The Sunshine, The Ambush and the Slow Motion Montage

And so, here we are.

On tour.

Yowsers.

I am hoping to update this frequently while I am away- the idea of writing this from a little window somewhere makes me happy. I am currently sitting in a hotel room in a swish hotel in Retford, (near Worksop, I THINK) and wearing a new jumper that I bought today. It makes me feel like Felicity Kendal in The Good Life. This is mainly because it looks like I've already owned it for about 20 years. I think it's a little way of taking the allotment with me on tour. My husband was reluctant to let me take a fruit bush in the van with me so looking like I should be holding a spade will have to suffice.

Leaving to go on tour on Friday was tricky- this was for 3 main reasons:

1) I am rubbish at packing. I tend to pack as many things as I can physically put in a bag, usually breaking a zip in the process as I have a very GET IN THERE- JUST GET IN YOU IDIOT approach. Packing for several months was a huge challenge for me, not only because I do not own a suitcase. I am now using a large bag designed for a golfer.

2)I kept getting distracted by the Royal Wedding. I say 'distracted'- what I actually mean is that I kept having to stop what I was doing to have a big cry. In short, I will cry at all weddings, no matter how tasteless/unemotional/misjudged they are. You could put a weasel in a white dress and I would cry at 'how beautiful' it looked. This is not to suggest that Kate Middleton looks like a wease. I think the general consensus is that she is a 'hottie'.

3) I was feeling a bit emotional anyway, about the idea of being away from home for several months. I was unbelievably excited about the tour- it's something I've been counting down to for a while- but I felt all teary about leaving Tom for a little while. I had my suspicions that these emotions were bubbling when I inexplicably burst into tears during an election montage in The West Wing the night before. Montages, like weddings, are guaranteed to make me cry. Particularly if there is any element of slow-motion.

Inspite of all this emotion, driving away from the house in beautiful Joni, beeping the horn and waving to Tom out of the window felt so incredibly exciting. The first few hours of driving were thrilling- my stage manager Beck who is with me, and I, ate several jelly babies, and I discovered Becky's INCREDIBLE talent for a terrifying accurate impression of a peacock. Quite a shock in such a small space but I enjoyed it immensely.

And, here I am now, having already done 8 shows. The first stop was The Junction in Cambridge, a festival of new, site specific and imtimate work. The sun was shining, the people were smiling, and it was so windy that I had constant fear of my dress blowing over my head, giving the audience far more than they had paid for. I felt nervous and exhilarating doing the show again after such a long break, but the people that Joni welcomed in through her doors were kind, enthusiastic and brought the sunshine in with them.

I did have one show, on Sunday that I will hereafter be referring to as 'The Great Ambush of 2011.' During the middle section of the show, it seems I was 'set upon' by approximately 20 local youths, who found it amusing to knock on all the windows, open the doors and rock the van, a experience that shocked me more than I would have predicted. What I try to do within the show is to create a tiny little world inside Joni- distant from reality. I want people to forget where they are for an hour, and feel that inside Joni is all that exists. An invasion from the outside world left me shaken as it was so unexpected. The audience with me during that show were truly wonderful, and after a small cry (YES I CRIED AGAIN- it's been an emotional week.) we continued our journey together. I doubt I will ever forget that show.

I will also never forget the fact that for the shows that followed that one- Joni and I were granted our very own security guard. How incredibly exciting. I felt like J-Lo, although 'L-Mug' is not a name I will be taking on. Due to the heat of the afternoon, I did have to insist that my burly security guard popped on a bit of suncream (I do worry) but he didn't protest, and the rest of the afternoon travelled along smoothly, with more lovely audience members and more sunshine.

Today we drive to Leeds. I have never been to Leeds. Apparently it's quite snazzy. Joni and I are excited.

More...much more to come....

The Feast, the Suitcase and David Tenant.

