So, here I am again, in my little corner of the study. The doors to the garden are NOT open today as it is unneccessarily chilly. I am being entertained by 2 things:
a) showtunes (currently on Chess- how I love Elaine Paige when I can't see her face)
b) the cat, who is chasing something invisible to everyone other than her and keeps leaping inexplicably into the air then looking disgruntled. Earlier she was eating some paper. She then moved on to tinfoil, at which point I intervened.
Through the window to the garden I can see the scarlet leaves of a *insert name of tree here* tree which is turning out to be very beautiful in autumn. I know I should know the names of things in the garden but I am giving myself small, manageable goals when it comes to that skill. I have spent the last few months focusing on vegetables. (I've done other things as well, I haven't just been sitting in the garden, staring intently at them)
In Vegetable World (that sounds like the best theme park EVER) the garden is looking a little less exciting as it was a few months ago. This is because the season changed (ah, nature) and also because we ate everything. We also assumed that as soon as it's not 30 degrees, tomatoes don't need water any more. This is NOT TRUE. Needless to say, our tomato plants now look like are dressed as dead zombie tomato plants, all ready for a late Halloween party. Imagine what tomato plants would look like if Tim Burton designed them. Welcome to our garden.
I have to admit that I have no idea what to do with any of our vegetables now we've eaten all the good bits. Do we dig them up? Do we leave them and wait for them to grow new good bits? I think a little bit of consultation with Mr Titchmarsh may be in order.
The pumpkins were particularly emotional to pick. We grew a great big one and a little one. They weren't orange, but a lovely deep yellow, the colour of the campervan. I chose to see this as a wonderful coincidence rather than seeing it as them not being ready yet. Unfortunately, we ate them the wrong way round. We picked the little one when we had 6 people round for lunch, resulting in everyone having ONE AND ONLY ONE tiny cube of pumpkin each, then the massive great big one when we had ONE person round for dinner, resulting in far too much pumpkin, far more than any of us could manage without feeling physically uncomfortable.
We will learn next year. That is, if we get any pumpkins next year. I really have no idea what happens now.
In campervan world, Joni is still bringing much needed sunshine to our street. The show will be going on tour in the Spring/Summer next year (when we may or may not have vegetables again) and we are all very excited. Well, I'm not sure that the cat is excited. When we came back from Edinburgh, it took her over a week to forgive us for going away and even then it was done with a look of 'well, we can all PRETEND that it didn't happen, but I have the RSPCA on speed dial..)
I can't wait to take Joni on the road. We are going to update the story that I tell and it will reflect the months between Edinburgh and the current day. Lots of adventures have been had and there are many more to be had. It's approaching the time of year when VWs don't like the weather (we learned that the hard way last year with an 11 hour journey between Edinburgh and Preston) so we know now that she needs to hide under a blanket until the Spring. What a wonderful idea.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Monday, 4 October 2010
The Rain, the Punch and the Parade
This weekend, Tom and I tried something new. We were, I admit, a little nervous about it. Neither of us knew how it would go, we felt a mix of adrenalin and nerves, but both suspected that as soon as we'd done it once, we would want to do it a lot more.
Yes, you've guessed it. This weekend we went on our first VW adventure with the London Thames Valley VW club.
For the last few months, Joni has been a huge focus in our lives. She is the only campervan on our street, lighting it up with a little burst of orangey sunshine, she had an incredibly exciting time in Edinburgh, welcoming 295 people through her doors, then she covered hundreds of miles around the beautiful Highlands, providing us with a lovely warm nest in which to sleep in the middle of nature, protecting us from both murderers and panthers. (NB- she did not protect us from midges, but that is only because they are basically evil) This weekend was the first time she would spend a significant amount with other campervans. It felt a bit like a beauty contest for children, but this time the children were massive, and on the motorway. The event in question was the Brighton Breeze, an annual event where 750 aircooled campervans drive in convoy from London to Brighton, then park up on the seafront, looking pretty and causing massive congestion problems. We were EXCITED.
On Friday night, the night before the big event, we planned to meet a few other members of the LTV (London Thames Valley, darling) club at a campsite called WoWo which is about a 40 minute drive out of London. As always, Tom and I left home slightly later than expected. This was mainly due to us dithering about and making sure we had the right books to take away with us, despite the knowledge that we would have absolutely no time to do any reading over the weekend. Now we have bookshelves in Joni, it would be wrong not to fill them up. Did I NEED to take a book of Victoria Wood scripts away with me? No. Did the very presence of that book somehow make me feel like Joni is a more well rounded campervan with a fundamental knowledge of the subtle nuances of northern comedy? Of course.
