Hello. How've you been? Your hair looks nice today. I hope it's not raining as much outside your window as it is outside mine. Well, it's not MY window, it's the window of the little flat I have been living in for a couple of weeks. It's in Edinburgh. And Edinburgh, it seems, is currently going through the Autumn to Winter changeover. It was so cold today I was instructed to bring my husband an emergency jumper. These, my friends, are chilly times. I have spent the last 2 days sneezing, as the Edinburgh germ monkey has taken me in its little tartan grip. I am sporting the ever-attractive red nose/puffy eyes/bits of soggy tissue spilling out of your handbag/olbas oil scented look that is ever so the rage north of the border once the festival hits.
Right now I am squirrelled away in a little corner of Edinburgh. This time tomorrow I will be snuggled down in Joni the beautiful orangey yellow campervan, at entirely the other end of the country. Cornwall, wonderful Cornwall. I don't care if it's raining, if it's foggy, if it's so cold I need to put on MY emergency cardigan, all I need is a little bit of peace and nature, where teenagers don't try to give me small pieces of card whilst walking like demon creatures next to me and wearing pointy shoes and singing into my face without accompaniment. I also need some vegetables. Or just ANY GREEN FOOD.
The festival has been exhausting and eye opening in equal measure. I have seen theatre that has inspired me, made me feel excited about making more work. I have seen theatre that has left me thinking a lot about the role of the audience in the telling of a story. I have seen theatre that made me incredibly proud of the man I married. I have seen one piece of theatre that made me so angry I had to take my jumper off.
It has, as always, been an emotional and financial rollercoaster. (the financial rollercoaster would just consist of one track that plummets steadily into the ground, then leaves you there, strapped in, until you manage to pedal your way out whilst screaming HELP ME to the people who pass by)
Joni the campervan has not been with us up here in Scotland. She is waiting patiently for us in Cornwall, sporting her lovely silvery jacket and full of camping accessories (including some melamine plates that I am PRETTY SURE I forgot to wash before getting the train up here. If Joni smells like a dead mackerel, or has grown mushroom clusters, then I only have myself to blame) We are flying from Edinburgh to Cornwall and I have already had to convince someone else to drive some of my luggage back for me, having bought a 1950s style peach dress with loads of netting, that is so poofy it won't actually fit into my bag. I was tempted to wear it onboard, but then decided that Mad Men chic possibly wasn't the most comfortable of choices on a plane. I was also nervous about getting the netting trapped in the moving walkways at the aiport and getting limbs ripped off, which wouldn't help with the relaxation I've got planned.
In terms of 'Running on Air' there is still some distance to go. Next stop is Falmouth, somewhere I am looking forward to immensely, not least because we are being parked really near a really good pasty shop. Lots of my husbands friends and family will be coming along and I'm excited about performing the show there, as much of the story is about Cornwall. It's somewhere I feel happy, somewhere I love to spend time and somewhere I can wear wellies all the time without judgement. I got married there, in an apocolyptic storm that was so awful it made the news.
I really can't wait to be back.
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
The Rhubarb, The Bra and the Eyepatch.
Now then, I only have a little while to update this today as made a to-do list earlier and there are 29 things on there. I normally put things on to-do lists that are really easy to cross off, such as 'put shoes on before going out' and that way I can feel as if I am achieving something, but this time there is no room for that kind of frivolity.
Here is the problem- I have had a week off at home. At the beginning of the week off, I had absolutely no idea what to do with myself. Since the end of April I have been all over the darn place- filling my time with a) doing shows and b) waiting for RAC mechanics on the side of various UK motorways. Every moment has been filled with the tour, and for moments that were not filled with that. there was Downton Abbey and eating cheese and crackers. It's been pretty jampacked. (Jam, as well, there has been some of that too)
When presented with a week of enforced RELAXING , well I panicked. I felt lost within the vortex of a whole 14 hours of being awake and not actually working. Here are just a selection of things that I did to fill my time:
1) I completely reorganised my underwear drawer. I re-balled my socks, folded my pyjamas and realised that I do not own enough bras. I did, however, remember that I own a horrifically bright luminous pink bra that is so harmful to the eyes I had to hide it underneath my Superman pyjama bottoms.
2) I washed my front door. This is not a euphimism.