Well, it's a beautiful sunny day again. It does seem that I often spent sunny days inside doing adminstrational tasks. I think that the sun inspires me to write. It also inspires me to eat Feast ice creams, a treat for which I currently have a seemingly unstoppable obsession. Managing to eat the outside ice cream bit without breaking the inside chocolate bit is surely one of life's great achievements. If I manage it, I often feel the need to approach the nearest person and shout 'LOOK! I DID IT! I AM THE ULTIMATE CHAMPION!' at them.

You'll be pleased to know that I have, up to now, managed to resist that urge.

I'll be heading down to the allotment in a little while, with Desert Island Discs in my ears. I have recently discovered their archives and am enjoying so much learning lots about some of my heroes. I am also enjoying the realisation that celebrities are not necessary cooler than me when it comes to music. Particularly David Tenant.

The allotment is coming along nicely, and is still providing me with the most wonderful of peaceful moments. We do need a new watering can, as the current one pours both out of the spout, and out of the bottom, soaking your wellies and your trousers from the knees downwards. It's very cooling, but I often leave the allotment looking suspiciously like I've wet myself.

The kitchen and bathroom are now full of tomato seedlings planted in cut off toilet rolls. I have only made the water/ Flash cleaner mistake once in the last few weeks, and to be honest, I don't those particular seeds were going to do that well anyway.

I will miss the allotment while I am away on tour. It has turned out to be a little haven for me. I am going to take a photo of it away with me, put it up in Joni the campervan, and make sure I take time to look at it and imagine myself back there when things get a bit too much. The tour is fast approaching- I leave a week tomorrow (yowsers, that's the first time I've written that down) and it is all starting to feel very real. I am incredibly excited about it, and also get waves of unbearable nausea about every 45 minutes when I remember what I am about to embark upon.

I found myself in Cambridge last weekend and popped into The Junction theatre, which is my first stop next week. (I went to Cambridge on purpose, I didn't 'find myself' there after getting massively lost on my way back from Budgeons.) They interviewed me about the show, and I thought I'd pop that link in here. Please remember if you listen to it that I am 30, and not 11 like I sound:

http://audioboo.fm/boos/334710-junction-sampled-festival-podcast-interview-with-laura-mugridge-joni-part-one

Last week was a week of redevelopment of the show. The story is so autobiographical that I felt it needed to be updated. It was a week of hard work, tough at times, and involved many emotions, including euphoria, blind fear, disbelief and, principally, joy that I get to do this show all over again. It also involved an AWFUL lot of tea. I seemed to spend the entire time washing up mugs, but I am sure there was some rehearsal in there somewhere too.

Being on tour is a new experience for me. Generally, I like being at home. I like pottering about, I like writing from this little spot by the window. I like my husband.

I am in the process of putting together a 'Tour Survival Kit' to ease the worry of being away for so long. After realising that I probably needed a suitcase more than I needed 'fancy exfoliator for skin-treat,' I have reworked the list and come up with something more practical.

1) Suitcase (carrying all belongings in a selection of Sainsburys carrier bags is not correct behaviour for a woman in her 30s)
2)New washbag (old one has remnants of Lush solid shampoo bar that has been welded on to the side since 2004)
3) Notebook for musings
4) Superman pyjamas PLUS CAPE (it makes me feel magical, even when worn with sleepwear)
5) Series One of Quantum Leap (I can't afford the whole set so am doing it one series at a time)
6) Large supply of Sesame Snaps
7) Photo of allotment
8) Clothes


Now all that's sorted, I can concentrate on being exited. I've a feeling that's going to take up a lot of time. In the meantime, I am heading down to Devon on Saturday to join my husband who is away rehearsing a show with his dad. We will be spending the Easter weekend camping in Joni, giving her a last civilian treat before she switches into show mode. We will also be celebrating our 2nd wedding anniversary. It seems crazy that our wedding day, with its perfect magical moments, dancing until 2am and the 'worst weather that Cornwall has seen in 7 years' was two whole years ago. I can't wait to spend the day on Monday with that awesome bloke I married, and, of course, kicking his ass at backgammon. He may be handsome and brilliant, but he can be unbearably smug when he beats me at board games.

