONE STRAWBERRY. It's little, it's alone. It's perfect. I can't bring myself to pick it until it has friends, but let's just say that in a few weeks time, it's very possible that Tom and I will be having a TINY Wimbledon party dessert. Maybe we can drink a thimble of champagne each and call it a 'micro- soiree.' I'm sure it's been done in Hoxton.
It also turns out that both Tom and I, independently of each other, have become VERY excited about seeing the several tomatoes that the plant has produced, had a little celebration in our own heads, then realised that it was actually the picture of some tomatoes on the seed packet. I love the fact that we BOTH did this, and am amused by the idea that Juniper the cat knew all along, and sat looking at us with veiled embarrassment for her gullible parents.
In other news, it's full steam ahead for my show Running on Air at the Fringe Festival this year. Joni is getting pimped up, I found the best curtain material in the entire world (yes, that's right) in a charity shop in Orpington, and as I was frighteningly informed earlier this week, it's 33 days until the beginning of the festival. Time to start taking those multi-vitamins.
I am, in equal measures, incredibly excited and terrifyingly nervous- this is my first solo show and, as it is so autobiographical, I have at times found it difficult to articulate how I feel and how I want this to manifest itself in the show. Earlier this week I got a little lost. I was unable to see the path ahead and had a bit of a panic. Actually it was a huge panic. I threw a notebook at a chest of drawers. It was tough.
I never thought I'd write this, but 24 hours in Stafford sorted me right out.
I have realised the power of being up high. I sat alone up a little hill by the castle for a few hours and found inspiration again, like a new breeze.
I'm back.
And I'm excited.
Someone mentioned earlier in the week that it might rain overnight, and I actually found myself saying 'well, the garden needs it.'
It was at that point that I actually became my dad.
It feels too grown up to buy a hosepipe. I can't support that sort of lavish water spraying. Although I am tempted to get a sprinkler, then Tom and I can put our swimming costumes on in the early evening, dare each other to run through it, then have an ice lolly. It'd be like we were 8.
On a positive note, we have successfully produced ONE STRAWBERRY. It's little, it's alone. It's perfect. I can't bring myself to pick it until it has friends, but let's just say that in a few weeks time, it's very possible that Tom and I will be having a TINY Wimbledon party dessert. Maybe we can drink a thimble of champagne each and call it a 'micro- soiree.' I'm sure it's been done in Hoxton.
It also turns out that both Tom and I, independently of each other, have become VERY excited about seeing the several tomatoes that the plant has produced, had a little celebration in our own heads, then realised that it was actually the picture of some tomatoes on the seed packet. I love the fact that we BOTH did this, and am amused by the idea that Juniper the cat knew all along, and sat looking at us with veiled embarrassment for her gullible parents.
In other news, it's full steam ahead for my show Running on Air at the Fringe Festival this year. Joni is getting pimped up, I found the best curtain material in the entire world (yes, that's right) in a charity shop in Orpington, and as I was frighteningly informed earlier this week, it's 33 days until the beginning of the festival. Time to start taking those multi-vitamins.
I am, in equal measures, incredibly excited and terrifyingly nervous- this is my first solo show and, as it is so autobiographical, I have at times found it difficult to articulate how I feel and how I want this to manifest itself in the show. Earlier this week I got a little lost. I was unable to see the path ahead and had a bit of a panic. Actually it was a huge panic. I threw a notebook at a chest of drawers. It was tough.
I never thought I'd write this, but 24 hours in Stafford sorted me right out.
I have realised the power of being up high. I sat alone up a little hill by the castle for a few hours and found inspiration again, like a new breeze.
I'm back.
And I'm excited.
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