We had spoken to other members of the club on the forum, all of us communicating through the guises of our forum names. Tom, known for his trend of thinking outside of the box, chose a cryptic name for us, that was close to impossible for strangers to decipher. Our name: TomandLaura.
Without going into lots of emotional detail about the people that we met, which would be easy to do, everyone was ace. They made us feel welcome, they told us stories of past events, they greeted Joni with waves and with smiles, and they admired the fact that she has a special area for keeping wellies.
The Saturday was a very lovely day indeed, despite it being one of the wettest days I've ever seen in Brighton. We didn't want to admit to other members of the club that this was almost definitely our fault, that we attract extreme weather wherever we go, and that had we decided to stay at home and just read books at home, it would probably have been a glorious day, instead of something out of a Channel Five 'When Camping Goes Bad' documentary. It wasn't, however, bad in the slightest. It was brilliant. The sight of 750 gorgeous shiny campervans all lined up in a big wet parade was a total treat. Each one of them told a story and each of the owners was beaming, whilst wearing some sort of heavy duty waterproof jacket. Us VW owners know how to do this PROPERLY.
The evening event took place up at Brighton Racecourse, where we all camped, laughed at the fact that it was so foggy we couldn't actually see any of the other vehicles, then danced the night away to a Madness tribute band. After coming to terms with the fact that it is impossible to look demure whilst dancing to 'Baggy Trousers,' we had a very lovely evening. Highlights of the night were the sight of people wearing wellies, sitting on camping chairs and helping themselves to drinks out of their own coolboxes, whilst sitting in what can only be described as a massive Working Mens Club, a punch that contained so much alcohol I was worried about people smoking near it, and a poodle who was wearing a shellsuit with no irony whatsoever.
When it came to hometime on Sunday morning, we pulled away from our new friends with a sense of something that was just beginning. We also had massive hangovers, but chose not to focus on that. The best part of the weekend was spending time with people who know exactly what it's like to own a car that, at any point, may stop. That is surely part of the adventure- we all know that we could give it all up and get a 'normal car'- one that will drive from A to B without worry. But that's why we do it- it's the adventure that counts. An event from the weekend that sums this up was the awful experience of seeing the engine of a Beetle owned by a member of our group, go up in flames. It was a horrible few moments when time seemed to stand still, and we all felt our hearts wrench as it became harder to extinguish the flames. We all ran from our vehicles, and even when the fire was out, nobody could quite believe what had happened. I have no doubt that the beautiful Beetle will be back on the road though, soon, as its owners have such passion for it. There is a real sense of support that comes with being a member of the VW community. People know what it's like to see or hear something go wrong with their beloved bus, van or car. And it's always good to know that there will be someone else on the road, probably wearing a waterproof jacket, who will stop and offer their help.
Who wants to go straight from A to B, when you could go on a detour and find a poodle wearing a shellsuit...
Yes, you've guessed it. This weekend we went on our first VW adventure with the London Thames Valley VW club.
For the last few months, Joni has been a huge focus in our lives. She is the only campervan on our street, lighting it up with a little burst of orangey sunshine, she had an incredibly exciting time in Edinburgh, welcoming 295 people through her doors, then she covered hundreds of miles around the beautiful Highlands, providing us with a lovely warm nest in which to sleep in the middle of nature, protecting us from both murderers and panthers. (NB- she did not protect us from midges, but that is only because they are basically evil) This weekend was the first time she would spend a significant amount with other campervans. It felt a bit like a beauty contest for children, but this time the children were massive, and on the motorway. The event in question was the Brighton Breeze, an annual event where 750 aircooled campervans drive in convoy from London to Brighton, then park up on the seafront, looking pretty and causing massive congestion problems. We were EXCITED.
On Friday night, the night before the big event, we planned to meet a few other members of the LTV (London Thames Valley, darling) club at a campsite called WoWo which is about a 40 minute drive out of London. As always, Tom and I left home slightly later than expected. This was mainly due to us dithering about and making sure we had the right books to take away with us, despite the knowledge that we would have absolutely no time to do any reading over the weekend. Now we have bookshelves in Joni, it would be wrong not to fill them up. Did I NEED to take a book of Victoria Wood scripts away with me? No. Did the very presence of that book somehow make me feel like Joni is a more well rounded campervan with a fundamental knowledge of the subtle nuances of northern comedy? Of course.