3) I harvested all the rhubarb for the garden and made every rhubarb recipe I could think of. (Well, I say 'I'. I OBVIOUSLY MEAN Jamie Oliver. ) I made rhubarb crumble, and, um, roasted rhubarb. OK, so maybe there were only 3 recipes in the book. The other one was
'Rhubarb Bellinis, ' which, in the book, look like the most wonderful thing you could possibly drink on a summer's evening before your husband leaves for Edinburgh for a month, sipping pink blushed cocktails delicately in the garden while the sun sets behind the trees.
What I essentially made was a warm, brown fizzing 2 layered mush, not dissimilar to a drinkable lava lamp. A cocktail is less sophisticated if you have to continue whisking it with a miniature fork whilst trying to pour it into your mouth.
THANKS A LOT JAMIE.
4) I bought a new yellow blanket from a charity shop. I did this on a day that was so hot even looking at the blanket made me overheat. With hindsight, a silly idea.
5) I drank some cider out of the fridge to test whether it had gone off or not.
And so, there we are. That is how I have spent my week off. I have now realised that I leave again on Thursday morning and there is no way I am going to fit in everything that I need to do. Having spent so much time cutting up rhubarb and drinking things out of the fridge just to clear some of the shelves, I am now in a desperate scramble to get everything done. I am dealing with this by a) writing this blog which is in no way making any dent on my list of tasks and b) trying to teach the cat to clean herself after rolling in piles of dust in the garden. I think you'll agree that those are both marvellous uses of my time.
Oh, and of course, I went to the allotment. I have really missed having a little haven to hang out in and I was so excited to see what changes there have been. I am delighted to report that I had 2 of the most perfect, tasty blueberries I have ever eaten. I would have had more, but our plant hadn't actually grown any more, so 2 it was. This morning my allotment buddy and I spent an hour digging for potatoes, finding them like little nuggets of gold. It felt like digging for treasure. I am tempted to try and find my eyepatch from when I was a child to feel like a real pirate.
We also spent a long while pulling diseased leaves off the courgette plants. But there's nothing exciting about that.
Here is the problem- I have had a week off at home. At the beginning of the week off, I had absolutely no idea what to do with myself. Since the end of April I have been all over the darn place- filling my time with a) doing shows and b) waiting for RAC mechanics on the side of various UK motorways. Every moment has been filled with the tour, and for moments that were not filled with that. there was Downton Abbey and eating cheese and crackers. It's been pretty jampacked. (Jam, as well, there has been some of that too)
When presented with a week of enforced RELAXING , well I panicked. I felt lost within the vortex of a whole 14 hours of being awake and not actually working. Here are just a selection of things that I did to fill my time:
1) I completely reorganised my underwear drawer. I re-balled my socks, folded my pyjamas and realised that I do not own enough bras. I did, however, remember that I own a horrifically bright luminous pink bra that is so harmful to the eyes I had to hide it underneath my Superman pyjama bottoms.
2) I washed my front door. This is not a euphimism.
3) I harvested all the rhubarb for the garden and made every rhubarb recipe I could think of. (Well, I say 'I'. I OBVIOUSLY MEAN Jamie Oliver. ) I made rhubarb crumble, and, um, roasted rhubarb. OK, so maybe there were only 3 recipes in the book. The other one was
'Rhubarb Bellinis, ' which, in the book, look like the most wonderful thing you could possibly drink on a summer's evening before your husband leaves for Edinburgh for a month, sipping pink blushed cocktails delicately in the garden while the sun sets behind the trees.
What I essentially made was a warm, brown fizzing 2 layered mush, not dissimilar to a drinkable lava lamp. A cocktail is less sophisticated if you have to continue whisking it with a miniature fork whilst trying to pour it into your mouth.
THANKS A LOT JAMIE.
4) I bought a new yellow blanket from a charity shop. I did this on a day that was so hot even looking at the blanket made me overheat. With hindsight, a silly idea.
5) I drank some cider out of the fridge to test whether it had gone off or not.
And so, there we are. That is how I have spent my week off. I have now realised that I leave again on Thursday morning and there is no way I am going to fit in everything that I need to do. Having spent so much time cutting up rhubarb and drinking things out of the fridge just to clear some of the shelves, I am now in a desperate scramble to get everything done. I am dealing with this by a) writing this blog which is in no way making any dent on my list of tasks and b) trying to teach the cat to clean herself after rolling in piles of dust in the garden. I think you'll agree that those are both marvellous uses of my time.