The Hula Hoop, the Seedlings and the Mystery Potatoes

Goodness me, what a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the coffee is hot and the cat is going mental over a broken guitar string that she is attempting to communicate with by squeaking at it.

I have had an extremely busy few weeks, lots of time spent indoors, an upsetting amount of time on trains (typically carrying a selection of objects that raised eyebrows each time I got onto the tube) I wish I could say that in the last 2 weeks I hadn't knocked lots of stuff off a shelf in Tesco with a hula hoop and then got a lady's leg trapped in it, because alas, I can't.

I have been doing a project in a primary school in Essex, the target of which is being brave. We are asking the children to look outside of their comfort zone and take risks. If ever I go into school feeling low (which is quite often, due to the 5am starts that the job requires. I have been told I am 'pure evil' before 8.30am) then after 5 minutes with the children, their beaming faces, jumpers covered in mashed potato and grazes on their noses, I am beaming myself. I feel like I'm learning a lot from them- they are so open to new things, skipping fearlessly into the unknown, something that oftens renders me nervous.

My UK tour is an example of this. It starts in 26 days (gulp) and although I am full of excitement, I also feel a level of apprehension. It's just that I don't know what to expect from 'being on the road.' Will I get homesick? Will I turn into Spinal Tap? Will I live exclusively on Ginsters pasties for 4 months, like Alan Partridge? The possibilities are endless.

One thing I will miss is the allotment. That has been an unexpected surprise treat for the Spring. With a little bit of work whenever we can find a moment, the 4 of us have turned what looked like a slightly rubbish lawn into a plot just ready to get going.

Our kitchen is full of little seedlings, starting to peep their green heads out of the soil. My main worry is that I am going to accidentally spray them with kitchen cleaner like I did last year, but I am being much more careful this time. It turns out that courgette plants aren't massively keen on being covered in citrus multi purpose spray.

Our bathroom is full of potatoes, and if I'm honest, I can't remember why. I know we are waiting for something to happen. It could have happened already, but I wouldn't know if had as I can't remember what I'm looking out for. Chips?

This afternoon I am heading to that beautiful patch of peacefulness. It turns out that our little spot is the calm I've been looking for. I have to find a way to take a little bit of it away with me on tour.

A potato, perhaps?

the Dual Carriageway, the Treacle Tart and the Glorious New Song

Good morning from my sunny little corner- the sun is beaming in through the door to the garden, the cat is scampering/prancing/jumping like a mental and I have a spring in my step (well I would if I was walking around, but that makes typing difficult)

There are several reasons for my chirpy mood.

a) It is sunny
b)I have discovered some new music recently and am in that first flush of love for a song that I cannot get to the end of without starting it again, like a child watching a Disney film.
c) I spent the entire weekend in a dressing gown.

Let me elaborate (I know that's what you wanted, I could sense it)

Actually, there isn't much elaborating to do on point a)- I think it's pretty standard for sunshine to make people happy. Unless, of course, there is a huge life threatening drought. That doesn't seem to be the case here

b) The song that is making my heart sing is this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wsdC74-t2s

I was introduced to this album last night and woke up thinking about it. I will be taking this beautiful sound with me wherever I go today. ( I will take my headphones out when talking to people, but only if I think they are interesting enough to get my full attention. Otherwise they are staying IN) I love the first day of having found a new song-it feels like an exciting new relationship that you want to tell everyone about. I sometimes like to pretend I'm in a film when going about my daily business and enjoy choosing appropriate music for varying levels of emotional situations (Fleetwood Mac when running for a bus, for example)

Today's film will be a lovely one.

c) My weekend in a dressing gown was not due to me spending 2 days in some sort of sex nest. My husband was not involved at all. In fact, he was very understanding of the whole thing.

