tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43693440983235016152024-03-05T00:54:00.027-08:00Acting upStuff what my brain thinks. An experiment. You can also watch my vlogs on You Tube: Ash Acting UpAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.comBlogger206125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-60308042650948842192019-01-12T07:22:00.000-08:002019-01-12T07:22:17.465-08:00Reader, I married him.OH GOD. I have blogger guilt. It has been, quite literally and without hyperbole, YEARS since I even attempted to write in this blog.<br />
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Why is that?<br />
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Well, for much the same reason as I don't really vlog any more-I got busy. London got more expensive to live in, I lost my fairly well paid, flexible, working from home job because of Brexit (yaaaaay) and started having to work double the hours to make the same wage plus two additional hours a day travelling. My acting career picked up and at last I was working regularly in front of a camera again. It's been, as my American friends would say, a minute.<br />
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So here's a bit of a run down of some of the things that have happened to me since I last blogged.<br />
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-I got engaged to my favourite human. It was beautiful and romantic and silly and I cried so much my false eyelashes got stuck to my chin.<br />
-I achieved (extremely) minor fame as a character in a hit, record breaking FMV game, which we then made a follow up to which has done similarly well. Both are mad and I love them, and the process of making them and promoting them has been eye opening and fascinating and wonderful. I'm hoping I'll be back for a third this year (if there's a role for me obviously). I appeared in The Official Playstation Magazine (which I used to read as a Lara Croft obsessed 12 year old in the supermarket aisles), and suddenly have this awesome group of followers who are mega supportive and lovely.<br />
-I got into the showcase course for the awesome class I was studying which was a huge deal for me. I have such huge respect for my teacher, Mary Doherty, who has become a friend and a confidant and so to know she thought I was good enough to be in her showcase group massively built up my confidence. I met the most beautiful group of humans doing the course and loved every second-and then, as is sometimes the way, in front of more influential agents, casting director's and Simon Callow and for just the second time in 7 years working as a professional actor-I forgot my words. To a monologue I knew (and still know) back to front. I managed to cover it (just) but was so disappointed in myself that I went home and howled with tears, scaring my then Fiancé rather an enormous amount. I was fairly sure that I was finished as an actor and would never work again. Over the top? Yes. But I was gutted and felt utterly rubbish about myself. Being an actor is emotional folks.<br />
-I signed with an agency, who had wanted to sign me before the showcase, and thankfully still wanted to sign me after it. I got a lot of lovely commercial work through them and continued to get my own (more creatively fulfilling work) on my own terms.<br />
-I lost 2 stone. Mostly from stopping eating a family size bag of chocolates in front of the TV every night and paying more attention to what I put in my body-I've continued to follow a plan and have stayed at a size I'm really happy with since (looking back at a film I did at my heaviest, I was carrying a lot of weight around my middle and was seriously in denial of how much I'd gained in a short space of time) I'm now back wearing some of my favourite clothes and am more comfortable about my body than I've been for years.<br />
-I reached a point where I decided to stop making space in my life for anyone who made me feel anxious, negative or sad for no good reason. I had to make some tough decisions and sit on my people pleasing, doormat side (which is exceptionally susceptible to passive aggressive behaviour and gaslighting)-but have been FAR happier since. I learnt two huge things from this a) You do not have to set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm and b) Just because someone has shown you kindness at times does not give them the right to cause you emotional harm. Took me almost 30 years, but I worked it out eventually.<br />
-We travelled to Berlin, Italy, Morocco and all round England. Along the way discovered German spas are wonderful but require a bit of bravery initially, Berlin does excellent Thai and Turkish food (but finding actual German food is a bit of a mission), Italy remains one of my favourite places, I love gelato with cheese in it (its a bit like ricotta and is divine), I may hate fresh mint tea in England but in Marrakesh it's a different story, my husband is pretty damn good at picking up languages, finding clothes that are 'modest' but still flattering is a mission, that I am fairly allergic to horse hair but I'm an excellent haggler.<br />
-I finally made the Poison Ivy project I've been writing, editing, workshopping and having meetings about for three years with Rob as Bruce, directed and produced by Sophie Black of Triskelle Pictures. I have never felt so fulfilled from work as I was the last day of that project. I am so excited to release it this year, and so nervous-a huge labour of love. I also wore a teeny tiny costume whilst on the worst period of my life, and in doing so felt like a warrior (and far less shy about talking about a body function women spend a week every month suffering with). It wasn't till this project that I realised that I can't pussyfoot (unintentional pun) around my womanhood. If I'm concerned that being on a heavy, painful period is going to affect my performance you better bet I'm going to let the crew know and warn at least three people to be on red alert (second, slightly more intentional pun)<br />
-I appeared in a film called A Friend In Need by writer Matt Carrell which has gone on to win over twenty awards-two of which were for my performance-we're now hoping to turn what is currently a long (almost half an hour) short into a feature film and it's looking increasingly positive. The cast and crew of the film have also turned out to be some of my all time favourite co workers, and we've remained firm friends.<br />
-I left my agent for a much bigger agent right at the end of last year and am now starting 2019 in a constant state of needing to please (oldest child syndrome anyone?)<br />
-I lost two people who has a huge impact on my life-one suddenly and cruelly young. It taught me a vast amount about grief, life and living in the moment. Every now and again, out of nowhere, I'm still hit by the grief like a sledgehammer in my stomach-when I remember a story he told, or I forget he's not here any more and I go to text him, or when facebook tells me that it's the anniversary of a show we did together or a film we worked on.<br />
-I had the best hen do, put together by my astonishingly brilliant friends and particularly my wonderwoman of a MoH Kate<br />
-I got married. It's a cliche, but it honestly was the best day of my life so far-getting hitched to a man I couldn't have created in my wildest dreams, being surrounded by so many loved ones and family members and dancing the night away at a wedding I spent a year and a half making. Watching our wedding video still chokes me up every time-and the whole experience makes me feel like the luckiest of people. I'm a wife! Madness. Aren't I still 15 and therefore exceedingly young to be married? I'm double that? Well, shit. Who knew.<br />
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And now here we are! 2019. A newlywed, utterly skint actor who's failed her driving test twice and has no idea what the future holds. It's all very exciting and terrifying and full of possibilities. <br />
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So let's do this. Pass me a cup of tea and let's get started!<br />
<br />
Ash x<br />
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<br />Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-30022207593337914392016-04-27T02:31:00.000-07:002016-04-27T02:31:20.176-07:00In which I go back to class...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Reader, I have started going to a weekly acting class.<br />
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Ok, so you'll probably read that and go 'so what?' but here's the thing: I haven't been back in training officially for almost 5 years. I'd been through a bit of a patch of feeling unexcited and frankly a bit crap about the whole acting thing-too many bad scripts, auditions with rude directors and less than fun experiences. I needed something that would make me feel the passion again, and having watched my guy do these weekly classes and come home brimming with enthusiasm and excitement, I decided to take the plunge, hoping to refresh my skills and re-awaken the joy a bit.<br />
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What I hadn't expected were the nerves.<br />
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Nor that the nerves would be about meeting my classmates.<br />
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Reader, I think I've mentioned in the past, I got quite badly bullied as a kid. I didn't know how to interact with other children, because I spoke like a 30 year old and had spent a while before school travelling the world with my parents. Groups of kids and the way in which you're supposed to behave around them baffled me. Making friends was hard, and bullies picked up on the fact that I was different to them, leading to years of just not wanting to go to school. I didn't speak the language, or understand the conventions. I thought perhaps I was past that nervousness around large groups of strangers now, what with the fact that I have lots of amazing friends and constantly have to meet new people as part of my career, but as it turns out, I am just as awkward as ever.<br />
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The first day I was so nervous I could barely speak. I sat in a cafe opposite the theatre beforehand, trying and failing to read the same page of my book for half an hour before (thank god) my wonderful teacher bumped into me and walked with me to class. She dropped me off in the hallway with a small group of my classmates, who were ridiculously welcoming. A friend who had done the earlier class walked by and I got into a chat with her about how she'd been doing-by the time I turned around the small group had turned into what seemed to me to be a teeming mass of humans. Oh god. And they all looked really young, confident and absurdly cool. And they all knew what to wear to a weekly acting class (lycra and funky tops, which, as I am swiftly approaching 30 I find harder and harder to pull off). The nerves returned. They all knew each other and were excitedly chatting away. Heading up to the class, I was roughly 3 minutes away from a panic attack. Thank god I sat next to two lovely people who confided in me that they were crapping themselves at their first session too, and that I had nothing to worry about. And quite suddenly we'd begun. The thing is, it's hard to feel anxious when you're really enjoying what you're doing, and what I had forgotten is that I actually LIKE acting. In fact, I LOVE it. Being handed a script I've never seen before and being asked to perform it is pretty much my idea of heaven. But somehow I'd forgotten that, because how often do you actually get to perform without risking your career as an actor? Practically never. And the longer I spent with the other actors, the more relieved I was. These people don't judge. They are genuinely lovely, talented, warm and open folk who want you to succeed. The relief, dear Reader, was fairly overwhelming. I came home from class and one of the first things I said to my expectant boyfriend was 'I want to be everyone's friend in that class. They're all so...brilliant'. I don't know if you get friend crushes Reader, that feeling when you meet someone and you internally cross everything that they'll like you because they are so ridiculously wonderful that you want to hang out with them lots, but my class is full of people like that.<br />
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I have my 4th lesson this week. I'm really looking forward to it, not just because I'm learning so much (which I am) but also because I get to see this amazing group of people and play with them.<br />
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And just like that, I love being an actor again.<br />
Ash<br />
x<br />
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P.S. If you're an actor who needs to refresh their skills, their passion or just wants to learn some awesome new stuff, you'd be hard pushed to find a better class than The Actor's Class. Here's the <a href="http://www.theactorsclass.co.uk/" target="_blank">link</a> if you fancy having a wee ganderAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-14562595390139670832016-03-23T06:05:00.001-07:002016-03-23T06:05:21.128-07:00Fanciful about Food...Reader, when it's breakfast, I am deciding what to have for lunch. When it's lunch, I am deciding what to have for dinner. When it's dinner, I'm working out a way for us to have snacks later without me being the one to overtly suggest it. I am obsessed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first thing I ever baked in my current flat</td></tr>