We had spoken to other members of the club on the forum, all of us communicating through the guises of our forum names. Tom, known for his trend of thinking outside of the box, chose a cryptic name for us, that was close to impossible for strangers to decipher. Our name: TomandLaura.
Without going into lots of emotional detail about the people that we met, which would be easy to do, everyone was ace. They made us feel welcome, they told us stories of past events, they greeted Joni with waves and with smiles, and they admired the fact that she has a special area for keeping wellies.
The Saturday was a very lovely day indeed, despite it being one of the wettest days I've ever seen in Brighton. We didn't want to admit to other members of the club that this was almost definitely our fault, that we attract extreme weather wherever we go, and that had we decided to stay at home and just read books at home, it would probably have been a glorious day, instead of something out of a Channel Five 'When Camping Goes Bad' documentary. It wasn't, however, bad in the slightest. It was brilliant. The sight of 750 gorgeous shiny campervans all lined up in a big wet parade was a total treat. Each one of them told a story and each of the owners was beaming, whilst wearing some sort of heavy duty waterproof jacket. Us VW owners know how to do this PROPERLY.
The evening event took place up at Brighton Racecourse, where we all camped, laughed at the fact that it was so foggy we couldn't actually see any of the other vehicles, then danced the night away to a Madness tribute band. After coming to terms with the fact that it is impossible to look demure whilst dancing to 'Baggy Trousers,' we had a very lovely evening. Highlights of the night were the sight of people wearing wellies, sitting on camping chairs and helping themselves to drinks out of their own coolboxes, whilst sitting in what can only be described as a massive Working Mens Club, a punch that contained so much alcohol I was worried about people smoking near it, and a poodle who was wearing a shellsuit with no irony whatsoever.
When it came to hometime on Sunday morning, we pulled away from our new friends with a sense of something that was just beginning. We also had massive hangovers, but chose not to focus on that. The best part of the weekend was spending time with people who know exactly what it's like to own a car that, at any point, may stop. That is surely part of the adventure- we all know that we could give it all up and get a 'normal car'- one that will drive from A to B without worry. But that's why we do it- it's the adventure that counts. An event from the weekend that sums this up was the awful experience of seeing the engine of a Beetle owned by a member of our group, go up in flames. It was a horrible few moments when time seemed to stand still, and we all felt our hearts wrench as it became harder to extinguish the flames. We all ran from our vehicles, and even when the fire was out, nobody could quite believe what had happened. I have no doubt that the beautiful Beetle will be back on the road though, soon, as its owners have such passion for it. There is a real sense of support that comes with being a member of the VW community. People know what it's like to see or hear something go wrong with their beloved bus, van or car. And it's always good to know that there will be someone else on the road, probably wearing a waterproof jacket, who will stop and offer their help.
Who wants to go straight from A to B, when you could go on a detour and find a poodle wearing a shellsuit...
Friday, 1 October 2010
A Macventure PART TWO
All I really did in my last post was to tell you about our fears of wild camping. That was very negative of me, wasn't it. Luckily, we didn't get mauled to death by an escaped panther or battered to a pulp by an axe murderer. We did get some pretty nasty midge bites, but good old Tom took most of the hit, much like a fleshy human shield. It turns out that midges are extremely clever and not only will they find the TINIEST of teeny TINY holes in insect-proof window netting stuff (not the official title for that, but I have no idea what it's actually called) but they will then find a comfortable little spot within your campervan, hang out there for over a week and continue to feast on your wrists/ankles/cheeks until you find yourself screaming WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME in the middle of the night.
'Luckily' (you'll see why I have included the ' ' in a moment) Tom managed to find an incredible contraption in Boots before we left, which looks a bit like an asthma inhaler, but administers what can only be described as an electric shock to the midge or mosquito bite. It makes a funny snapping noise and is the equivalent of giving your bite a smack so it hurts a little bit for a moment then stops itching. I was understandably reluctant to use this, and chose instead to stick with the traditional system of getting cranky and rubbing the bite against a bit of velcro or across a pair of corduroy trousers until it gets really painful. Worryingly, Tom found that electrocuting a particular bite on the inside of his arm made his hand spasm. Even more worryingly, he seemed to be really enjoying himself, and had a proper big giggle every time it happened. You have to find your own fun in the wilderness. Tom's fun involved being bitten by a hungry Scottish insect, then electrocuting himself with a device available from a high street chemist.
