Well now, this is rather overdue isn't it.
If it's any consolation, I am writing this blog in my head pretty much all the time, the only problem comes when the internet in the places I'm staying costs more than the accommodation itself. Now, I know you can't read the blog from inside my head (that's a VERY good thing, believe me) but, trust me, it was HILARIOUS.
So, I've now been on tour for just over a month and would like to report that:
a) I am still alive (I think this is massively due to the high strength vitamin C I have been taking)
b) Joni the campervan is still alive (although she has given us a couple of scares)
c) I am still loving every second of it.
So far on our travels, we have been as far north as Paisley and as far south as Devon. Joni has been parked by the sea, by a gorgeous loch, and by some wheelie bins. Audiences have been, in equal measure, wonderful, kind, full of laughter, bonkers, unpredictable, baffled and surprised.
Today I am at home, in our little flat, squirrelled up in my little seat by the garden window. The cat is trying to get my attention to congratulate her on the killing of a dried leaf she has proudly brought in, and the sun is shining. I've been home since Monday evening and am off again tomorrow afternoon, heading for South Street in Reading. I have loved being at home for a little while- I get to see my husband, I get to remember how ridiculous my cat's behaviour is, I get to spend time on the allotment, and I get to eat warm food with real cutlery (although I did very much enjoy my Travelodge picnic involving eating crisps out of a tray I made from the lid of the cool box) There is something warming about being home, something magical about the chemistry of being back amongst familiar smells, waking up in my own bed, knowing what height the lightswitch is in the bathroom. I adore being here.
Having said that, I am enjoying being on tour far more than I ever anticipated. I am loving the adventure of it all- each day, each show, each minute of the show, is filled with unexpected surprises and treats. Turning up to each new place, the sound of Joni's engine babbling away like a happy tractor, hopping out to meet a new set of challenges and sights. The joy of the unknown has surpassed all expectations.
Now, if I wrote a blog about each place I'd been to, I'd be here until tomorrow evening, subsequently missing my journey down to Reading and, therefore, all my shows, so I am going to hit you with a list of top memorable moments. I would call them the 'highlights,' but that's not necessarily what they are.
1) In Morecambe, amidst the slightly apocolyptic weather on the seafront, my favourite teacher from primary school came to see my show. I think most of us have that teacher that we remember with huge fondness. Mrs Cornthwaite was mine. I felt giddy to see her- she looked exactly the same. I'd like to say that she thought I looked TOTALLY DIFFERENT to the bowl-haired, slightly crazy looking little girl with the thick glasses and the eyepatch, but sadly, this wasn't the case. We went out for dinner afterwards and ate mussels and talked and talked and talked. She bought me a selection of wonderful things for my allotment, and a new writing book. She remembered how I always loved to write and I was overwhelmed by this part of my past coming back and being so awesome.
2) Whilst sheltering from the rain in Williamson Park in Lancaster, two members of my audience from the day before came back to visit me and bring me homemade scones and tea in between shows. With homemade gooseberry jam. And a BABY (that was their baby, they weren't giving him to me as a gift- that would've been far too much) I was so touched by this and we sat and ate the surprise picnic in Joni while the Lancaster rained bashed the windows and made us feel like it was somehow November all over again.
3) In Taunton, a man asked me if he could bring his girlfriend into the show with him. He hadn't been able to get her a ticket and asked if I could 'squeeze her in,' possibly sitting on his knee. I had to explain that this wasn't really like going on a normal car journey, and that the whole '5 people at once' thing wasn't me being decadent, that is the ABSOLUTE MAXIMUM of people that can physically fit into Joni.
4) In Paisley, I saw a shop called 'MENACE- Continental Childrenswear.' That made me laugh for a long time.
5) In Harrogate, I overheard the following conversation in a toilet:
Lady 1) " Ooh, it smells nice in here, doesn't it?"
Lady 2) "Ooh yes, it does. 'Cause they don't often smell nice do they, toilets.."
JOY
6) In Lancaster, I had to get out of the camper about 4 minutes into the show to be violently sick. For a while, I think the audience thought it was part of the show, as I announced it very politely and calmly, but had they been able to hear my inner monologue, they would have heard me screaming QUICK! GET OUT OF MY WAY! I AM DEFINITELY GOING TO BE SICK AND I REALLY DON'T WANT TO DO IT IN HERE AS THAT WILL BE MASSIVELY TRAUMATIC FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED AND I WILL NEVER GET IT OUT OF THE CARPET.'
Needless to say, that is the last time I will be eating seafood in between shows.
It is also, hopefully the last time I will ever leave an entirely undigested mussel on the pavement outside a city centre Travelodge.
7) Also in Lancaster, I found myself standing in the street with 50 other people, most of whom were pensioners, wearing my Superman pyjamas. This was due to an unplanned fire alarm test. Thank goodness I wasn't wearing the cape. I may have had to explain to them all that I couldn't help, and the cape was purely aesthetic.
8) On the way home to London last week, Joni broke down. Three times. I spent most of the day on the hard shoulder of the M6, it took 14 hours to get from Lancashire to London and we arrived on the back of a tow truck. This was a really awful day and not one I want to go into too much as the anxiety fuelled weeping may kick in again.
Panic not, we figured out what the problem was and Joni went into Campervan Hospital for a day, but it did make me aware all over again about how owning a classic VW is truly a labour of love. I wouldn't have it any other way- I'm in this for the rough and the smooth, and it made me realise how precious Joni is to me and how much of a commitment it is to own her. I would say that she is now purring like a kitten, but that is a sound you are never going to hear coming from a VW. Think 'old man leopard with a cough.'
9) In Taunton, an audience member popped back the next day and left a chilli plant by Joni, for me to find. She had grown it in her own garden and wanted to give it to me for the allotment. Again, I was extremely touched by this lovely gesture. Although I do now feel a massive responsibility to not accidentally kill it by spraying it with Flash Kitchen Cleaner.
10) Over the last 2 weeks, I have watched the entirety of series one of 'Downton Abbey.'
I know that's nothing to do with the show. I just really, really liked it.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Monday, 2 May 2011
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....
Thursday, 21 April 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, 3 April 2011
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?
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?
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
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.
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.
Monday, 28 February 2011
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 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.
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
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..
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..
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