Two years ago, on my hen do (I hate the word 'do' in reference to a party, but I am going to bare it for the purposes of this sentence) I headed to Crawley for the weekend with 14 of my favourite people. Forget Prague, forget Paris, forget Blackpool-Crawley, my friends, is where the COOLIES hang out. And the coolies wear DRESSING GOWNS.

We spent the weekend in a wooden lodge somewhere leafy and wonderful just outside of Crawley. There is a golf course, there is a health club, there are some wonderful little lodges made out of wood that have underfloor heating. Three days were spent wearing dressing gowns, eating crisps and laughing til we cried at my cousin Catherine trying to hum the baseline from 'Good Vibrations.'

This time it was very similar.

There was four us returning to the lodges-we were four women desperate for a break. It's often so easy to forget the need for planning some time in to just 'be.' I spend so much time fitting one thing in to another in my schedule, ending up in a neverending game of Diary Tetris. This weekend was exactly what I needed.

All three days involved wearing elasticated waistband 'leisure trousers' until roughly 7pm, then changing in pyjamas. You'd be right in thinking that those two outfits are basically the same.

The highlight for me was the discovery of a present in silver paper, hidden in my luggage by my husband. What is it? I thought. Some treats for dinner? A little love note?

Wrong.

As if I wasn't already sure enough that I had married the right person, I opened the parcel to find a very small red and blue silky cape. My awesome husband had guessed, quite rightly, that the thing missing in my life is the finishing touches to my new Superman pyjamas.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a woman in her 30s wearing pyjamas designed for a child.

And a CAPE.

It goes without saying that my fellow lodge- dwellers set me a selection of superhero tasks to perform whilst in my heroic outfit, although I did find the cape a little snug in the neck area (for 'snug' please read 'slightly strangling.') This was due to the fact that it was designed for a 5 year old. I also find it highly amusing that my husband and I now own the rest of the outfit which he had to buy along with the cape. I have thought about dressing up the cat but I'm not sure she'll enjoy it as much as I would.

When not performing deeds of pyjama based bravery, we spent our time doing exactly what we wanted. Our motto of 'There is no judgement in Crawley' meant that no activity/ lack of activity/ strange choice of snack food/ excessive amount of snack food was frowned upon. Yes we ate treacle tart ALL DAY. But what happens in Crawley stays in Crawley.

Highlights were the face masks that made us look frighteningly like we were recreating the Black and White Minstrel Show, a few rounds of The Humming Game (no Beach Boys this time but there was a wonderful and surprising rendition of various 80s drum solos through the medium of hum) a country ramble that took us over a dual carriage way and through an estate, and the perfect and precious gift of a bit of quiet. I spent a few hours alone, just reading, just being. It was heavenly. The sun shone, the treacle tart seemed neverending, the box of wine made it impossible for us to tell exactly how much we'd actually drunk.

Perfect.

The Leaves, the Giant Fork and the BIG NEWS

So here I am again, squirrelled up in my little study, watching a very grey day amuse itself outside the window. I spent hours clearing up leaves a few weeks ago and somehow, just to spite me, they have all come back. Our patio area once again looks like it has a brown bristly carpet and every time we open the kitchen door, we are attacked by overexcited leaves trying to make a bid for warmth.

The garden is looking pretty much exactly the same as it did when I last blogged. The giant cat toilet remains, although I think the cat is being a little more respectful after we had a 'little word' and the shed still looks like it was built by drunk people with no arms. There is one section of the garden that has a lot of green stuff in it. I say green stuff, but what I basically mean is 'a selection of unidentifiable plants that we don't understand and lots and lots of weeds.' The problem we have is telling what is weed and what is plant. It's a section of the garden we don't spend much time on- the vegetable area tends to get the most focus as, well, let's face it, I'm much more excited about things you can put in an omelette. My instinct with this section of the garden is to dig everything up and start again. I'd like to know what's there, and treat it all well and appropriately. I do feel a little guilty about this, however. It feels oddly like the gardening equivalent of ethnic cleansing. The previous tenants of this house obviously went to a lot of trouble planting all that, and I feel it would be wrong to tear everything out just so I have the satisfaction of being able to say 'LOOK- Look at THAT PLANT. That plant is definitely a HOSTA. And I know that because I PUT IT THERE.'