Over the course of 8 days, we drove from Edinburgh, up to the most north-westerly point of the UK, then back again. I can honestly say that the Highlands are the most beautiful part of the world- with incredibly diverse landscapes, sights, hidden treats and surprises. One moment we were driving along the bluest of lochs, the sky a bright turquoise, the next we were engulfed in fog, not able to see 2 metres infront of us. The tip to drive up the south side of Loch Ness was a great piece of advice- it's a really gorgeous road, with lots of places to stop and spot the monster. We didn't see him, although Tom did confess to me that he has felt, from an early age, that he is going to be the one that does.
Wild camping was a learning experience, and I can truly say that weeing in a bucket became surprisingly mundane after the first two or three times. (I should point out that the bucket just cuts down on unwanted prickling from heather/thistles, and was not in any way of storing waste) There is something very primal about washing your hair in a carpark and a rite of passage I'm glad I have now experienced. Once we'd got over the fear of being approached by people asking us to move on, it became an adventure looking for somewhere to park up and spend the night, and each time we started to panic as it got dark, a perfect place would present itself and welcome us in. We stayed by the foot of Glen Coe, in a carpark on the edge of the sea, in a meadow-like field in a beautiful little fishermans village on the east coast, and in a national park that provided the beautiful backdrop in Monarch of the Glen.
One low point was a night spent on the edge of a cliff in Durness where we experienced the worst winds they had had for over 20 years. Once again, this could only really happen to the Franklands, and as we sat wide awake in Joni, not sleeping a wink, trying to drink from a miniature bottle of port, which turned out to be over 3 years out of date, therefore making us both feel queasy, it was ALMOST funny.
It's a shame that wild camping is not legal in England, although thinking about it more, there are fewer places where it would actually work. There is a lot more space in the Highlands, bigger areas of unadulterated nature. At first we were taken aback by the silence whenever we stopped (silence is not an option when we are driving- Joni's engine is working beautifully now but sneaking up on anyone without them hearing us would be like trying to smuggle King Kong silently through a cymbal factory.) The contrast of her whirring engine and the perfect, clear silence of an afternoon tea stop was one of the best bits of the journey. After the giddy madness of Edinburgh, being surrounded by peace and quiet was something we never took for granted.
The three of us can't wait to go back...
'Luckily' (you'll see why I have included the ' ' in a moment) Tom managed to find an incredible contraption in Boots before we left, which looks a bit like an asthma inhaler, but administers what can only be described as an electric shock to the midge or mosquito bite. It makes a funny snapping noise and is the equivalent of giving your bite a smack so it hurts a little bit for a moment then stops itching. I was understandably reluctant to use this, and chose instead to stick with the traditional system of getting cranky and rubbing the bite against a bit of velcro or across a pair of corduroy trousers until it gets really painful. Worryingly, Tom found that electrocuting a particular bite on the inside of his arm made his hand spasm. Even more worryingly, he seemed to be really enjoying himself, and had a proper big giggle every time it happened. You have to find your own fun in the wilderness. Tom's fun involved being bitten by a hungry Scottish insect, then electrocuting himself with a device available from a high street chemist.
Over the course of 8 days, we drove from Edinburgh, up to the most north-westerly point of the UK, then back again. I can honestly say that the Highlands are the most beautiful part of the world- with incredibly diverse landscapes, sights, hidden treats and surprises. One moment we were driving along the bluest of lochs, the sky a bright turquoise, the next we were engulfed in fog, not able to see 2 metres infront of us. The tip to drive up the south side of Loch Ness was a great piece of advice- it's a really gorgeous road, with lots of places to stop and spot the monster. We didn't see him, although Tom did confess to me that he has felt, from an early age, that he is going to be the one that does.
Wild camping was a learning experience, and I can truly say that weeing in a bucket became surprisingly mundane after the first two or three times. (I should point out that the bucket just cuts down on unwanted prickling from heather/thistles, and was not in any way of storing waste) There is something very primal about washing your hair in a carpark and a rite of passage I'm glad I have now experienced. Once we'd got over the fear of being approached by people asking us to move on, it became an adventure looking for somewhere to park up and spend the night, and each time we started to panic as it got dark, a perfect place would present itself and welcome us in. We stayed by the foot of Glen Coe, in a carpark on the edge of the sea, in a meadow-like field in a beautiful little fishermans village on the east coast, and in a national park that provided the beautiful backdrop in Monarch of the Glen.