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The thing is, food really does shape my life-most of my memories as a kid are tied around food-the worlds best banana pancakes in Bali when I was 3 that spoiled me for all other banana pancakes forever, ranbutans [sic?] eaten from paper bags in muggy hotel rooms with my parents whilst in Asia then being horribly disappointed by them back in the UK, my dad's ice cream floats (drunk on our front doorstep with all the neighbourhood kids), my Irish nan's roast potatoes that I will never be able to fully replicate and my English nan's date slice (for which I have the recipe, kept safe in a book, written down by 11 year old me and with everything spelt grossly, luxuriously wrong).<br />
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I knew I was head over heels for my boyfriend when I didn't even think about food on our first date, then on our second insisted on taking him to an Irish pub so that he could try red lemonade. I wanted him to be able to taste the drink that was the memory of so many childhood trips to Kerry because I knew he was important, even then. I was so delighted when he liked it that I threw my arms around him and kissed him.<br />
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For me, food means more than just nutrition-it's logged with emotion, nostalgia and memories. I've never been great at dieting for that very reason (which is a shame given that staying trim is part and parcel of being a screen actor). I grieved when my favourite Chinese take away closed down (I've never really recovered that particular betrayal).<br />
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In recent years more layers have been added-I know that at some point I want to have kids, so I know I have to keep my body fit and well, which means not only avoiding the wrong foods, but making sure I eat the right ones too. The past few years have had be eating meat and fish, discovering that my severe anaemia (despite my 17 year old protests) was linked to my vegetarianism and that steak is delicious. I don't just eat veggies because I have to now, I eat them because I love them and feel pretty rough if I don't. I make sure protien happens in every meal and that it's not always cheese. The older I get, the less food I can get away with eating without drastically changing size and shape. Which isn't to say that I don't still have huge pizzas and burgers-of course I do-but they had better be worth the damn calories. Frozen pizza doesn't cut it these days, it has to be the real deal or I feel cheated.<br />
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I can't tell you any dates from history but I can tell you what I ate the day we went to my first ever football match (smiley faces with soy sauce and ketchup-we were out of salt), or what me and my housemates talked about the first night we got drunk together and ate free buttery toast from the Christian tent ('Sorry man, we don't want to talk about god, we're mostly here for your food'). I can tell you the first meal Rob and I ever went out for (Thai food, which we barely ate because we were too busy laughing and doing Eddie Izzard impressions), what was served my first day on a proper TV set (veggie chilli and rice and loads of treacle sponge to ward off the cold), what I ate after my first proper break up (quorn hot dogs, one a day for 2 weeks. I lost almost a stone and looked DREADFUL), what I ate my first night in New York (TGI friday popcorn shrimp), what I ate when I found out my great uncle died (a really bad pizza from Pizza Hut), the drink my dad made me when I got mugged (very sugary tea, even though I hated tea, he said it was good for shock), what I ate the first time I was hungover (beans and chips, which I then threw up).<br />
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I feed people when they're sad-mashed potatoes, as Nora Ephron once said, are the best thing to treat melancholia. I also feed people when they're happy, celebration recipes stolen from Delia or Ottolenghi. I feed people to express my love for them, making Rob poached eggs on spinach and avocado is often my way of saying 'thank you for being incredible', cooking for my mum when I visit is my way of saying 'thank you for giving me a day job and being great at advice' and my dad's favourite carrot cake spells out how grateful I am for him putting up with all of my madness as a child (the man cut toast into pirate ships for me for god's sake)<br />
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So what's the moral of this blog post?<br />
God, I don't know. I must be hungry. I think it's probably that food is a beautiful and special thing and we're lucky we have so much of it or something. Ask me again after lunch.<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-35945385387107531892015-08-03T09:35:00.000-07:002015-08-03T09:49:20.474-07:00How different life might have been....Reader, when I was 18 years old, had hair down to my bum and had only just got a facebook account, I was invited to become a Suicide Girl.<br />
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(Me age 18)</div>
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I was offered a large amount of money to go and do a vintage style vaguely cheeky shoot in a super kitch Brighton hotel and boy was I tempted. I loved pin up girls. Being a child of the Myspace generation, I was also a huge Suicide Girls fan, loving the funky, non-cookie-cutter girls in the pictures and the message of proud female sexuality they sold. But I was also an 18 year old just out of Catholic 6th Form, who'd never had a boyfriend or had any clue about myself as a woman apart from the fact that I liked vintage clothes and acting and feminism. I thought for maybe 14 hours about the offer before I turned it down, not wanting to have a negative effect on my not-even-yet-in-existence-acting-career, or to have pictures of myself that I may later regret online. I sent the 'thank you but no thank you' email with no small degree of regret. I loved Suicide Girls. They were like the cool, alternative, fun girls who don't play by the rules but are still popular and offered fame and fortune-something which, as a naive and exceptionally innocent 18 year old, was hard to turn down.<br />
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Now, looking back I don't regret my decision at all. I still think Suicide Girls are incredible, but at 18 years old I had none of the street savvy required to do a shoot that would have sexualised me to such an extent, nor any of the self confidence. I am happy to do burlesque or vargas style shoots these days, but as a woman nearing the end of my twenties, I have the life experience and knowledge to be able to say no to anything I'm uncomfortable with and put my foot down if I don't like shots. I do however wonder if I'd be any different had I done the shoot....<br />
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So here's a little idea of who I'd be in my imagination if I did....<br />
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So, acting work would have come in after the shoot, as being a SG was very trendy at that point in time. I likely would have taken a year out of uni to do some acting work (and knowing myself as I do, I wouldn't have gone back). I would have missed out on meeting some wonderful people and having experiences that I treasure like crazy now, but I also would have done the young model/actor thing, travelling and staying in a million hotels with a crazy group of people. Being as impressionable as I was at that age, I would probably have got myself into some sticky situations. I would have got more tattoos and probably dyed my hair wackier colours to fit with my new, alternative friends. My casting would be fairly different. Without the 'little sister' tag I had at university, I would have ended up with boyfriends a lot earlier, and probably would have had my heart broken a whole lot. Would I have done drugs? I'd like to say no, but at that age? Who knows? At 18 I'd never been offered drugs, my knowledge of them was purely theoretical. I might have ended up going to drama school, but I think after starting in the professional world at 18, without knowing who I was as a person, I would now be a very different person-probably someone who was a lot wearier emotionally, a lot harder, probably a lot less level headed. I'd maybe have more of a name for myself but not in the same kind of projects I love doing now-I probably would never have met my gorgeous, life changing partner, have started vlogging or have spent 5 years in education. I feel like at the age I am now, I'd be sick of the industry and would have started a coffee shop or worked as a journalist or something completely different.<br />
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All in all, Reader, I'm exceptionally happy with my choice. I may not be able to call myself a SG, but I love my career, my personal life and I wouldn't change a thing about how I got here. Because I wouldn't be the same person-and I kind of like me.<br />
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Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-43197505359417963782015-07-01T12:50:00.000-07:002015-07-01T23:57:54.378-07:00In which I disagree with someone more important than me...<br />
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Reader, the other night I went to hear a Very Important Man (VIM) who is involved in my industry speak. A lot of what he said I nodded appreciatively at, and I applauded at his work and even stood up when everyone else did at the end to give a standing ovation (although I felt a bit silly given he hadn't just performed or done a Ted Talk). But there was one thing out of all of the things he said that I really, really disagreed with.<br />
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A young student in the audience asked for advice for people who wanted to be actors and he replied, in all seriousness; 'Don't be in a relationship, don't get married, don't have kids'.<br />
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To that, I say BOLLOCKS.<br />
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In case you mis-read, that is a very clear, BOLLOCKS.<br />
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Being an actor is not always easy. When you're working, it can be the best job on earth, but the set backs are hard and sometimes it can be emotionally traumatic. Last week 3 potential, well paying, career changing jobs melted away into nothing when I found out I had been lied to by a professional catfish ( you can see the vlog on that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQdwnyL7IfI" target="_blank">HERE</a>). I was gutted. I was scared. I felt invaded. But about a year ago, I was also lucky enough to meet someone who changed my life and who knows more about me than anyone else in the world, someone who I respect as an actor and producer, someone who gives great advice and who I love so much that sometimes it scares me a bit. So when at first I tried to overlook the fraud, he sat me down and gently made me look properly so that I'd see going to meet this person was unwise and would put me in an unsafe situation. When I felt stupid he told me all the thing that made him proud of me, that I often overlook. When I cried, he held me and kissed me till I stopped shaking and then sat me on a terrace in his jumper and brought me wine and chocolate. By the morning I felt ready to do detective work on the fraudster and properly report them, and felt more positive about my life.<br />
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If I had been single, I wouldn't have had that sounding board. Yes, friends and family are incredible and make my life wonderful every day, but being in a relationship you get a cheer squad of one and a partner in crime to back you up and help make difficult decisions. Now I'm not saying you need to be in a relationship as an actor, of course not! I've been single as an actor, and it was fulfilling and excellent! But it didn't make me a better actor. Nor does being in a relationship, but it gives you some much needed support in an industry that can sometimes be very lonely.<br />
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You also have someone to share the good times with-we've celebrated so many achievements together, and because he's there to see how hard I work at it, he knows how important it is when something finally pays off and we take huge amounts of joy from our successes.<br />
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Ok, so being in a relationship means that when you go to work abroad or on tour you have someone to miss, but that just means that you have something excellent to come home to. True, you can't just jet off to live in LA at a minutes notice but a) when would you have done that anyway, leaving all your family and friends behind and b) to be honest I would follow my partner anywhere, and I know he'd do the same-what matters is that we have someone to enjoy the journey with us.<br />
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Now please don't take this as me single shaming, it's not at all. I loved being single, I was great at being single, I was a single actor for a year and my career was just dandy. But don't let people tell you that being in a relationship gets in the way of your career. If you're with the right person, it supports it. You determine how your life works, how your relationships work, how your career works. If you're in a relationship that's holding you back, then it may be time to look at the dynamics of that relationship. But for goodness sake, don't give up on love just because some 'industry professional' told you to. That's their experience. Not yours.<br />