The BIG NEWS this time is pretty big, actually. It will mean more blogs, it will mean more anecdotes about how we did something wrong and ended up with a selection of freak like vegetables, it will mean more time outside.

That's right my friends, after 3 years on the waiting list, we have got our ALLOTMENT. If you were all here in my house I would now be enthusiastically high fiving you and wooping like a deranged teenage girl, but as you are not (and that's probably a good thing) I will sit quietly here with the lovely knowledge that there is a little patch of land 5 minutes away from our house that is just waiting for us. It's a little patch of stillness in crazy London- backing onto a reservoir and a cemetery (two areas not known for their noise disturbance) and I feel so lucky to have somewhere to head to when everything else all gets a bit much. Like Arthur from Eastenders, I have plans for a little shed where I can read, drink a beer in the summer and put photos up of impressive vegetables we have grown. We are sharing the plot with some friends of ours as life is busy, and our first 'meeting' yesterday was a joy- it involved a trip to the patch to go 'LOOK! Isn't this AWESOME' and a 'Vegetable Planning Meeting' (hereafter referred to as a VPM) which involved a big piece of paper and some massive pens. We have plans for a Fruit Corner, an Underground Corner, an Overground Corner and a 'Nearly Courgette' corner. I have managed to get over my disappointment that only one of those corners is named after a yoghurt.

The allotment was very quiet yesterday and we were the only people there, overexcitedly dividing our sections with green string and proudly placing the miniature scarecrow that I got from my mum in the post. If our patch is attacked by any miniature birds, they are going to freak OUT.

I'm looking forward to meeting more members of the allotment's community. The only person I've met so far was three years ago, when we initially put our names down on the waiting list. He was a lovely elderly man who was covered in bugs and smelled intensely of mint. He also turned out to be a local DJ and did us a rather terrifying Kenneth Williams impression for no apparent reason. If everyone is as lovely as he was, we are in for a treat.

I have a bit of time to myself this week so I plan on heading down there with a big fork (I love holding those as I like to pretend I'm a Borrower) to turn over the ground and get it ready for the new seeds. We haven't got a shed yet so if it rains, I am just going to carry on. Or, sit in the toilet block with a book and a flask.

It doesn't get more exciting than this.

The Lab Coats, The Jungle and the First Adventure of the Year.

Well, whether it's actually the time for it, or whether massive global warming is beginning to have a horrific effect on the weather, Spring seems to be ever so slightly sprung. I have been waiting patiently and excitedly for daffodils to appear in the garden, and then, realising that we didn't actually plant any, have made a mental note to do that next year, to avoid disappointment.

In other garden news, we have cleared the vegetable patch in preparation for the new seeds for 2011. We have dug up the dried up, frozen remains of the vegetables from last year and left a beautiful, clear space for new life, accidentally creating what can only be described as a 'Massive Cat Toilet.' As I am not physically capable of being in the garden all day and all night, discouraging the cat from totally ruining all our hard work, I have had a stern word with her, and vowed to get the new seeds in soon. It's been exciting to think about what we might grow this year. Last year we went a bit planting-mental, saying 'AH HAHA HA gardening magazines, you don't know WHAT you're talking about- leaving space for things to grow? Oh no no no no..

After watching our garden turn into an overgrown vegetable jungle, with runner beans fighting with beetroot for survival, and a pumpkin that was so desperate for some space it grew half way across the lawn, we have learned our lesson. This year, my friends, we are going for quality. Last year we followed the 'get as many seeds into the ground as we can physically manage' tactic. This year we will be much more selective.