One low point was a night spent on the edge of a cliff in Durness where we experienced the worst winds they had had for over 20 years. Once again, this could only really happen to the Franklands, and as we sat wide awake in Joni, not sleeping a wink, trying to drink from a miniature bottle of port, which turned out to be over 3 years out of date, therefore making us both feel queasy, it was ALMOST funny.
It's a shame that wild camping is not legal in England, although thinking about it more, there are fewer places where it would actually work. There is a lot more space in the Highlands, bigger areas of unadulterated nature. At first we were taken aback by the silence whenever we stopped (silence is not an option when we are driving- Joni's engine is working beautifully now but sneaking up on anyone without them hearing us would be like trying to smuggle King Kong silently through a cymbal factory.) The contrast of her whirring engine and the perfect, clear silence of an afternoon tea stop was one of the best bits of the journey. After the giddy madness of Edinburgh, being surrounded by peace and quiet was something we never took for granted.
The three of us can't wait to go back...
Monday, 27 September 2010
A Macventure (see what I did there) PART ONE
Goodness me, this is a LOT later than I had expected. Since getting back from our jaunt around the Highlands, I have been swept up in a whirlwind of trying to figure out what my life is when it isn't doing 3 shows a day in Joni. This has involved an upsetting amount of admin, and, more worryingly, doing work that isn't that much fun.
I have been wanting to write about our Northern Adventure (so good I gave it capital letters) for a while but only today have I had a nice, quiet spot by the window, a cup of tea and a few hours free. I have scones to make today, but this feels more important, just for now.
The most exciting and daunting part of our adventure was the prospect of wild camping. In Scotland, it is legal to park up and camp by a mountain, or a loch, or any other kind of beautiful Scottish wonderfulness. You don't have to drive around in the dark, looking for a campsite that inevitably turns out to be slightly less nice than real nature and costs £28 for the pleasure of having a toilet block that plays Radio 2 all night. (*coughCARAVAN CLUB cough*)
This was a pretty exciting prospect, but also a slightly unnerving one, as it meant that we were completely in charge of our own nighttime destiny. If you have been following my blog from the beginning, you will know that Tom and I are not known for our organisational skills, especially when it comes to finding places. Any places at all.
During a conversation we had whilst heading north into the wilderness, it was revealed that Tom and I had 3 main fears regarding wild camping. These fears, in no particular order were:
a) midges
b) murderers
c) panthers
Now, let me explain this list. The first was Tom's fear, triggered by absolutely EVERYBODY we spoke to about the Highlands saying 'watch out for the midges, they will literally eat you alive.'
Personally, I have developed a no-fail system of avoiding midge and mosquito bites. It involves standing near Tom as they cannot get enough of that tasty Frankland morsel, but this did not seem to pacify Tom at all.
The second fear- murderers- was mainly mine. Thinking logically about it, the vast majority of murderers tend to crop up in urban areas and not loiter in the more uninhabited sections of northern Scotland, ready to pounce on tired Festival performers, but you can never be too careful. The last thing we wanted was for one of us to get attacked by an axe murderer just as we were getting really stuck in to a really meaty game of backgammon.
The third fear- panthers- was not something we had originally considered when planning our holiday. This brand new fear was triggered by a good friend of mine choosing a phone catch-up in a service station to announce the fact that there was in fact a panther on the loose in the Highlands. It seems to me that there is always some sort of wildcat on the loose at any given time, and that zoos should really learn to lock things, but as I am fundamentally against zoos, I was pleased that the little scamp was probably having a whale of a time, chasing sheep, hiding behind tufts of heather, pretending to be a rock, that sort of thing. It did, however, mean we were both slightly nervous about being ripped from the campervan then being mauled to death whilst having an afternoon nap or early evening game of Travel Scrabble. In this case, however, my fears were eased by the knowledge that the massive amount of midge repellent that Tom had applied was probably potent enough to deter significantly larger pests. Chances are, a panther would be knocked out before getting anywhere nearer than 20 metres. Job done.
As well as these 3 main fears, I also had several questions that were playing on my mind when it came to braving unknown countryside without the safety of a campsite at the end of a long day. These questions were
a) will we find somewhere to camp that is nice? (and safe from panthers/murderers/bloodthirsty midges)
b)are we REALLY allowed to just park wherever we like?
c) will Tom still love me once he has seen me wee in a bucket?