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Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-41539011144693546982015-06-09T08:46:00.000-07:002015-06-09T08:46:22.740-07:0010 things to do while waiting to hear the results of an audition...Reader, I am currently waiting to hear the results of 3 auditions. All of which are for pretty huge things-now generally I am very good at just putting auditions to the back of my mind as soon as I've done them so I don't get worked up, but because all three of these projects would be amazing and also I have a cold so am stuck inside today, I am unable to think of much else. So I've decided to give you....<br />
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<b><u>10 THINGS TO DO WHILE WAITING TO HEAR THE RESULTS OF AN AUDITION</u></b><br />
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<li><b><u>Watch Buffy on Netflix</u></b></li>
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Because Buffy. I don't think I should have to give more of a reason for this. It's Buffy. It's excellent.</div>
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2. <b><u>Clean your messy messy room</u></b></div>
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There is a chance I have avoided doing this, citing having a cold as the sole reason. My room currently looks like an episode of Hoarders. </div>
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3. <b><u>Text your boyfriend and plan your next holiday together in epic detail</u></b></div>
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SO EXCITED. Pass the suncream and the travel scrabble, we're off on some adventures....</div>
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4. <b><u>Teach yourself to learn a new accent</u></b></div>
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I have tried and failed to learn New Orleans, Welsh and Arabic today</div>
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5. <b><u>Pinterest</u></b></div>
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Universal wishlist yourself into a state of near frenzy, then weep when you realise your room is not made of bare brick and full of gorgeous mis-matching vintage furniture and that you can't be bothered to make yourself a vegan superfood bowl for dinner in perfect colours and will probably end up having an egg bagel.</div>
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6. <b><u>Budget for the next million weddings you're going to</u></b></div>
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Answer? You can't afford any of them. Begin working out ways to make home-made gifts and try to work out if you can dye the last dress you wore so no one will recognise it. Try to work out ways to hitch-hike to the weddings and stay at the wedding venue for free, in a tree or something.</div>
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7. <b><u>Plan everyone's Christmas presents</u></b></div>
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Because it's June, which in Irish Catholic family terms is December 10th. And that means making roughly 30 wonky but heartfelt Christmas gifts.</div>
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8. <b><u>Try and count the number of people you know getting married or having babies</u></b></div>
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Give up and watch cartoons instead to calm down the realisation that no one is horrified by the youth of your friends who are getting married/having babies because THEY'RE NOT THAT YOUNG AND NEITHER ARE YOU. Hide under duvet.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
9. <b><u>Make career plans</u></b></div>
<div>
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div>
Have to stop because you keep factoring in this job you're waiting to hear about and that is too dangerous</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
10. <b><u>Check your email about a million times</u></b></div>
<div>
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div>
Obviously not for the audition results. For other stuff. Like....uh....oh! A notification from Amazon that your new belt has shipped! That was it. Sure. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm a lost cause Reader....</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-45896093397033669972015-05-31T14:06:00.000-07:002015-05-31T14:23:11.208-07:005 Reasons To Wear Good Pants....Reader, I tried writing a blog post last week about what I'd been up to in the time since I last blogged and I had to stop because to be honest, I just sounded really smug, and I was pissing even myself off. So let's just say that I'm really happy at the moment and then there won't be complaints of people vomiting at their computers and throwing rocks through my windows. Instead I decided to talk about something really dear to my heart.<br />
<br />
Pants.<br />
<br />
Well, underwear to be specific. Not many people know this about me, but I am OBSESSED by lingerie. I probably own more lingerie than most people own entire outfits. Ever since I was about 16 and had teeny tiny boobs that didn't actually need a bra, and had no one to actually SEE my undergarments, I have preferred going on lingerie shopping sprees to any other kind of spending money type activity. When people find this out about me, they tend to assume I do it for men (at which my inner Boadicea snarls and sharpens her sword). They are very wrong. I would actually challenge anyone, Male, Female, Trans, Gay, Straight, Bi, Body Confident, Body Not-So-Confident, Single, Taken and all in between to wear great underwear for a month and see what change it brings in them. I think you'd be pretty astonished! And here's the thing, great underwear to you might not mean the full ensemble of garter belt, stockings, lace et al, it might mean a pair of superman boxers with a pretty bra, or those David Beckham kecks you've always side-eyed in H&M. Great underwear is the underwear you not only feel good and comfortable in, but the underwear that you would be quite happy to show excitedly to other people.<br />
<br />
And here are 10 reasons why it's great to do just that....<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Great underwear makes you walk a bit taller. You walk with a swagger because what you have under your clothes is your little secret. You could be wearing baggy joggers and an old top on the outside but the underwear that makes you feel like one hot tamale underneath will make you strut like you're in Prada daaalink. And sometimes we need that boost on a Monday in a scary meeting or meeting with that guy/gal you promised yourself you'd actually ask out for once. <img src="http://www.kappit.com/img/pics/201502_1603_aieea_sm.jpg" /></li>
<li>If you got hit by a bus, you wouldn't wake up cringing about the holey old nonsense you were wearing with Homer Simpson plastered all over them that had faded after too many washes. You could look your nurses in the eye. Yes you have to cut off my pants, but damn, aren't those pants INCREDIBLY AWESOME?! <img src="http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-11/11/17/enhanced/webdr10/anigif_enhanced-buzz-801-1415744377-21.gif" /></li>
<li>Unexpected sleepovers. Ok. Let's get real here people. In this day and age, hook ups happen when we least expect them. We're living in the era of tinder, an era where one night stands are as accessible as fast food, and people should not be judged for having healthy sex lives. But don't get caught out-if you always wear good underwear, you're far more likely to not have to turn down a night of romance for bad underwear reasons. Even if you end up choosing to share a bed with someone you've just started dating but decide not to do the deed, a great set of underwear under his T-shirt (or just a great pair of boxers) will make you feel classy as heck. People complain that liaisons are never like in the movies because 'who wears underwear like that all the time just in case?' N.B. some of us do. And it's AWESOME. <img src="https://msjacks.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/croppercapture18.jpg" /></li>
<li>Control that body. No but seriously. You know what really hurts going downstairs too fast? Boobs that aren't properly held in place. Bad bras do not protect you from droop and can cause rashes and bruises and stabby under wiring. Not so comfy. Wear underwear that feels good for you. Same for those with other equipment. Wear underwear that holds you securely in place and you're less likely to sit on....erm...things. Also less chance of cringey accidental displaying in shorts or thin jogging bottoms. From a very simplistic level, you should wear things that look after you. As if your bits are being hugged by your fairy-undies-mother. (pic related, owl is exactly how you should feel) <img src="http://dailypicksandflicks.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/cutest-owl-in-the-world.jpg" /></li>
<li>Underwear is, to put it frankly, brilliant. You can be displaying one face to the world with your outer garments and quite another underneath. Underwear is like a daily gift for yourself (and maybe for a significant other if you're so inclined) and should be treated as such! I have a friend who works in an office and due to office dress code has to don boring suits but has the most beautiful underwear collection ever because it's her way of sticking a finger up at the system (sure, put me in grey suits but underneath that I am all leopard print silk and you have NO IDEA). Buying underwear can give you an alter-ego no one knows about, a secret that gives you confidence-hell, with the right pants, you could be a superhero.<img src="http://cdn.fashionablygeek.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/f093_wonder_woman_boyshorts_panties.jpg?f187b0" /></li>
</ol>
<div>
Till next time Reader!</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-66608586790625203792015-03-01T11:59:00.000-08:002015-03-01T11:59:55.576-08:00Thoughts thunk from a sickbed...<br />
<img height="266" src="https://31.media.tumblr.com/2565eb6d03a1efd9cf90a02088d76b2e/tumblr_inline_nbdfr35fht1smpmpn.gif" width="400" /><br />
<br />
So Reader, I had planned to film a vlog today, but since I've been struck down by a pretty rancid coughing and vomiting bug (on my birthday week as well!) I've instead decided to write a blog post. Because I currently look like the girl from The Ring and no one needs to see that on a Sunday.<br />
<br />
THINGS THUNK FROM A SICKBED<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Will this ever end? No. This is eternal. I will be some coughing spewing demon for as long as I live.</li>
<li>I'm going to get so thin. I might even be able to pull off crop tops after this!</li>
<li>Hah, who am I kidding, Bette Davis wouldn't wear a crop top so there's no way I will</li>
<li>I may never eat or drink anything again (apart from water and day nurse). I don't even miss food right now.</li>
<li>(Post Lucozade and crisps) I FEEL ON TOP OF THE WORLD</li>
<li>(Half an hour later) Oh...no. No, that wasn't a forever feeling. Back to being a swamp creature.</li>
<li>I'm bored of sleeping. Is that even possible?</li>
<li>I wish my Partner In Crime was here. He could stroke my hair and watch Adventuretime with me!</li>
<li>Actually, I'm really glad he's not here. I can't do conversation right now and I look like something you'd find in unexplored parts of the ocean. Sexy.</li>
<li>I should tidy my room when I feel a bit better</li>
<li>Maybe I should throw away everything I own...my life would be so much less cluttered</li>
<li>But that would include my fifties dresses and books...no. Not happening.</li>
<li>I can't even remember what it feels like to not be ill.</li>
<li>I wonder what everyone else is doing today? Probably stuff that is more fun than hugging a bucket and planning deathbed speeches</li>
<li>I haven't been sick for hours. Maybe I'm better now! Maybe all my symptoms are psychological!</li>
<li>Wait, am I a hypochondriac? </li>
<li>Nah, I dislike being ill too much. </li>
<li>That coughing fit was harsh. Maybe I have consumption like Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge. </li>
<li>Oohhh Moulin Rouge. Is that on Netflix? </li>
<li>Seriously, do I have to have another day in bed tomorrow? Days in bed are only good if you've chosen to have them. Not if you are FORCED to be in bed. I want to vlog! </li>
<li>I'm all alone....ain't no one here beside me....</li>
<li>Ooh, a Buzzfeed post on Labour and Delivery stories! </li>
<li>I AM NEVER GIVING BIRTH.</li>
<li>There are no books I fancy reading, no films I want to watch and my arse of a phone has just reset Candy Crush. There is no hope for me. Pass the night nurse.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-31453878626710584292015-02-26T23:39:00.000-08:002015-02-26T23:40:18.725-08:00Mornings where you wake up all Disney...<br />
<img height="221" src="http://gifstumblr.com/images/waking-up-and-realizing-its-saturday_557.gif" width="400" /><br />
<br />
Reader, I am having one of those mornings where I've woken up with a smile on my face. I have one really swollen eye (I don't know why but it's really sore and I look a bit like Igor) but I still feel like Ariel when she wakes up in that plush bed in Eric's castle (only I've woken up in Primark sheets and a bed covered with unpacked clothes rather than royal crests and velvet) and she does a cute yawn and bounds around like a Labrador puppy.<br />
<br />