In camping news, Joni the beautiful orange campervan had her first adventure of 2011 yesterday. She has spent the winter months snuggled up in her winter anorak and now her sunshine orange glow is once more beaming onto the patch of road outside our house. She took a few goes to start (wouldn't you if you'd been standing still with an anorak on for 3 months?) then ran like a dream on her first trip out

I would like to tell you that her first adventure was to a leafy glade somewhere wonderfully peaceful, where we parked next to a mountain stream and waited for wildlife to dance for us and flowers to grow up her sides.

It wasn't. It was to pick up 15 labcoats from Surrey Quays.

Don't ask.

I have not yet broken to her that she is going on a UK tour from the 30th April onwards but if she is half as excited as I am, she will be tooting her horn with glee. I sat in her outside the house yesterday as it went dark, feeling a rush of anticipation for the months to come- we will be travelling as far north as Glasgow, as far south as Plymouth, and I can't wait to meet the many people who will be climbing through her doors.

Look out Britain- Joni's going on the road..

The Collie Dog, the Cathedral and the 17 books.

It's been a little while again hasn't it. This has been for 2 reasons.

a) Last week I booked myself up so much that I frequently found myself praying for both the cloning process and teleportation to be key parts of my life. ( I wished for this in particular on Thursday evening when I got in from work at 12.30am and had to get up again at 5am-there was a moment of 'there's clearly been some horrible mistake' when the alarm went off, but it turned out that the only mistake was me assuming I was some sort of super-human robot when booking in work)

b) The Boy and I went on a little holiday. Yes, an ACTUAL HOLIDAY. To a REAL FOREIGN COUNTRY.

Yes, that's right. We went to Wales.

We last went to Wales after our wedding in April 2009, disappearing for a week to a little cottage with an open fire and dangerously low doorframes to spend time sitting under a blanket eating cheese and watching The West Wing. (because, my friends, we know how to PARTY)

This trip was relatively similar. We rented a little cottage in St David's, Britain's smallest city. It earned this title as it is very small and has a MASSIVE cathedral. Each time we went into the 'city' we were the only 2 people there. We laughed at the man in the surf shop who announced to Tom that the sale had now finished, despite there being approximately 70 enormous red SALE signs hanging over our heads, we sat mesmerised and emotional by the choral rehearsal in the cathedral, and never stopped being bemused by the sandwich shop that closed for lunch. It was a lovely place, the only lowlight being the supermarket, which felt suspiciously like an American supermarket featured in one of those films about serial killers.

The cottage was a little corner of rural heaven- no phone reception, no internet, and lovely plates. There is nothing better than an evening spent in front of an open fire with a book. We had plenty of choice in the book department as, in typical holiday style, we brought an overwhelming amount with us. It was unlikely we'd ever actually get through 17 books in 6 days, but it was good to have the option.

A lovely holiday highlight was the furry black and white visitor who popped her head in every morning to greet us. Don't be alarmed- this wasn't a local, dressed in a panda suit, but a gentle and clever collie dog called Jess. Well, we spent the week calling her Jess- it turned out that her name was entirely different and we'd possibly spent several days massively confusing her. There was a lot of stick throwing involved in our relationship- kindling from the fire was used until chewed to pieces, then one day she turned up with what can only be described as half a tree, and the stakes were really raised.

I returned to London feeling lighter than before (I am obviously speaking metaphorically- the amount of food I consumed during that week is something I wouldn't be happy putting online) and since getting back, I have been searching for that stillness, that silence of having a few hours just being in one place, reading. It's something I strive for but often fail at. Life (and facebook) often get in the way and it's hard to take the time just to do nothing at all.

So this is resolution for 2011. To sometimes do nothing. Nothing at all.

Ooh, and buy some new plates.