Luckily, the answer to all three of these questions was 'yes.'
I have been wanting to write about our Northern Adventure (so good I gave it capital letters) for a while but only today have I had a nice, quiet spot by the window, a cup of tea and a few hours free. I have scones to make today, but this feels more important, just for now.
The most exciting and daunting part of our adventure was the prospect of wild camping. In Scotland, it is legal to park up and camp by a mountain, or a loch, or any other kind of beautiful Scottish wonderfulness. You don't have to drive around in the dark, looking for a campsite that inevitably turns out to be slightly less nice than real nature and costs £28 for the pleasure of having a toilet block that plays Radio 2 all night. (*coughCARAVAN CLUB cough*)
This was a pretty exciting prospect, but also a slightly unnerving one, as it meant that we were completely in charge of our own nighttime destiny. If you have been following my blog from the beginning, you will know that Tom and I are not known for our organisational skills, especially when it comes to finding places. Any places at all.
During a conversation we had whilst heading north into the wilderness, it was revealed that Tom and I had 3 main fears regarding wild camping. These fears, in no particular order were:
a) midges
b) murderers
c) panthers
Now, let me explain this list. The first was Tom's fear, triggered by absolutely EVERYBODY we spoke to about the Highlands saying 'watch out for the midges, they will literally eat you alive.'
Personally, I have developed a no-fail system of avoiding midge and mosquito bites. It involves standing near Tom as they cannot get enough of that tasty Frankland morsel, but this did not seem to pacify Tom at all.
The second fear- murderers- was mainly mine. Thinking logically about it, the vast majority of murderers tend to crop up in urban areas and not loiter in the more uninhabited sections of northern Scotland, ready to pounce on tired Festival performers, but you can never be too careful. The last thing we wanted was for one of us to get attacked by an axe murderer just as we were getting really stuck in to a really meaty game of backgammon.
The third fear- panthers- was not something we had originally considered when planning our holiday. This brand new fear was triggered by a good friend of mine choosing a phone catch-up in a service station to announce the fact that there was in fact a panther on the loose in the Highlands. It seems to me that there is always some sort of wildcat on the loose at any given time, and that zoos should really learn to lock things, but as I am fundamentally against zoos, I was pleased that the little scamp was probably having a whale of a time, chasing sheep, hiding behind tufts of heather, pretending to be a rock, that sort of thing. It did, however, mean we were both slightly nervous about being ripped from the campervan then being mauled to death whilst having an afternoon nap or early evening game of Travel Scrabble. In this case, however, my fears were eased by the knowledge that the massive amount of midge repellent that Tom had applied was probably potent enough to deter significantly larger pests. Chances are, a panther would be knocked out before getting anywhere nearer than 20 metres. Job done.
As well as these 3 main fears, I also had several questions that were playing on my mind when it came to braving unknown countryside without the safety of a campsite at the end of a long day. These questions were
a) will we find somewhere to camp that is nice? (and safe from panthers/murderers/bloodthirsty midges)
b)are we REALLY allowed to just park wherever we like?
c) will Tom still love me once he has seen me wee in a bucket?
Luckily, the answer to all three of these questions was 'yes.'
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Into the Wild...
And so, it's all done. The Festival is over. I am physically and mentally broken, but so very happy.
It's all been a bit of a whirlwind. 295 people have now seen my show- I had my last one yesterday at 1pm and managed to cry quite a lot at the end. I hope the audience knew that I was being weepy because it was my final show, and not that I manage to force tears out at the end of every performance. That would have made for a very draining month. After 59 shows in 26 days, I felt a mix of relief, adrenalin, joy, tears, exhilaration and exhaustion.
We were not allowed to leave the Pleasance Courtyard until 11.30pm because of site rules and so after the 1pm show, we felt in suspended in a strange state of waiting.. We had to load Joni up with all our stuff (us Franklands are not known for our skill of travelling light- our packing for a camping holiday involves a ukelele, at least 12 books and an 8ft surfboard.