There may well be a few reasons for this: I've just had a stellar week that started with a lovely weekend of socialising and relaxing with the Partner In Crime and was then followed by us being guest lecturers at Falmouth University, working with passionate industry experts and inspiring students. It's also gloriously sunny this morning and I awoke to birdsong, which always puts a huge smile on my face-it feels like summer is finally starting to wake up again and I for one could not be more ready for it. What else? Well it's my birthday next week and I am terrifically excited-I'm planning to take the day itself off and sleep in and wear PJs all day (UTTER BLISS) and PIC has planned all sorts of surprises for me which no one has really managed to do before. Also my dress for the day we're going out has just arrived and it is slightly too big despite a week of terrible eating (WIN) but is also gorgeous and perfectly coloured. Tonight I'm taking my gorgeous mum to the theatre to see 'Women on The Verge of a Nervous Breakdown' for her birthday, and we always have a fabulous time when we go out! I think I also had nice dreams, because I woke up with that 'lovely sugar plums and dancing beans happened last night' feeling. I think it was something to do with the future and how delightful it's going to be, because I also had that zen, blissed sense that everything in life was going to be wonderful and sparkly.<br />
<br />
So if you see someone with a really swollen Igor eye skipping through London singing to themselves, don't be afraid-hyperactive mutants aren't taking over the city-it's just me getting on with my day.<br />
<br />
Hope yours is just as cheery Reader!<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-86262795049347143182015-02-23T03:56:00.000-08:002015-02-23T04:22:23.266-08:00The slow discovery that you're an expert...<img src="http://media.tumblr.com/fd23ea9932d55bacee9d7ab83e42ea3f/tumblr_inline_ngaejdPIrO1rj0wkw.gif" /><br />
<br />
Reader, something happened to me the other day which knocked me off my feet a bit. Someone referred to me as 'an expert in my field'. I laughed out loud, to which the person looked at me a bit blankly and asked what was so funny. Apparently because I work steadily as an actor, now have various private acting students and executive coaching clients and blog and vlog about it all, I am an 'expert'. You could have knocked me over with a feather Reader. Because today I am headed to Falmouth to work with their students as a visiting lecturer. That's right. I am being paid to shape young minds. Actually, some less young minds as well, since I'll also be working with the MA course.<br />
<br />
The thing is Reader, as I'm sure most people feel, even Obama or Julianne Moore, I'm quite sure I'm just winging it most of the time. I feel a bit like a fraud, like at any second someone might tap me on the shoulder and tell me that they know that I snuck into the whole acting thing behind security's back and I am SIMPLY TOO RIDICULOUS to be taken seriously. And then I'll be coaching someone, or get really passionate in a debate about acting and suddenly realise that I've said some things that make sense. Sometimes things that not only make sense, but that are quite interesting and helpful. Of course, this doesn't happen all the time. As my PIC and family will attest to, sometimes I try and put forward my opinion before I really know what my opinion is and it all goes horribly wrong.<br />
<br />
The thing is, this whole lecturing lark is exciting and I love that I might lend a hand in helping people grow as professionals but it feels like yesterday I was doing my BA and MA, generally feeling like I was way behind everyone else and unable to speak the same language. I remember so clearly going into my MA and realising that everyone else seemed so much more confident than I felt, women that had trained at film college, had already made their own award winning shorts, came from families that went to balls dressed in designer dresses, women that had industry contacts and petite (Hollywood friendly) bodies and one woman in particular who I couldn't take my eyes off when she got up to perform because she was so real (Interestingly that same woman is now a fabulous documentary maker and photographer-she channelled her skill in another direction and still creates wonderful work). Next to all those people I felt like a scruffpot 12 year old who had thought she might be a good actor because she played Mary in the school Nativity once.<br />
<br />
The biggest thing I learnt at drama school was that I was different to everyone else and that even though this sometimes earned me derision and snide comments, that wasn't a bad thing. My way into the industry wasn't through the same route as everyone else, it was to quietly work very hard, be a great person to have on set and a good friend to the crew. I learnt not to panic about the fact that my technical knowledge wasn't great, to ignore pointed remarks about my appearance and to give honest compliments that I really meant. I went from being a doormat to not holding back from critiquing people if I felt that they weren't giving as good as they could. I got a reputation in the jobs I did as being a genuine person who worked hard and left a good impression, both through my acting and my on set relationships, and slowly but surely my career has flourished. Every year that goes by I can chart improvements and new trajectories and although I still feel a bit like that 12 year old scruff pot and still have moments of 'Oh god, I'm a crap actor, why does anyone ever hire me', I also try and let myself be proud of how hard I work and the response I get from my audience.<br />
<br />
I've watched with great pride as my peers have gone from strength to strength too. Madeleine Sims-Fewer has become a wonderful film maker alongside her husband Nathan and it's a joy to watch their creations and her acting. Rhiannon Story has evolved into a bum-kicking producer of feminist work, who's theatre company The Thelmas is getting more and more coverage. Naziha Arebi (mentioned earlier) now creates startling work, stark photos, heartbreakingly honest articles and is a rising star in the world of international documentary making. And alongside those wonders are many more who have been inspirational to observe. I was lucky enough to work with two women in particular at Kent University (prior to drama school) who shaped the way I performed. Laura Pearson (otherwise known as Laura Lexx) who is now a writer and comedian, is also one of the most honest actors I've ever seen or worked with and was a bit of an unofficial mentor for me, as was Gemma Barrett, who still works as an actor but is particularly focused on overseas work. Gill Harker is a trooper who I have no doubt will be one of the known British rising stars of screen before the year is out. George Weightman carved a career for himself through graft and sweat, and I've been loving watching Hannah Webster emerge as a professional actress over the past year. Finally, of course, my old housemate and favourite curl queen Vicki Baron who I've watched transform into a wonderful writer and uncompromising director who I am proud to have worked with and to be working with in the future.<br />
<br />
So yeah. I'm going off to lecture at this uni remembering all of these wonderful peers of mine (some of whom I will undoubtedly have forgotten to mention then come back later swearing at my computer screen), and remembering our fresh faces and the fear in the pit of my stomach that I wasn't good enough to be working along side them when I started out. And maybe (just maybe) it'll help me be a bit understanding of the students I'll be working with this week.<br />
<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-79942127940141181902015-02-15T23:56:00.000-08:002015-02-15T23:56:20.839-08:00My shameful secret...<br />
<img src="http://media0.giphy.com/media/dLn4IvbTxzycU/200_s.gif" /><br />
<br />
Reader, I have something to confess. It's an unpopular view these days, one that others may sneer at or turn away from in righteous disgust. It might cause me to get shoes thrown at my head. The thing is....<br />
<br />
I love Valentines Day.<br />
<br />
I know what you're thinking, 'It's alright for her though, she's stonkingly in love!', well yeah, that's true, but I loved it when I was single as well.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing. Being in love on Valentines is amazing-this year my Partner In Crime and I spent the whole day together, just the two of us, which sounds fairly simple but given that we both lead such busy lives, it was complete heaven. We went to the cinema (no, not to see 50 Shades of Grey, we were all about Big Hero 6!), we ate bacon, we danced around the living room and drank wine while we cooked an Italian meal from scratch, we accidentally made each other the same present...it was without a doubt the best Valentines day I've ever had. But even when I was single I loved the day. When I grew out of the idea that Valentines had to be just for couples, I started spending the day doing things for myself. One year I treated myself to lunch at a cafe I'd always admired when walking past. Another year myself and curly one wrapped ourselves in duvets and watched When Harry Met Sally with a bag of doritos, diet coke and packs of cigarettes (I was still a smoker then). Last year we ate Chinese food and watched The Slipper and The Rose (best Cinderella adaptation EVER) and laughed our socks off.<br />
<br />
Heading towards PIC's the other day, it occurred to me that the only time I've ever been unhappy on Valentines day has been when I was unhappy in a relationship. Whenever I've been happy it one it's been grand (although this weekend definitely topped them all) and when I've been single I've loved it too.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's because my expectations aren't huge-at the ripe old age of 26 I've never had an anonymous Valentines day card, and I've never really been that materialistic. The concept that someone would have gone to the effort to make something or organise something for me is far more touching than any bunch of flowers or shiny bauble. Valentines cynics might say that the festivities encourage us to only show our love for someone on one day, but I disagree. I show my love for my partner as often as I can. Valentines is just another excuse to celebrate it-an excuse to turn off mobile phones, refuse plans and jobs, lock the doors and just be. Those days don't come round particularly often when you have busy lives, so we need to celebrate them while we can and use them as an excuse to indulge in having a real, honest to goodness day off.<br />
<br />
Hope your Valentines was wonderful Reader, whether your were single or taken for it!<br />
Ash<br />
x<br />
<br />
p.s. if you don't already, you can follow my vlogs here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/magenta/videos">https://www.youtube.com/user/magenta/videos</a>Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-20527952519900614402015-02-10T01:31:00.001-08:002015-02-10T01:31:11.095-08:00Hello 2015...Ok. So in all reality, I should have written this blog post in January, not *looks at calendar* MIDWAY THROUGH FEBRUARY?! Bloody hell Reader, what happened?<br />
<br />
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/mVoPr7Q.gif" /><br />
<br />
Ok, so 2015 has been ridiculous so far. Pretty much from the second day in I've been so awash with auditions, acting jobs, teaching jobs, coaching gigs, social life stuff etc that I've not even dyed my hair yet (I think I actually have more root going on at the moment than I ever have before...seriously, it looks like a bar of chocolate dipped in carrot juice). Add to that the fact that a huge proportion of people I love were born at this time of year and you have a very expensive, very busy chunk of time...and now I have roughly a kajillion hen do's to attend as well because I am now of an age where half my friends are getting married and the other half have taken up very expensive hobbies. Like having children.<br />
<br />
Saying that, I wouldn't have it any other way- we're both so busy and skint, the gorgeous boyfriend and I now don't feel guilty having dates where we refuse to leave the house (time spent in comfy clothes watching cartoons, cooking and playing each other music we used to listen to when we were young and stupid-or younger and more stupid-is utter bliss when our lives are so frenzied). I love having regular acting work and the projects I'm working on at the moment are interesting and varied. And of course, since I've been working so hard, I've felt no shame in booking two holidays for later this year!<br />
<br />
I am pretty stunned looking at my diary though. Every other weekend contains a wedding, a hen do or acting work. I have wisely booked my second holiday at the end of the wedding season (when Rob and I will be so full of cake, debt and booze that a week in Tuscany sunning ourselves and weeping gently into bowls of pasta will be required). I am actually quite impressed that I am of an age where not only am I perfectly able to book hotels, hen do's, travel etc for weddings, but that I also book my own holidays. When did that happen? I'm pretty sure last week I was blissfully unaware of the price difference between flying on a weekend in school holidays and flying in a time when no one wants to travel, and the only thing I had to worry about when going to a wedding was if I could remember all the moves to the macarena.<br />
<br />
It's looking to be a pretty fantastic year-loads of juicy acting jobs to sink my teeth into, a producer role on a film I'm very passionate about getting made, adventures to plan, family time to enjoy, friends to hang out with and celebrate massive events with and a man who not only loves me but also has taught me the joys of popcorn mixed with malteasers. 2015-I think we're going to get on.<br />