Oh, and of course, I went to the allotment. I have really missed having a little haven to hang out in and I was so excited to see what changes there have been. I am delighted to report that I had 2 of the most perfect, tasty blueberries I have ever eaten. I would have had more, but our plant hadn't actually grown any more, so 2 it was. This morning my allotment buddy and I spent an hour digging for potatoes, finding them like little nuggets of gold. It felt like digging for treasure. I am tempted to try and find my eyepatch from when I was a child to feel like a real pirate.
We also spent a long while pulling diseased leaves off the courgette plants. But there's nothing exciting about that.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
The Dolphins, the Swan and the Arran Jumper.
Again, it's been too long, hasn't it.
I'm managing to catch a few moments in my little blog- writing corner as I am home for precisely 19 hours and have just enough time to a) write this and b) pop a wash on. I have an anorak to wash and that will not wait.
Since I last updated the blog, Joni and I have been to Reading, Ipswich, Cardiff, Hull, Kendal, Giggleswick, Holmfirth (where Last of the Summer Wine was filmed) back to London, then to Eastleigh, Newbury and back to London.
What's that? I hear you cry- Have you upgraded Joni to a different car that really LOVES going long distances in short spaces of time?
No.
No we haven't.
Now, Joni DID enjoy SOME of those miles. She enjoyed, for example, going up to the top of Kirkstone Pass outside of Kendal, where she pushed herself up with all her might, then sat proudly amongst the low cloud, looking beautiful for weary cyclists and walkers.
She did NOT, however, getting down again, and she preferred, instead, to basically roll down, then have an extremely dramatic breakdown at the bottom in a Booths carpark, where we were circled by 9 year old girls on bikes taunting us with 'ooh, your van's broken down, we heard a big bang.' YES THANK YOU VERY MUCH LADIES WE ARE AWARE OF THAT AND YES, OUR VAN MAY BE MAKING BANGING NOISES YOU CAN PROBABLY HEAR A NUMBER OF MILES AWAY BUT SHE IS STILL VERY PRETTY ON THE OUTSIDE THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
In short, the last few weeks have presented more engine problems than I ever thought it possible to appear. I have learned many new words of a mechanical nature, and although I am not entirely confident about using them in full sentences, Joni's mechanic has told me that I am least pronouncing them correctly.
We have been extremely unlucky with Joni's engine- one mystery problem was chased around and around for 3 weeks and 7 mechanics, spread all over the UK, scratched their heads and changed various things (I know all the names of those things, if you wanted to test me) The problem, which we eventually found in Hull, was a TEENY TINY piece of plastic in the fuel tank. Helpfully, the mechanic who found it has made it into a keyring for us, so we can forever remember the utter mechanical horror of Summer 2011.
The sheer number of breakdowns we have had has had a positive side to it, too. We have met a wonderful array of delightful RAC men, roadside mechanics, VW enthusiasts and petrol station attendants. Without wanting to sound like a big sap (this tour has turned me a bit emotional- probably something to do with the lack of sleep and sheer volume of raspberry jelly I have eaten) we have met some heroes. All you can hope for when you're tired and stranded on the side of the road is that someone kind will turn up, someone who doesn't taunt you for owning a classic car, someone who won't think you've got mental problems for doing a show inside a van. ('What? But where do the audience go while you're in the van? Do they watch it from another van? But what HAPPENS in there...?')
As with my last blog, the highs and lows have been all too numerous to list, so here is my Top Ten Memorable Moment from the last 5 weeks:
1) In on of my Hull shows, I met a man called Gary who has what can only be described as 'Gardening Tourettes.' At any given moment, he would interrupt me to tell me about another vegetable that he had recently planted. Towards the end of my show, when I am recounting quite an emotional encounter, during which I gained clarity about all sorts of things, Gary shouted 'I GREW SOME ROCKET' very closely into my face. Thanks Gary.
2)In Giggleswick, we met Katy, the wife of the headmaster of the boarding school there, who is currently in the middle of knitting an Arran jumper. She started making that jumper 27 years ago.
3) In Clapham (just outside of Giggleswick) Tom and I had had the wonderful and rare treat of camping for 2 nights and having a day to just....be. It was amazing. During the day, we went for a little walk into the village. We walked past a garden, with a lone plastic, 2D swan ornament. On that swan, was printed the word 'John.' That made us laugh for a long time.
4) In Cardiff, Joni was parked outside the Wales Millenium Centre. She was quite a sight, resting a little orangey yellow treat nestled underneath a huge and overwhelming building. On the Sunday night, Michael Ball was doing a solo concert inside the main auditorium. I have never seen so many pastel anoraks in one place. He sold 1900 tickets for his 8pm show. I sold 5. Needless to say, we were both sold out. I will now be popping myself in the same 'National Treasure bracket as Michael Ball. Any problems with that, I will deal with those personally.