At 11.30pm, we pulled away from our little corner of the Courtyard- we beeped the horn at the few people who were still there (incidentally, one of those people turned out to be Tim Vine) and we felt so proud of Joni. The triumphant departure was marred slightly when we had to stop and move some bins so we could get out without taking the wing mirrors off, but then we were DEFINITELY OFF, forging our way over the cobbles and out of the Courtyard Archway, headed for the unknown (well, our friend's house in Port Seton, but I was being poignantly metaphorical)
And here we are now in Port Seton, in a beautiful fisherman's cottage, getting Joni ready for her trip up to the Highlands. We are heading straight North, up to the very top, where I can't wait for 2 weeks of nothing- just beautiful peace and quiet, sea air and using Joni as a proper campervan once more. She has worked so hard over the last month, supporting me through my shows, staying sturdy and beautiful in the middle of the Pleasance, and welcoming all those lovely people in through her sliding door. I can't wait to go to sleep in her again and cook bacon on the stove in the morning. It's my birthday while we're away and I can't think of a nicer way to spend it.
I will update this when I get back, as I am turning my phone and computer well and truly OFF as from now. We are going to be wild camping (which is legal in Scotland, but not England) and so I apologise to anyone who sees me as soon as I get back. I am likely to look a bit like I've gone feral. Who knows, I may even grow a beard like Tom.
This is Joni and I signing off for now.
Until the next time...Happy Camping
x
It's all been a bit of a whirlwind. 295 people have now seen my show- I had my last one yesterday at 1pm and managed to cry quite a lot at the end. I hope the audience knew that I was being weepy because it was my final show, and not that I manage to force tears out at the end of every performance. That would have made for a very draining month. After 59 shows in 26 days, I felt a mix of relief, adrenalin, joy, tears, exhilaration and exhaustion.
We were not allowed to leave the Pleasance Courtyard until 11.30pm because of site rules and so after the 1pm show, we felt in suspended in a strange state of waiting.. We had to load Joni up with all our stuff (us Franklands are not known for our skill of travelling light- our packing for a camping holiday involves a ukelele, at least 12 books and an 8ft surfboard.
At 11.30pm, we pulled away from our little corner of the Courtyard- we beeped the horn at the few people who were still there (incidentally, one of those people turned out to be Tim Vine) and we felt so proud of Joni. The triumphant departure was marred slightly when we had to stop and move some bins so we could get out without taking the wing mirrors off, but then we were DEFINITELY OFF, forging our way over the cobbles and out of the Courtyard Archway, headed for the unknown (well, our friend's house in Port Seton, but I was being poignantly metaphorical)
And here we are now in Port Seton, in a beautiful fisherman's cottage, getting Joni ready for her trip up to the Highlands. We are heading straight North, up to the very top, where I can't wait for 2 weeks of nothing- just beautiful peace and quiet, sea air and using Joni as a proper campervan once more. She has worked so hard over the last month, supporting me through my shows, staying sturdy and beautiful in the middle of the Pleasance, and welcoming all those lovely people in through her sliding door. I can't wait to go to sleep in her again and cook bacon on the stove in the morning. It's my birthday while we're away and I can't think of a nicer way to spend it.
I will update this when I get back, as I am turning my phone and computer well and truly OFF as from now. We are going to be wild camping (which is legal in Scotland, but not England) and so I apologise to anyone who sees me as soon as I get back. I am likely to look a bit like I've gone feral. Who knows, I may even grow a beard like Tom.
This is Joni and I signing off for now.
Until the next time...Happy Camping
x
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
The Final Week, the Visit from Preston and the City that Never Sleeps
Well, I certainly intended to update my blog much more than this.
But, this in Edinburgh. And in Edinburgh things are not normal, not as expected and almost never involve making sensible decisions.
I cannot believe I am saying this, but I am now 43 shows in. I have met some extremely lovely people, had a very exciting run of reviews, very unexpectedly won a Fringe First and, most importantly, am still having a lovely time. I know this sounds silly to say, but I have had emotional, awful Edinburghs in the past, where I have been both ill and fed up, often at the same time, and I am so pleased to say that neither of those things have happened yet.
I have met people who have surprised me, people who have made me laugh, people who have sung their hearts out and people who have nearly broken my tape recorder. My parents came to see the show on Friday last week and it was so lovely to have them sitting inside Joni. My dad was significantly less adept at operating a tape recorder than expected, and I think my mum felt a bit travel sick, but it was really nice to see them. Sometimes you need to see people from the normal world to remind you that this is all real
We are heading to the Highlands next Tuesday, and I know that Joni will need a holiday as much as Tom and I do. I am excited about the week to come but cannot wait to head out into nature, full of midges and fresh air and waking up to the sound of rain on the roof. Awesome.