<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-49394667758937338942014-11-09T12:34:00.000-08:002014-11-09T12:36:10.621-08:00Earlier and earlier every year....<br />
<img src="http://cached.imagescaler.hbpl.co.uk/resize/scaleWidth/620/offlinehbpl.hbpl.co.uk/news/OKM/FE1DAC36-0246-B266-53E9D6CEF2B5A892.gif" height="267" width="400" /><br />
So Reader, if you've followed my blog for a while, it will come as no surprise to you that Christmas is my most favourite time of year. I get craft crazy, bake all the time, generally wander round with a face like a child in a Dickens novel who's just been given entry to a toyshop.<br />
<br />
To make sure I don't go too mad I generally instate a rule that I can't do Christmassy stuff before the 1st of December. Which means no Christmas music, food, films or decorating. Every year though, my addiction takes hold a little more, and I find excuses to get the season going earlier and earlier. Going to the annual Taste of Christmas fair with my gorgeous make up artist friend SJ (remember her? from<a href="http://ashactingup.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/another-cake-day-another-cake-blog.html" target="_blank"> the cake blogs</a>?) in late November now gives me an excuse to get outrageously excited a bit early. Going to my boyfriend's hometown to have Advent Sunday dinner with his family and old friends is also going to allow me to have mince pies in November (because it would be SO RUDE not to) and the fact that I have an enormous Irish Catholic family who keep having babies means I have had an excuse to start shopping and crafting since the first of November. Last year I spent a week filming in Portugal in December so I managed to convince my housemate that we had to decorate the flat in November so we'd still get the full levels of Christmassy vibes.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'll still be mostly sticking to my rules-no Christmas films before 1st December (and yes, that includes Christmas TV-re-runs of Kirsty Alsops homemade Christmas and Nigella's Christmas specials are like crack to me), no christmas music on the ipod before 1st December, no opening Christmas magazines (now sat tantalizingly at the end of my bed) no reading A Christmas Carol or putting a Christmas theme on my laptop....<br />
<br />
but...<br />
<br />
I may have already burnt a Christmas scented candle or three....<br />
and made Christmas pudding....<br />
and have my home made wreath on my bedroom door...<br />
and given my boyfriend a 'Christmas decoration starter kit' for his flat...<br />
and coerced him and also curly one to let me come and help decorate the second they want to feel Christmassy....<br />
And read all the Christmas catalogues from all the supermarkets and planned all the food (because they don't count...right?)<br />
<br />
Oh dear...<br />
<br />
Elf<br />
x<br />
<br />
Erm...I mean,<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-47101327377786626832014-11-04T05:40:00.000-08:002014-11-04T05:40:54.924-08:00Things that should be taught in sex-ed...Reader, the other day, a friend and I were laughing over drinks about how naive we were about sex as teenagers, and exchanging some of the ridiculous things we thought back then and urban legends our 15 year old selves had been convinced were true. It made me think a bit about how actually, I learned very little from my sexual health classes that could be put to good use (not helped of course by the fact that when I was having those classes, your contraceptive choices were limited to the pill, condoms or a coil and we were taught by a very nice lady going through the menopause who for some reason decided a group of 15 year olds really needed to know all the details of childbirth rather than the realities of sex.) If I were to go and teach a sex ed class (thank god this will probably never have to happen) of young women, there are certain things I would definitely make sure they knew. And because I am not particularly likely to do that, and because as far as I can tell, everyone is still being shy about all this stuff, I am going to ignore the British voice in my head going 'DON'T TALK ABOUT THIS STUFF' and actually tell you some stuff! Which may be helpful if you're a 15 year old girl. Or a 20 year old girl. Or whatever.<br />
<br />
<img height="168" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ7bdkldqLDn9vB865GlQi_XjCw2uL0XpLVWzbncmX1HuvsuJ-9Lg" width="400" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>Things we didn't learn from sex-ed classes, that might have been useful</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<ul>
<li>The majority of the time, the guy has no idea if he's got an STD, and you won't be able to tell either, so until you both get tested, keep it covered missy! </li>
<li>The pill may have side effects. No, not in the same way paracetamol says 'may cause dizziness', more like 'may make you want to eat literally everything, may give you crippling migraines, may make you a crazy person who cries or yells all the time, makes you fall in love with people that you would never normally fancy because of weird hormonal effects, stop you wanting to have sex which, let's face it is the SOLE purpose you're on the damn thing anyway'. If they try and give you microgynon say hell no. It is dreadful. None of my friends have had good experiences on it.</li>
<li>No you can't get pregnant by giving a guy a hand job in a jacuzzi</li>
<li>No you can't get pregnant by both being naked in the bath</li>
<li>No you can't get pregnant by hugging each other for a long time</li>
<li>Yes you can get pregnant even if he doesn't finish inside you. Stuff gets released even before that.</li>
<li>Look, this is a picture of what a real penis looks like. And here's an erect one. In fact, here is lots of photos, just to show how different they all are. </li>
<li>No, testicles don't have a hard skeletal casing.</li>
<li>No, penises don't have a bone, they get hard because they get a rush of lots of blood to them.</li>
<li>This also makes them change colour.</li>
<li>Yes they can break. Please be careful with them.</li>
<li>Here is a pamphlet about thrush and cystitis. If you are a woman who is having regular sex (or sometimes, because life is cruel, even if you're not and haven't got any in a long time) you will probably have both of these things. They are horrendous. </li>
<li>Boobs are weird. Seriously, don't worry about them. Just wear good underwear. </li>
<li>Periods are hell. Feminax is brilliant, hot water bottles are heaven, dark chocolate helps. </li>
<li>Oh my god guys, sex is SO MESSY. Like, SO MESSY. </li>
<li>There is no elegant way to deal with the mess.</li>
<li>Never feel ashamed for wanting to have sex. Wait till you are legal, and wait till you are emotionally ready and with someone who will treat you well, but never feel ashamed. It's a natural and wonderful thing. </li>
<li>Go and read erotica. Work out what turns you on. Porn is made mostly for men, and to be honest, it's not sexy. You might find erotic fiction better. Or sex scenes from The Postman Always Rings Twice or Cruel Intentions. Go, discover. Don't wait for your partner to tell you what to feel.</li>
<li>The implant is like a gift from god. Rare periods, no pills, less side effects. Heaven. </li>
<li>Sex is not just for pregnancy. Your teachers, nuns, parents, local priests etc may tell you otherwise. DO NOT BELIEVE THEM.</li>
<li>Ignore the awful 60's diagrams your science teacher will show you. Sex is not laying down, very very still. This is generally a much less fun way to do things.</li>
<li>You don't have to be in love with your sexual partner but it helps a LOT. Like, it's so much better it will BLOW YOUR MIND. However, you do have to definitely want to do it.</li>
<li>You can say no whenever you like, it is completely your right. Even if you are naked, even if you're already halfway through. The most important thing about sex is consent. </li>
</ul>
<div>
I think I'd better repeat that last one, because it's SUPER important:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ABOUT SEX IS CONSENT </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
You are the boss of YOUR body. I have heard too many stories recently about people only having sex because 'they felt they should' and saying that they had sexual encounters that weren't rape because 'I didn't say no' but felt pretty close. Say no. It is your choice, and your right. It is also your choice to go and have sex. Do not let people shame you, or make you believe having sex is something to feel bad about. You feel exactly how you want to feel about it, whether you choose not to go through with it, or you take that step. And talk about it. Ask questions. We are a closed off society sometimes, and we shouldn't be, because it means teenagers are afraid to be curious. There is always someone who will be willing to be honest with you if you are brave enough to ask the scary questions.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ash </div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-52053944623029076782014-10-15T20:30:00.000-07:002014-10-15T20:34:40.676-07:00Night shooting...<img height="300" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/DwMVSzxqGls/hqdefault.jpg" width="400" /><br />
<br />
Reader, it is 3.30 in the morning and I am halfway through my second night shoot in two nights. I am starting to go a little doolally. We're all that kind of exhausted where you end up having long discussions that go round and round and round, then you find yourself trapped in a discussion loop that you can't escape from. We've all just had burgers and mash, which felt weirdly indulgent in the middle of the night and we're slightly juddery from too much Diet Coke and coffee.<br />
<br />
I quite like the whole night shoot thing. I think. But you might have to ask me again when I'm actually awake, because I'm pretty much hallucinating pink elephants at this point.<br />
<br />
We're at the point of looking up people we fancy and trying to explain exactly why we fancy them to non-believers. The costume mistress and I have just been attempting in vain to justify our Domnhall Gleeson adoration to a confused male lead and first AD. Apparently the phrase 'I like men who look like serial killers till they smile, then they look like puppies' does not fully make sense. To be fair it is almost 4am and our brains are scrambled.<br />
<br />
Someone is in the hallway singing 80s rock and more than half of the crew are dangling off the balcony getting a nicotine fix as the rest of us just barely stay awake.<br />
<br />
Being this tired is a bit like being drunk, it makes me soppy and emotional and wanting to tell everyone how great everyone else is. I wax lyrical about my family, my cat, my boyfriend, my friends, my old housemate, my doctor, to anyone who will listen (or who will at least stay still for long enough for me to realise I'm monologuing).<br />
<br />
My belly is bloated with catering table chocolate and bread and I need to go to sleep, work out and have a green smoothie or ten. Outside the window, we have a view of Tower Bridge that you'd normally pay a fortune for-it's so stunning that every time one of us looks up we gasp, even though we're all dreaming of heavy duvets and soft pillows. It's times like this being an actor is wonderful, when the cast and crew have all bonded and are laughing over new in jokes, using a private language that will vanish with the packing away of the equipment and you're seeing and doing things most people can't even conceive. When you're all on the brink of tired, slightly hysterical tears but also excitably nervous to see the finished product and everyone looks a bit like a recovering drug addict, because let's face it, no one looks good at 4.30am.<br />
<br />
In another 3 and a half hours I'll be in my own bed, sleeping guiltily as everyone else rises.<br />
And I'll probably still want more chocolate.<br />
Ash<br />
x<br />
<br />
p.s. watch my new series of vlogs!<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIWeBCBiFRA&list=UUWi3iQSafsGNscaRTkW8u3w" target="_blank"> Letters to Autumn</a>Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-79210930162919306912014-09-22T16:48:00.000-07:002014-09-22T16:48:34.271-07:00Reasons I'm smiling....So Reader, yesterday I was on a train home, grinning to myself, when I overheard a lady kiss her teeth and say 'I don't know what SHE's got to smile about'. So I thought I'd share some things. In the hope that it infects. Maybe it'll get back to her and she'll not be able to help but use some of those face muscles! <div>
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<img src="http://images6.fanpop.com/image/articles/210000/disney-princess_210707_3.jpg?cache=1368628075" /><br /><div>
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<b><u>REASONS I AM SMILING GORMLESSLY</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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<ol>
<li>My train station is on a hill. Which means on my way home, I get to run down it, giggling to myself. I do this every time I come back alone, even if there are other commuters. It is JOLLY GOOD FUN.</li>
<li>I am getting to spend time with lots of my fabulous friends at the moment. Which I am LOVING.</li>
<li>Autumn/pre-christmas Winter is my favourite time of year, because of all the reasons in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxY2q_Gr1ss&list=UUWi3iQSafsGNscaRTkW8u3w" target="_blank">this video</a> and more. I also start my Christmas prep in October, with Christmas pudding making and starting to hand design Christmas presents for my non-adult relations.</li>
<li>Halloween is just round the corner and me and two of my favourites have come up with a BRILLIANT costume idea</li>