5) In the show, I like to hope that I leave people wondering if my stories are real or not. In Ipswich, after my opening sentence of 'Hello, I'm Laura,' I was greeted with 'IS THAT YOUR REAL NAME?' There was clearly no hope for any sort of illusion with that audience. We dealt with that, and moved on. It turned out to be quite a lovely show.
6) I have mentioned before that sometimes, audiences members come back after they've seen the show and bring me gifts. You may remember that in Taunton, I received a chilli plant. You will be pleased to know that I have not killed it yet. In Eastleigh, I received a gift that I feel may be difficult to beat. A local man, who had not seen the show, arrived at the van in between shows, with a huge, framed painting of a family of dophins. In an oddly grumpy manner he announced 'This is for you. Put it up in your van' and marched off. On closer inspection, I am almost certain that the painting had been very recently ripped off a wall. We didn't manage to find that wall, so are now the proud owners of a slightly odd painting of some dolphins that does not fit in the van at all. If you are the owner of a newly empty wall, please do get in touch.
7) In the spirit of using my downtime on tour to work my way through various costume dramas, I can now add Little Dorrit to my list. I liked it, although this was mainly due to the unintentionally comic way in which Andy Serkis kept peeping round the side of trees in a French, sneaky manner.
8) In London, whilst doing the show in a very corporate square near Euston Station, Sandi Toksvig very kindly accepted my invitation to come along to see the show. I was a bit giddy to engage so closely with someone who has inspired my writing for many years, but I *think* I managed to hold it together and I had a really wonderful show with a warm and open audience. Joni is still reeling from hearing the best laugh in showbusiness.
9) An important part of the show is a story of how I climbed a hill to perform a gig to the elements, a few years ago, when I was feeling lost and low and in need of inspiration. In Kendal a few weeks ago, in the midst of a weekend of awful breakdowns and feeling incredibly weary, I climbed up to the top of Gummers Howe, which overlooks Lake Windermere, with 20 audience members, and recreated that gig, with the wind and the rain and the feeling that whatever happens, I must always remember how this feels. Always.
10) Also in Kendal, Joni met her husband to be. He is a T25 called Lionel. Details need to be worked out but needless to say, that wedding is going to ROCK.
I'm managing to catch a few moments in my little blog- writing corner as I am home for precisely 19 hours and have just enough time to a) write this and b) pop a wash on. I have an anorak to wash and that will not wait.
Since I last updated the blog, Joni and I have been to Reading, Ipswich, Cardiff, Hull, Kendal, Giggleswick, Holmfirth (where Last of the Summer Wine was filmed) back to London, then to Eastleigh, Newbury and back to London.
What's that? I hear you cry- Have you upgraded Joni to a different car that really LOVES going long distances in short spaces of time?
No.
No we haven't.
Now, Joni DID enjoy SOME of those miles. She enjoyed, for example, going up to the top of Kirkstone Pass outside of Kendal, where she pushed herself up with all her might, then sat proudly amongst the low cloud, looking beautiful for weary cyclists and walkers.
She did NOT, however, getting down again, and she preferred, instead, to basically roll down, then have an extremely dramatic breakdown at the bottom in a Booths carpark, where we were circled by 9 year old girls on bikes taunting us with 'ooh, your van's broken down, we heard a big bang.' YES THANK YOU VERY MUCH LADIES WE ARE AWARE OF THAT AND YES, OUR VAN MAY BE MAKING BANGING NOISES YOU CAN PROBABLY HEAR A NUMBER OF MILES AWAY BUT SHE IS STILL VERY PRETTY ON THE OUTSIDE THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
In short, the last few weeks have presented more engine problems than I ever thought it possible to appear. I have learned many new words of a mechanical nature, and although I am not entirely confident about using them in full sentences, Joni's mechanic has told me that I am least pronouncing them correctly.
We have been extremely unlucky with Joni's engine- one mystery problem was chased around and around for 3 weeks and 7 mechanics, spread all over the UK, scratched their heads and changed various things (I know all the names of those things, if you wanted to test me) The problem, which we eventually found in Hull, was a TEENY TINY piece of plastic in the fuel tank. Helpfully, the mechanic who found it has made it into a keyring for us, so we can forever remember the utter mechanical horror of Summer 2011.