Tonight I am going to see some comedy in the Courtyard and I am looking forward to it all. I had a day off yesterday and I need to get my momentum back.
I will write more tomorrow but I wanted to check in as I haven't managed to blog for ages.
Sorry if this all sounds a bit smug today- I'm just having fun. Happy days.
But, this in Edinburgh. And in Edinburgh things are not normal, not as expected and almost never involve making sensible decisions.
I cannot believe I am saying this, but I am now 43 shows in. I have met some extremely lovely people, had a very exciting run of reviews, very unexpectedly won a Fringe First and, most importantly, am still having a lovely time. I know this sounds silly to say, but I have had emotional, awful Edinburghs in the past, where I have been both ill and fed up, often at the same time, and I am so pleased to say that neither of those things have happened yet.
I have met people who have surprised me, people who have made me laugh, people who have sung their hearts out and people who have nearly broken my tape recorder. My parents came to see the show on Friday last week and it was so lovely to have them sitting inside Joni. My dad was significantly less adept at operating a tape recorder than expected, and I think my mum felt a bit travel sick, but it was really nice to see them. Sometimes you need to see people from the normal world to remind you that this is all real
We are heading to the Highlands next Tuesday, and I know that Joni will need a holiday as much as Tom and I do. I am excited about the week to come but cannot wait to head out into nature, full of midges and fresh air and waking up to the sound of rain on the roof. Awesome.
Tonight I am going to see some comedy in the Courtyard and I am looking forward to it all. I had a day off yesterday and I need to get my momentum back.
I will write more tomorrow but I wanted to check in as I haven't managed to blog for ages.
Sorry if this all sounds a bit smug today- I'm just having fun. Happy days.
Friday, 6 August 2010
The Rain, the Lawnmower Museum and the best campervan in the world
Greeting from Scotland!
And so, here we are, in amazing, consuming, beautiful, WET, whirlwind Edinburgh. I am already resigned to the fact that my wellies will now be my permanent shoes, that none of my summer dresses will make it out of my suitcase, and that getting trenchfoot is a very real possibility.
I am already 6 shows in, which feels crazy, as the festival only really started today. I am loving every minute of it. It is such a a treat to be doing what I love every day. Twice.
We have bought a cover for Joni as she is parked in such a prominent part of the Pleasance Courtyard. Tom and I have found it very difficult to sit having a post show cider, watching people leaning on her in a casual manner. I have branded these people 'VTs' - Van Touchers. I feel like getting myself a tuxedo and dark glasses, wrestling the VTs to the ground with the vicious cry of DON'T TOUCH MY VAAAAAAAAN..
But I won't.
Not now we've got the cover.
I am writing a column for Three Weeks newspaper, called 'Last Week in the Van' where I list 10 things that have happened in Joni so far. I'm not going to give it away, but am going to give you a current highlight.
Today, in my show I had a lovely couple called Brian and Sue, who turn out to be the owners of the Lawnmover Museum in Southport. I didn't know that such a place existed, but they proved it to me by giving me a leaflet. Their tag line is 'When the Growing Gets Tough, the Tough Get Mowing.'
This made me love them even more
And so, here we are, in amazing, consuming, beautiful, WET, whirlwind Edinburgh. I am already resigned to the fact that my wellies will now be my permanent shoes, that none of my summer dresses will make it out of my suitcase, and that getting trenchfoot is a very real possibility.
I am already 6 shows in, which feels crazy, as the festival only really started today. I am loving every minute of it. It is such a a treat to be doing what I love every day. Twice.
We have bought a cover for Joni as she is parked in such a prominent part of the Pleasance Courtyard. Tom and I have found it very difficult to sit having a post show cider, watching people leaning on her in a casual manner. I have branded these people 'VTs' - Van Touchers. I feel like getting myself a tuxedo and dark glasses, wrestling the VTs to the ground with the vicious cry of DON'T TOUCH MY VAAAAAAAAN..
But I won't.
Not now we've got the cover.
I am writing a column for Three Weeks newspaper, called 'Last Week in the Van' where I list 10 things that have happened in Joni so far. I'm not going to give it away, but am going to give you a current highlight.
Today, in my show I had a lovely couple called Brian and Sue, who turn out to be the owners of the Lawnmover Museum in Southport. I didn't know that such a place existed, but they proved it to me by giving me a leaflet. Their tag line is 'When the Growing Gets Tough, the Tough Get Mowing.'
This made me love them even more
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