<li>I am having some adventures in non-Englandy places soon-4 days in Italy with the parents, then 4 days in Ireland with the Partner In Crime and I can't wait!</li>
<li>I am really excited about a new career path that will hopefully run alongside my acting/vlogging/writing work. And I'm feeling motivated about it! Which is all jolly nice.</li>
<li>I have discovered exercise is actually giving me more energy than usual and am actually ENJOYING working out four times a week ( I know, feel free to throw shoes at my head etc)</li>
<li>I am baking on Wednesday. I blooming love baking.</li>
<li>Guardians of The Galaxy exists. And for that we should all be grateful.</li>
<li>Everywhere smells of autumn at the moment-my room has orange and cinnamon candles burning, walking home from the station I could smell bonfires and damp and roast dinner smell eminates from every home. Lush.</li>
<li>Curly One has moved into THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GROWN UP HOUSE and it is only 20 minutes on the train from me. Which is just deliciously delightful. And I was able to help her move in, which made me happy.</li>
<li>I got to catch up with my beloved make-up artist/prosthetics guru SJ this week. Long time followers of this blog may remember that SJ and I used to do cake shop reviews here-keep your eyes peeled on my vlogging channel-this Christmas, we are potentially doing a short Christmas series! Cakes, crafts and canny behaviour...</li>
<li>School kids are back in school. Which means the streets are mine again! (I love having non conventional working hours...)</li>
<li>This year, long flowy coats are in fashion. Which means walking round pretending to be a Daphne Du Maurier heroine</li>
<li>I was introduced to THE GREATEST TEA PLACE today at the Leicester Square Arts Theatre. It's called Madd Hatter's, and they make Tea Lattes. In flavours so wonderful you'll want to cry, like candyfloss. And they have Oreo cake. And iced tea that tastes like it has a bucket of sugar in but actually only has one teaspoon per TEN SERVINGS. I may never leave.</li>
</ol>
<div>
Anyway my dear darling lovely Reader, I hope you have lots of reasons for smiling too-and remember-you're all reasons for me to smile too!</div>
</div>
<div>
Remember not to kick piles of leaves-hedgehogs like to sleep there</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-3457667301221174772014-08-31T05:00:00.000-07:002014-08-31T05:00:50.140-07:00Oh what a difference a year makes...<br />
<img height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/10599345_10100144274317751_6673511857522665823_n.jpg?oh=9e30b9315d6aa13f06fc1d5c78cd8ce1&oe=5477A975&__gda__=1416120336_52eaaac2dece8ebf37f8578f42db4c2e" width="320" /><br />
<br />
Reader, I am now officially moved out of Bag End. Which is a sad thing because I loved living with Curly One and having independence and a place I could invite lots of friends to without having to ask permission. But I am also moving back in with my family, who I adore, and frankly, I couldn't have afforded to live away for even a week longer so it's come at a perfect time.<br />
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<div>
Today, surrounded by boxes and piles of clothes going to charity shops, ebay and dry cleaners, I have been reflecting about the year at Bag End and all the things that have changed since I first moved in there. The big one is money-I went in with two grand in savings and I've left with £12.50 left at the end of my overdraft. We were paying far too much for Bag End, which was consistently on the brink of collapse, with doors breaking, a latch that kept slipping and locking us out, no insulation and old windows surrounded by rotting wood, but for us it was priceless. Much as I'm going to miss it though, I am very much looking forward to mending my coffers and getting back in my bank manager's good books. I've never been particularly good at not having money, it stresses me out more than most things to be unsure how I'm going to pay bills, and the constant praying I'll have been paid for one of my projects before another bill leaves my account. Which also partially prompted wanting to start as an acting coach, along with my camera based work with the brilliant young people at the Almeida Theatre, which shocked me with how much I enjoyed it. </div>
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<br /></div>
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When I moved in, I was also a stone lighter than I am now, having lost a bit of weight due to grieving after a big break up. A year of eating more cheese than I ever have in my life has amended that-I am now the fattest I have ever been. But I don't really care-now I'm back home (where cheese is not seen as something to be eaten with every meal like we did in Bag End, and where my healthy parents have a gym in the basement) I know that the weight will fall off me fairly naturally anyway, but more than that, I am far more at peace with myself than I ever was when I moved in. I accept my body for what it is, something that I need to look after, to listen to and to let rest when it needs to. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Speaking of heart break, I was very muted when I moved in. I cried often, I was terrified of where my life was going (how do you adjust when the future you had mapped out vanishes overnight?) I was single, the thought of dating made me seize up and I was pretty sure I would never fall in love again. Over the year I went on dates, discovered what I did and didn't like, not only in the men I dated, but in myself. I discovered that I was more able to ask people out than I thought, I was even asked out by others a few times. I learnt how to say no, that if you can't talk to someone then there's no point, that I'm not the kind of girl who can do casual. I learnt to love being single again, to love the excitement of a night out, to feel complete by myself. And just as I'd learnt to love spending time by myself, and that I didn't need a romantic partner, I went to an audition and got completely knocked off my feet by someone. So now I'm on a new adventure, being in a new relationship whilst living with my family, with someone who is just as creative, childish and romantic as I am. I am so smitten and excited about our adventures, I feel a bit like a teenager again!</div>
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Someone said to me recently that I was more like myself again. But I disagree. What Bag End has taught me is that I didn't need to look back to someone I used to be, I needed to find a new me-someone who took on all the lessons of the past but was able to accept that the future is a changeable form which probably won't ever turn out as you expect it to, but to enjoy all the twists and turns. I have my old sparkle back, yes. But I'm also stronger, more resilient and more willing to try new things.</div>
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When I moved into Bag End, Curly One and I toasted each other with tiny bottles of prosecco and talked about the year ahead of us. I said I wanted to do things that scared me, and I'm really proud to say I have. I've started to learn how to drive, I've begun vlogging, I gave up smoking (for the second, and hopefully final time), I've let myself become poor in order to do things important to me (like performing at Edinburgh), I've dated, I've eaten new things (Salmon, beef, dim sum and soft shell crab to name but a few!). Bag End, more than anything, gave me the space to grow. And I was lucky enough to do it with Curly One, who I have laughed with, cried with, danced with, quoted Eddie Izzard with and eaten more cheese with than I have ever consumed in my life. </div>
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So today, while I'm unpacking the rest of my boxes and drinking vast amounts of honey and lemon (I have a rotten cold), I will be thinking fondly of all the brilliant, unexpected and life changing things that happened to me during a year in a cold little hobbit hole in North London. </div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-7093059437108647742014-08-27T07:27:00.001-07:002014-08-27T07:27:41.048-07:00Thoughts thunk whilst packing...Dear Reader, I am moving. And this means I have spent a LOT of time this week packing up all my belongings and eating bacon with my fingers out of despair. Here are some things that have crossed my fevered mind in this time<br />
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<img src="http://www.hypeorlando.com/tiny-taster/wp-content/uploads/sites/26/2014/05/6ptcK.gif" /><br />
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<b><u>THOUGHTS THUNK WHILST PACKING</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I could just throw all my stuff away right? I mean, it's just STUFF. I don't need it-I could start a zen new life of not actually owning anything!</li>
<li>WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY FAIRY LIGHTS</li>
<li>How many forks do I actually need for the next week?</li>
<li>I haven't read this book!</li>
<li>I forgot I had this book!</li>
<li>Jesus, why do I have THAT book??</li>
<li>I have too many books.</li>
<li>What the fuck is that?</li>
<li>IS IT MOVING?</li>
<li>I think I may have packed myself into a corner...</li>
<li>But WHY can't I take my bed with me? I love it so!</li>
<li>I need a motivational soundtrack</li>
<li>SOMEONE BRING ME BOOZE</li>
<li>Maybe if I just lay down for five minutes...</li>
<li>SHIT, have run out of plastic bags to wrap things with!</li>
<li>Batman mask-storage or new bedroom? New bedroom. Obviously.</li>
<li>I have so many half finished moisturisers</li>
<li>Maybe I should combine them into one super moisturiser!</li>
<li>No. Now is not the time for inventions. </li>
<li>Oh shit. What clothes do I need...</li>
<li>Do I need clothes? Can I not just have a naked week?</li>
<li>I feel Vicki may not be too delighted to have a naked housemate, even just for a week.</li>
<li>WHAT IS LIFE EVEN?</li>
<li>Stay cool De'Ath, stay cool.</li>
<li>No but seriously, I'm going to throw away all of this stuff</li>
<li>All I will keep is a white kaftan and some sandals, I'll be like a little ginger buddah</li>
<li>I need to buy a white kaftan</li>
<li>Although it does get a bit cold in the winter, so a jumper too</li>
<li>And boots, for when it rains</li>
<li>And...oh bugger it, I'll just bring it all </li>
<li>Is that a fake eyelash? </li>
<li>NO IT'S A FUCKING SPIDER OH MY FUCK KILL IT KILL IT</li>
<li>Oh, no wait...just a broken make up brush</li>
<li>I have so much hoovering to do</li>
<li>I hate hoovering</li>
<li>I THOUGHT I HAD PACKED ALL MY STUFF HOW IS THERE STILL MORE STUFF</li>
</ul>
<div>
And then somehow, after a day of packing crates into a van, moving a kingsize mattress on my own and using powertools-I managed to trap my finger in a car door. So I am now cleaning my empty flat with a bruised and bleeding pointer. This is what you call skilfully clumsy.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Well Reader, I'm off to try and rid my flat of the spider squatters who have decided to take over our contact before we've even left!</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
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<br />Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-74836886169062187042014-08-21T19:52:00.000-07:002014-08-21T19:52:36.921-07:00Things that go through my head at 3.29am...Reader, it is 3.29am and I am still awake. There are a number of reasons for this. I had a nap today that ended up being a bit too long, I drank too much diet coke too late, I ate too much cheese and now have heartburn, I'm excited about a script idea I had (and then wrote the full script for) and my brain won't shut up. So here is a list of all the things that have been going through my head tonight as I've lain in bed.<br />
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<img src="http://static2.fjcdn.com/comments/I+don+t+fall+asleep.+I+do+++until+my+brain+_5d40d90f6b4086ac219deeb089bbf71a.jpg" /><br />
<br />
<b>Things thunk.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<ul>
<li>Maaaaan I shouldn't have eaten so much bad stuff today</li>
<li>But all that cheese was tasty. And the giant yorkshire pudding filled with yumminess</li>
<li>Although lunch alone was more calories than I should have in a day</li>
<li>Why am I thinking about calories? I'll just have a green smoothie day tomorrow</li>
<li>Maybe it's the green smoothies giving me heartburn</li>
<li>Who do I think I'm kidding? It's the cheese. I wish it wasn't. Bloody Boursin. Being all delicious. </li>
<li>I wonder how I'd look blonde?</li>
<li>I wonder how I'd look with blue hair?</li>
<li>I should get blue hair</li>
<li>Although that might slightly change my casting</li>
<li>Let's be honest, I'm not badass enough to be a punk girl</li>
<li>Quirky yes, punk, not so much</li>
<li>Was that a spider?</li>
<li>Nope, just a daddy long legs.</li>
<li>Shit. That's annoying. STOP BASHING MY COMPUTER SCREEN.</li>
<li>Who would I thank if I won a Bafta?</li>
<li>Twelve people and counting</li>
<li>I wish I could just wake up tomorrow with a driver's license </li>
<li>I've packed five boxes. Why does my room look messier?</li>
<li>Why is there a spoon on my floor?</li>
<li>Did I put it there for a reason?</li>
<li>Is the spoon there to remind me of something? Like a knot in a hankie? </li>
<li>I wonder if anyone apart from Granddad Ian still uses actual hankies...</li>
<li>I'm going to learn how to play the ukulele. </li>
<li>Crap, out of water AGAIN</li>
<li>Can't get up, too cosy. Besides, hallways are where the shadow monsters live</li>
<li>WHAT WAS THAT NOISE???</li>
<li>Damn boyfriend....living on the other side of London...</li>