The sheer number of breakdowns we have had has had a positive side to it, too. We have met a wonderful array of delightful RAC men, roadside mechanics, VW enthusiasts and petrol station attendants. Without wanting to sound like a big sap (this tour has turned me a bit emotional- probably something to do with the lack of sleep and sheer volume of raspberry jelly I have eaten) we have met some heroes. All you can hope for when you're tired and stranded on the side of the road is that someone kind will turn up, someone who doesn't taunt you for owning a classic car, someone who won't think you've got mental problems for doing a show inside a van. ('What? But where do the audience go while you're in the van? Do they watch it from another van? But what HAPPENS in there...?')
As with my last blog, the highs and lows have been all too numerous to list, so here is my Top Ten Memorable Moment from the last 5 weeks:
1) In on of my Hull shows, I met a man called Gary who has what can only be described as 'Gardening Tourettes.' At any given moment, he would interrupt me to tell me about another vegetable that he had recently planted. Towards the end of my show, when I am recounting quite an emotional encounter, during which I gained clarity about all sorts of things, Gary shouted 'I GREW SOME ROCKET' very closely into my face. Thanks Gary.
2)In Giggleswick, we met Katy, the wife of the headmaster of the boarding school there, who is currently in the middle of knitting an Arran jumper. She started making that jumper 27 years ago.
3) In Clapham (just outside of Giggleswick) Tom and I had had the wonderful and rare treat of camping for 2 nights and having a day to just....be. It was amazing. During the day, we went for a little walk into the village. We walked past a garden, with a lone plastic, 2D swan ornament. On that swan, was printed the word 'John.' That made us laugh for a long time.
4) In Cardiff, Joni was parked outside the Wales Millenium Centre. She was quite a sight, resting a little orangey yellow treat nestled underneath a huge and overwhelming building. On the Sunday night, Michael Ball was doing a solo concert inside the main auditorium. I have never seen so many pastel anoraks in one place. He sold 1900 tickets for his 8pm show. I sold 5. Needless to say, we were both sold out. I will now be popping myself in the same 'National Treasure bracket as Michael Ball. Any problems with that, I will deal with those personally.
5) In the show, I like to hope that I leave people wondering if my stories are real or not. In Ipswich, after my opening sentence of 'Hello, I'm Laura,' I was greeted with 'IS THAT YOUR REAL NAME?' There was clearly no hope for any sort of illusion with that audience. We dealt with that, and moved on. It turned out to be quite a lovely show.
6) I have mentioned before that sometimes, audiences members come back after they've seen the show and bring me gifts. You may remember that in Taunton, I received a chilli plant. You will be pleased to know that I have not killed it yet. In Eastleigh, I received a gift that I feel may be difficult to beat. A local man, who had not seen the show, arrived at the van in between shows, with a huge, framed painting of a family of dophins. In an oddly grumpy manner he announced 'This is for you. Put it up in your van' and marched off. On closer inspection, I am almost certain that the painting had been very recently ripped off a wall. We didn't manage to find that wall, so are now the proud owners of a slightly odd painting of some dolphins that does not fit in the van at all. If you are the owner of a newly empty wall, please do get in touch.
7) In the spirit of using my downtime on tour to work my way through various costume dramas, I can now add Little Dorrit to my list. I liked it, although this was mainly due to the unintentionally comic way in which Andy Serkis kept peeping round the side of trees in a French, sneaky manner.
8) In London, whilst doing the show in a very corporate square near Euston Station, Sandi Toksvig very kindly accepted my invitation to come along to see the show. I was a bit giddy to engage so closely with someone who has inspired my writing for many years, but I *think* I managed to hold it together and I had a really wonderful show with a warm and open audience. Joni is still reeling from hearing the best laugh in showbusiness.
9) An important part of the show is a story of how I climbed a hill to perform a gig to the elements, a few years ago, when I was feeling lost and low and in need of inspiration. In Kendal a few weeks ago, in the midst of a weekend of awful breakdowns and feeling incredibly weary, I climbed up to the top of Gummers Howe, which overlooks Lake Windermere, with 20 audience members, and recreated that gig, with the wind and the rain and the feeling that whatever happens, I must always remember how this feels. Always.
10) Also in Kendal, Joni met her husband to be. He is a T25 called Lionel. Details need to be worked out but needless to say, that wedding is going to ROCK.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
The Scones, The Sickness and the DVD Boxset
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.
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.
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?
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