<li>I really want some Millionaire's cheesecake</li>
<li>No. No more dairy. Poor chest.</li>
<li>Dairy is why I'm this curvy. I'm certain. My boobs are this big purely because of Wensleydale and Brie. </li>
<li>I need more boxes</li>
<li>How the fuck am I going to get my bed out of the flat? I'll have to dismantle it before it goes to its temporary new home</li>
<li>I COULD watch some more Dead Like Me on Netflix...Nah, save it for background noise tomorrow</li>
<li>Is it autumn yet? </li>
<li>I'm going to miss all my stuff</li>
<li>Need to apply for more work</li>
<li>If I had more work I could rent the cutest little studio flat...</li>
<li>Or a HOUSE if I lived in Yorkshire</li>
<li>But then I'd have to live in Yorkshire. I'd miss the city too much.</li>
<li>I bet my brother's awake</li>
<li>Best not to call him though</li>
<li>But I'm SO BORED.</li>
<li>Fuck. Nearly 4am.</li>
<li>Maybe I should try and sleep again.</li>
<li>I could sleep in a hammock right now</li>
<li>Mmmm....hammock....</li>
</ul>
<div>
And with THAT Reader, I feel able to try a doze....Goodnight! (or rather, good morning!)</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
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<ul>
</ul>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-57241105741675714462014-08-14T11:51:00.000-07:002014-08-14T11:53:08.502-07:00Why do weddings make us cry?So, as you guys know, The Bride recently did something rather incredible-she got hitched! And it was the wedding of a lifetime! A gorgeous manor that looked like something straight out of a period drama, so much good food that I felt like I'd eaten more than I'd had in weeks, she looked like a princess, he glowed with pride when he caught her eye, we all danced to a live band and I taught a bunch of people to headbang. It was lovely. And there were lots and lots of tears.<br />
<br />
I cried watching her get into her dress, I cried when she couldn't help but kiss her soon-to-be husband as soon as she got down the aisle, I cried as they exchanged their vows and I cried during the speeches. I welled up giving her the book me and her other oldest friend had compiled for her, I shed a tear when we chased her bridal car down the road. Everyone cried at the groom's speech, and then again when we did the bridesmaids' speech. I couldn't express how happy I was without welling up.<br />
<br />
So what is it about weddings that make us get misty eyed?<br />
<br />
Well I've noticed the crying thing has only come about as I've got old enough for my friends to start getting married off. Now don't get me wrong, these aren't sad tears-nope, anything but! They're happy tears, proud tears, overwhelmed tears. They're tears which are hopeful for the couple but also hopeful for yourself.<br />
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<img src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maxkj953y71qi17ru.gif" /><br />
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The thing is, unless you're not a believer in marriage, the wedding day is like this really awesome chance to celebrate love. And what's so bad about that? You get to shout from the rooftops how important that person is to you. It's like saying to that person-'You are it. You're my best friend, my family and the person I want to share my bed with forever and a day.' And that's a huge deal. Marriage isn't something to be entered into lightly, you do it because you know that the person you're meeting at the end of the aisle is someone you don't only want in your life forever, but that you need. Which is why divorce is such a terribly sad thing.<br />
<br />
Watching friends you've watched grow up get married is incredible. You see it all in your head-what they looked like when you were kids, arguing about who would get your period first, that time you designed your dream dresses (and laughing to yourself as you compare her incredibly stylish and elegant ivory gown with her old vision of a turquoise monstrosity with sequins and puffy sleeves, topped with a tiara...eight year old's visions of wedding dresses are fairly Big Fat Gypsy Wedding-esque), confiding in each other about your first kisses and talking about what you wanted to be when you grew up. You remember teenage angst, and worries over spots, greasy hair and the boys that didn't like you back, and you then you watch as it all melts away and your friend, that same one who used to wear owl-like glasses and play with furbies, turn into royalty. And it's not the dress that does it, it's not the big venue, the presents or throwing the bouquet. It's love. I've never seen The Bride look so beautiful as she did when she looked at her new husband, or glow quite so much as she did with pride when he gave his speech.<br />
<br />
My tears were out of pure happiness-because the little girl I played Tomb Raider and hopscotch with was a woman. And that day, I saw her whole future in front of her-the ups, the downs, the laughter, the tears, the late nights and the early mornings. And I knew all of it would be ok, because she'd be doing it all with a partner in crime who knew her better than anyone, loved her more than anyone and wanted her happiness more than anyone. It's a weird sensation when you realise that you're not your oldest friend's port of call any more, but when you're handing over to someone who loves them that much, it's also one of the best feelings in the world.<br />
<br />
So, to The Bride and her lovely new husband- with all my heart I wish you that long, wonderful future.(I promise next time I see you both I won't cry. Well, probably.)<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-9912895596134776262014-08-11T00:21:00.000-07:002014-08-11T00:41:21.161-07:00The lost romance of coaching...<div class="MsoNormal">
Reader, I am back from 11 days performing at the Edinburgh
Festival. What an experience! Getting in before 2am of a night was impressively
puritanical, finding food that wasn’t beige and deep fried became a fun new
game, as did booking shows that started ten minutes after another ended, but
that were 20 minutes away. I slept on a mattress topper in a room with 3 other
girls, and felt lucky that I had so much space to stretch out. I saw shows that
made me laugh, shows that made me cry and shows that made me question if maybe
the creator’s parents hadn’t been a bit too kind about their efforts. I used
Skype for the first time and sent postcards to someone important who was still
in London, when my parents visited I begged them to take me somewhere, anywhere
where I could even look at a bit of lettuce. I drank shots from test tubes, did
Jagerbombs, had a cocktail so strong my eyes hurt and a hangover so awful that
we introduced a new method of flyering that involved laying on the floor. We
almost sold out and then had a two person audience (who were bloody brilliant
and apparently thought our show was the best thing they’d seen). My shoes fell
apart in the rain, my clothes went through a wash yet somehow are STILL all
stinky and have bits of booze and toothpaste on them and I overheard someone
utter the eternally brilliant phrase ‘that man was just too Scottish’.
Edinburgh, I shall miss you. On top of all of this was the beauty of the city,
the meadows (which I fell in love with walking through alone with music playing
in my ears first thing in the morning (by which I mean 11am) and last thing at
night (4am), the laughter, the music, the magic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then. Then, dear, beloved reader, came the eight and a
half coach journey home. Which I am still on as I write this. I am two and a
half hours into it in fact. The heating by my feet is making my ankles sweat,
the un-turn-off-able air condition above my head is giving me brain freeze and
somehow, the whole bus already smells a bit of wee. Thankfully no one on here
is drunk, and the inevitable two year old (who brings a two year old on a
coach? Seriously?!) has yet to make a peep. However it is past midnight, and
having already slept for an hour of the journey, my neck is in pain and my
lower back is so squished I’m sure I’m going to be walking like Smeegol when I
get off the damn thing. The reading light doesn’t work and really, shouldn’t
all overnight coaches have plugs and beds by now? I thought it would be a
little like the Knight Bus in Harry Potter but it’s actually just like a normal
coach only full of hungover festival goers and with less lighting. I need to
learn how to drive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On this particular coach, we have the enormous family of 6
(with toddler) who don’t seem to understand where they’re going or what a coach
is, a group of Chinese students who instantly annoyed the British contingent by
not understanding queueing (cue instant tutting), some French performers who
have already had a passionate row and complained to the driver, a large woman
who won’t stop eating, a small man who keeps rushing to the loo (I don’t want
to know), some really grumpy stand ups and a girl who has been quietly but
audibly crying since we left the bus station. Or laughing very oddly. It’s sort
of hard to tell. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone else on the coach appears to be asleep or meditating
in the dark, but after two weeks of only sleeping at 3am at the very earliest,
I want to read my book or have a conversation. If I was still in Edinburgh I
would probably be at a show right now. Or a bar. Or at the flat having a Skype
date. But instead I am writing this blog entry. Which won’t go up till
tomorrow, when I am face down in my bed. I cannot wait to be face down in my
bed. I actually changed the sheets before I came out to Scotland in
preparation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, my laptop is running out of power and I reckon I
might give sleeping another go-although being the only one on the coach awake
makes me feel pleasingly like the badass kid in Battle Royale.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Have a fabulous day not on a coach Reader!<br />
Ash <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
x<o:p></o:p></div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-8564520098480601202014-08-03T01:01:00.000-07:002014-08-03T01:05:42.692-07:00Hoots mon! (etc. etc....)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QSbcljlIBFxgaFuNX0jEQokoM0tKgX-V4Zjo87IeuxMsuu1KnUEzAev65OcsGNTWNUK2O8JUMDcZh1x4Y21IOGrveOJnIg8A5__AtMdk-U_j9PWjJSKsHZQxJbJvmPgfan_Cm3IBCwY/s1600/chris+is+dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QSbcljlIBFxgaFuNX0jEQokoM0tKgX-V4Zjo87IeuxMsuu1KnUEzAev65OcsGNTWNUK2O8JUMDcZh1x4Y21IOGrveOJnIg8A5__AtMdk-U_j9PWjJSKsHZQxJbJvmPgfan_Cm3IBCwY/s1600/chris+is+dead.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Well Reader, it is 8am on my third day at The Edinburgh Fringe and the sun is shining! Which is very exciting, because yesterday I was flyering in the rain all day and ended up having to buy an incredibly attractive mould coloured cagoule and some sensible shoes. And you know how I feel about sensible shoes.<br />
<br />
So far I've been trying not to go too crazy at the fringe because a) I'm skint and b) I really don't want to make myself ill. Saying that, the first night here I stayed up till 4am drinking and reminicing with long-lost university friends after their show (The Noise Next Door at The Pleasance Venue 2, doing their Comedy Lock In-go see it, bloody fantastic), which was awesome but made yesterday's flyering doubly hard. Today I have had a full eight and a half hours sleep so am feeling more ready to face the day with a smile on my face and a skip in my step.<br />
<br />
Audience feedback has started coming in about the show and so far it's been amazing-one person described it as 'the best thing I've seen. Wept like a baby' and we've had loads more like that. We overheard an audience say, as they left the space yesterday 'That was so fucking good!' which made all of our days. Long may it continue!<br />
<br />
I haven't seen many shows so far, but today I'm going to change that with one this morning and another after a launch party I'm going to. Then I'm rather intending to go drink cocktails and sing karaoke if I'm entirely honest...<br />
<br />
So far I have discovered the following about the fringe<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>You will probably find it hard to eat healthily-everything is deep fried and DELICIOUS. My favourite thing so far has been a crepe with cheese and peperoni...mmmm...</li>
<li>The Mile is intense. Think hundreds of drama students with hangovers. Some really cynical comedians who won't do flyer swaps, a dotting of incredibly young students who can't quite believe they're there, a terrifying duo in white clown make up and inevitably someone pretending to be crazy dressed in period clothes.</li>
<li>There are NO POST BOXES. It took me an hour and a half to find one yesterday! </li>
<li>The free fringe has some blooming brilliant stuff on it. Today I'm going to see a comedian who (like us) is supporting Death on The Fringe who we saw an excerpt of on my first day. She talks about the love of her life dying and her coping with it (she's only 33) and it is the most hilarious, tragic, bittersweet stuff I've ever seen. Will be bringing tissues and fresh make up.</li>
<li>I am very good at flyering. I am quite smug about this. Scratch that. I am HUGELY smug about this.</li>
<li> I am already a little bit homesick for my local giant 24 hour Asda-Tesco express doesn't really cut it</li>
<li>I should not hug friends just before they go on stage, because I will inevitably spill my drink on them (sorry Tom Livingstone!) making me look drunk even when sober. Scotland has done nothing for my hand-eye coordination it seems.</li>
<li>I get lost very easily. Yesterday, not only did it take me almost 2 hours to get home (usually a 30 min trip), I also go disorientated on The Mile and forgot which end my theatre was at...</li>
<li>Drinks are brilliantly cheap. Dangerously cheap.</li>
<li>Sleeping on a mattress topper on the floor actually isn't too uncomfortable</li>
<li>Sometimes you'll be half an hour into conversation with an eccentric when suddenly you realise that they're in character.</li>
<li>Lots of tourists come to Edinburgh during the Fringe to NOT watch theatre or comedy. They are clearly eegits. </li>
<li>There is a ghost bus here. I want to go on it SO MUCH.</li>
</ul>
<div>
More updates to come (unless my liver implodes and I get scurvy or trench foot)</div>
<div>
Ash</div>
<div>
x</div>
Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-39621224268532087902014-07-30T03:28:00.001-07:002014-07-30T03:28:17.719-07:00Fringing...Well Reader, here we are. In a couple of hours I'm getting picked up by the other bridesmaid and we're off to the wedding site, tomorrow I'm bridesmaiding all day and friday I fly to Scotland for my first night performing on The Fringe (sans Tech run, which is happening as I'll be giving a speech for my oldest friend over the wedding breakfast). I have so much to do that my brain has shut down-packing has turned into 'just shove some stuff in a bag and hope for the best', I have to do washing up, drying up, fridge emptying, emptying all the bins and change my sheets so when I arrive home at 7am after an all night coach I can just faceplant into bed. Oh, and I'm in the midst of trying to get in touch with our letting agent to prep for the big move back home. Which is proving bloody impossible.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.survivingcollege.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/No-Sleep-Adventure-Time-GIF.gif" /><br />
<br />
So what am I doing? Blogging. Of course! I've also spent a large chunk of this morning sorting out my YouTube accounts-essentially I'm setting up a new one for just my acting stuff and auditions which you can see<a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC6u1jvmWUHjuGmF6Od9tomA" target="_blank"> here </a> to compliment my usual <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWi3iQSafsGNscaRTkW8u3w" target="_blank">vlogging channel</a>. I've also been dealing with some less nice stuff. I filmed a vlog about feminism the other day, which has got a mostly lovely response. In it I talk about some of the reasons why I think we still need feminism and some of my not-very-nice experiences being a woman. And how most feminists love men too-we just want to be equal to them in the eyes of the world and be treated fairly. Which isn't a very drastic thing to say, but I've spent a while deleting comments and banning people from my channel for sending me and my viewers rape threats, calling me an 'ugly bitch' for having a perspective and calling my lovely regulars (not all of whom agree with me, but who all share their views in a reasoned, respectful and intelligent way) derogatory names. Why do we need feminism? Because a girl can't share her views without people telling her they'll share her home address with convicts and rapists apparently.<br />
<br />
Don't worry though, I'm not letting that get me down. Because trolls aren't worth my time. Tomorrow I get to see my oldest friend get married to the love of her life, a man who looks at her like she's rare and wonderful (which, of course, she is), I'm off to Edinburgh with a cast of people I love spending time and acting with, and I spent yesterday kissing someone incredible as the sun set across The Thames. Beats some nasty little boil sitting squawking abuse at their computer, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
Life is actually rather beautiful at the moment. And I feel really lucky to be living it. (Even if I STILL haven't finished packing...oh bollocks...)<br />
See you in Scotland Reader!<br />
Ash<br />
xAsh http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-69252743676930688812014-07-25T15:46:00.000-07:002014-07-25T15:46:32.999-07:00The perils of being part sloth...Reader, were you to meet me in real life, you might be fooled into thinking that I am an energetic lass with buckets of get up and go. You would be wrong. I am incredibly busy, yes, and constantly doing stuff, but buried deep beneath all the meetings and auditions and international jobs and projects is a sloth whinging that 'I JUST WANT TO STAY IN BED AND BE FED PIZZA AND HAVE SOMEONE SCRATCH MY BACK'. For, dear Reader, I am a secret lazy bint.<br />
<br />
If given the choice, I would always choose to stay in my cosy flat with a delicious meal and a pile of books bigger than my head over going out to a cooler than cool event where I have to schmooze. Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of a schmooze too, but I am so rarely in my home, that the chance to be in front of my telly in my pants with my home made aubergine bake in front of me and an episode of Friends on the telly is just a dream come true.<br />
<br />
So this evening, the first evening in a kazillion years when I've actually been in and able to cook a beautiful meal (pasta made out of courgettes in garlic and basil, chicken stuffed with mozzarella and sun dried tomatoes and drizzled with pesto in case you were wondering...) and 3 episodes of Friends later, I am feeling a little guilty about not having done any work or any tidying (I've been out so often of late my room is a rubbish dump with a small space for me to sleep in), I thought I'd share with you some of the struggles of being half sloth and a quarter mattress (on top of my quarter human obviously).<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">SLOTH GIRL STRUGGLES</span></b><br />
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<img src="http://s3-ak.buzzfeed.com/static/campaign_images/webdr02/2013/2/17/19/matty-the-baby-sloth-is-a-romantic-1-18513-1361145664-0_big.jpg" /><br />
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<br />
<ol>
<li>Mornings</li>
</ol>
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<img height="360" src="http://media.portable.tv/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/hocus-pocus-portable.gif" width="640" /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Oh mornings. These days I set three alarms because my bed is SO COMFY, leaving it makes me die a little inside. It's summer at the moment and when I see sun shining in in the morning my first thought is 'Oh, what a beautiful day!' and my second is 'I have NO EXCUSE to stay in bed. Arses.' My favourite kind of day is a day where I have nothing to do and it's pouring down with rain. This hasn't happened for about a year, but even so. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. Eating healthily</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<img src="http://www.reactiongifs.us/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/feed_me_little_shop_horrors.gif" /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, as you might have remembered from previous posts, I am a rather fantastic cook. I can whip up traditional and innovative recipes that will make your head spin so fast you'll get whiplash. But because I'm really really lazy, my current favourite dinner is a cheese string and a bowl of ice cream. Thank god for green smoothies, I'd definitely get scurvy otherwise...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
3. When people tell you they're in the area and are going to drop in</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<img src="http://static.playhousesquare.org/images/events/spotlight_cinema_psycho.gif" /> </div>
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<b><br /></b>
One big issue I have with being a sloth girl is that my bed very quickly becomes the epicentre of everything. It is my desk, my dressing table and my library. And because, at the moment I am so horrendously (but in the nicest way possible) busy, I have no time to clear it all up. Nor do I have time to tidy the kitchen. Or put on a clothes wash. So when people 'just drop in' it's like panic code red and all of a sudden some very creative 'mess hiding' comes into play<br />
<br />
4. People thinking I'm super feminine when I'm actually not<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.helloluvvy.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/sarah-silverman.gif" /><br />
<br />
You know why I wear dresses? Because it's only one piece of clothing. Less to wash, less to coordinate and people think I'm FANCY. Know why I have long hair? Because I'm a lazy fucker and cutting and stying takes forever. Also partly because I can whip it back and forth. (Just whip it)<br />
<br />
5. Stairs<br />
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<img height="364" src="http://weknowgifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/cat-rolling-down-stairs.gif" width="640" /><br />
<br />
Much like a sloth, I am lazy, clumsy and do not have lots of control of my limbs. Stairs are not my friends.<br />
<br />
6. Exercise<br />
<br />
<img height="359" src="http://31.media.tumblr.com/67d330e11fca4589f7d42c562f7a9de7/tumblr_mqnuatSxPW1sp9fcho1_500.gif" width="640" /><br />
<br />
When I do exercise, I am genuinely exasperated that I am not instantly a toned size 8. If I do exercise once a week, I'm so smug that I have issues containing it. A friend of mine who has my ideal figure told me she worked out four times a week for an hour each time. WHO HAS TIME FOR THAT? I'll stick with being a bit lumpy thanks...<br />
<br />
7. Thinking one of my arms is a branch, reaching for it then falling to my death<br />
<br />
<img height="375" src="http://www.gearfuse.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Shocked-Sloth.gif" width="400" /><br />
<br />
Oh no....wait, that's real sloths...<br />
<br />
I bloody love sloths.<br />
<br />
Anyway, hope you're well Reader! I'm in bed. Predictably.<br />
Ash<br />
x<br />
p.s don't forget to check out my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/magenta/videos" target="_blank">vlogs! </a>Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4369344098323501615.post-4820768404725791542014-07-22T00:48:00.000-07:002014-07-22T00:48:21.067-07:00Not every first kiss is a First Kiss...So Reader, I was recently told that my high expectations for a first kiss were pretty terrifying. This is fair. I expect great things from a first kiss, and if they're not great, I tend to lose interest fast. But it was while mulling this over that I realised something-not every kiss is a First Kiss.<br />
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<img src="http://i.imgur.com/KqnmjTA.png" height="166" width="400" /><br />
<br />
Ok, so hear me out. When you kiss someone for the first time, sometimes it's one of those kisses that just doesn't make something click inside you. And you realise that you probably won't be kissing them again after today. Those kisses cannot be classed as First Kisses, since they are also (at least in part) last kisses. They don't mark the start of something that might carry over into another day, week, month or year. It's not a kiss that you'll remember 10 years down the line, when you're kissing them on your way to work or when they bring you a cup of tea done just right. It's a first kiss. Not a First Kiss.<br />
<br />
So what constitutes a First Kiss? Because a first kiss lowercase is not the same as a First Kiss uppercase.<br />
<br />
A First Kiss is the beginning of something new. It's that moment where you are stepping off a cliff because you're 65% sure there's a bouncy castle at the bottom of the fall. It can only really be judged in hindsight-if you can't remember your First Kiss then why did you have a second? A First Kiss does not have to be perfect (contrary to my high expectations), it just has to make you want to kiss the person again and again. A First Kiss shouldn't be really tricky, it should be something that you want to tell passers by about 'Oh, excuse me-I just had this INCREDIBLE kiss' and then they should applaud. That should be a thing. When I am Emperor of the Universe I shall make it so.<br />
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A First Kiss doesn't have to be the beginning of a long term relationship-but it can be the start of something else, the First Kiss of an adventure abroad, or of a fling you'll remember for the rest of your life.<br />
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Your First Kiss should be on the DVD constantly playing in your brain of your top ten relationship best bits. Maybe your top 20 if you've had a particularly interesting life. Because some kisses are meant to be held on to and replayed over and over.<br />
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A First Kiss should be so good that a brilliant song plays in your head<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lK4cX5xGiQ" target="_blank">although possibly not THIS song</a><br />
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But more importantly, a First Kiss should be perfect even if it's not. Because it's with the right person, who enjoyed it just as much (and hopefully also wants to kiss you lots more).<br />
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I hope you have some truly brilliant First Kisses Reader!<br />
Ash<br />
x<br />
p.s. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/magenta/videos" target="_blank">Don't forget to check out my vlogs! I release a new one every Tuesday and Friday!</a><br />
<br />
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<br />Ash http://www.blogger.com/profile/07291664800712080855noreply@blogger.com0