In which I go back to class...

Reader, I have started going to a weekly acting class.

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.

What I hadn't expected were the nerves.

Nor that the nerves would be about meeting my classmates.

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.

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.

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.

And just like that, I love being an actor again.
Ash
x

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 link if you fancy having a wee gander

Fanciful 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.

The first thing I ever baked in my current flat

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).

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.

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).

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.

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).

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)

So what's the moral of this blog post?
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.
Ash
x

The slow discovery that you're an expert...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Ash
x

Why 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.

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.

So what is it about weddings that make us get misty eyed?

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.



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.

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.

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.

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.)
Ash
x

It's just (just) a little crush (crush)...

Hey Reader! How are you today? Gosh, isn't that a smart outfit you have on?

Reader, I'm in a good mood at the moment. Why's that? Well, I have the beginnings of a bit of a crush, and whether it comes to anything or not, crushes are lovely things to have.

'But Ash!' (I hear you collectively cry) 'Crushes are terrible things! They could mean unrequited love! Pain! Anxiety! Stress-sweating!'

Calm yourself Reader. Deep breaths. Chill the fuck out.

If you let yourself get hopelessly lost in the crush, well, yes. There is the chance of all of the above happening. Or the crush might be mutual and you might end up getting to have kisses under the moon and stars (see previous blog entry for my aforementioned romance-addiction). Or the crush might just fade when you find out the person picks their nose, or snorts, or votes BNP *shudder*.

The joy of a crush is that you don't know which of the above is going to happen. You get excited when they contact you (particularly if you haven't instigated the contact), you find yourself wearing the good knickers (just in case you get run over by a bus in their company, obviously. n.b. why is this a thing? My gran always told me to wear good undies in case I got hit by a bus, but I feel like if I was hit by a bus a) my clothes probably wouldn't fly off my body and into a neat pile by the side of the road and b) I'd probably have slightly bigger worries), you have dreams where they make a move on you (which, at least in my case, are always vaguely like an episode of Friends. Or Buffy. Or Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog-Neil Patrick Harris, I will wait for you till you're reincarnated into a body that likes lady bits. Promise), you blush when they're mentioned as if people magically can see into your brain and watch said dreams, you find random, insignificant things that you have in common ('LOOK! I FROWN WHEN I READ TOO!') and lots of other brilliant but odd stuff. And crushes have enormous health benefits!



1) I've just seen a face...

When you have a crush, you don't release as much cortisol, so your skin is clearer! How fabulous is that?!



2) Unbreak my heart

Having romantic feelings toward someone decreases your blood pressure and heart rate! (even though it can sometimes feel like it's going to burst out of your chest...Particularly whilst playing footsie or when you're THAT CLOSE to kissing)




3) Everybody hurts

Crushes release similar drugs to pain meds, so aches and scrapes hurt less! Don't believe me? Check this report on the very subject!



4) Sweet like chocolate boy

When you're lusting after someone and you have a suspicion they feel the same way, everything tastes sweeter-which is partly why people tend to gain a little weight in happy relationships. It's all good though, it's happy chub! And it makes food taste gooood. (even the veggie smoothies that I'm currently making myself)



5) Then I got high, then I got high, then I got high

A crush can make you have a reaction similar to getting high-it releases large levels of dopamine into your brain, which make you feel all good. It's a pretty addictive feeling! (And may explain why I'm so dopey around people I fancy)



6) I see the want to in your eyes

Last but not least, when you're around someone you LIKE like, your eyes get all huge and sparkly. Your pupils dilate, giving you the sort of eyes craved by most anime-enthusiasts!




The thing about crushes, Reader, is that we don't enjoy them enough whilst we have them. And then we spend the rest of the time complaining that our love lives are dull. So go! Enjoy your crushes! Just remember that they're not the be all and end all-that title belongs to Asian food, Netflix and how many colours you've painted your nails today.

Cheerio Reader!
Ash
x

Vive La Smug...

Reader, in the past year or so, me and one of my favourite girls, Lady Luxe, have come up with a new way of living. It's a very un-British way of approaching life, but we rather like it. So here it is:

Vive La Smug.

Confused? Don't worry, I'll explain.

So, last year was pretty intense for both Lady Luxe and I. We both went through pretty big break ups, lost a lot of self confidence and worked ourselves into the ground. I gained weight and she got scarily thin (amazing how stress can affect people in different ways!). So when we came out the other side, we decided to use our experiences to improve our lives. It all started after she finally ended things with her ex. We went out for a night, just before Christmas and had sushi, went to a night market and then got drunk on a boat, dancing under the stars in full view of the London skyline. As we danced, we laughed and laughed, suddenly feeling the weight of the world leave our shoulders. We had jobs we loved, were living in one of the greatest cities in the world, wearing the highest of heels and the kookiest jewelry. We were going on dates and planning adventures. I turned to Lady Luxe and grinned. 'We are SO BLOODY SMUG!' I yelled, jubilantly. 'Vive La Smug!' she responded, and we broke down in giggles again.

Normally, being smug is seen as a bad trait-but why shouldn't we be? We are normally incredibly self deprecating, we spend our lives doing things for other people and work really flipping hard-we deserve a bit of a smug glow when things go well!

And now it's become a life philosophy. Instead of being effacing about our successes in life, we text or call each other and proclaim 'Vive La Smug!'. The cause for the smugness could be anything, but most of the time it's stuff that we imagine would happen to women in novels-getting a promotion, having a particularly wonderful date, getting a great compliment, having a night out that was just too cool for school-any success that makes us feel delightful.

Because life is too blooming short to not be smug about the fact that you got taken dancing and kissed under the stars, or got cast in a film, or mistaken for Paloma Faith twice in one day (this has started happening with alarming frequency of late. I have decided to take it as a compliment and not a suggestion that my wardrobe is slightly too kooky). I always say 'This is one to tell the grandkids' But what if I don't have grandkids? What if I step in front of a bus tomorrow? I need to enjoy the good stuff while I can! Otherwise, it's all a bit pointless really isn't it?

So my lovely Reader, go forth and embrace the smug!
Ash
x

The three stages of breaking up...

So Reader, last night was a bit unexpected. I'd just got back to my lovely cosy Bag End when I had a call from Lady Luxe, who had just had the unpleasant experience of seeing her twatbag of an ex boyfriend and moving her stuff out of his house. Then another call came in from Little Socks who had just broken up with her partner. Within a couple of hours I had two newly single girls on my couch, a bottle of vodka and every kind of chocolate under the sun in front of us, and a combination of laughter and tears occurring every couple of minutes.

Frankly it was a bit overwhelming. But also quite interesting. Between us we had three different stages of going through a break up and each of us had a very different break up story and emotions connected to them.

FIRST STAGE

You've only just broken up. You can't stop crying, everything in the world reminds you of what you've lost ('There's some cheese. Barry liked cheese. Oh god, we'll never share cheese ever again!') and you feel like you've been punched. A lot. Your face has swollen up so much that your eyes are no longer visible and you can't quite catch your breath. Thinking even a week into the future seems nigh on bloody impossible. You can't bring yourself to eat, you smoke a million cigarettes and drink anything you can get your hands on. Listening to music or watching anything but gory horror films just isn't going to happen. You'll be having a perfectly normal conversation and then you'll just start hiccuping and sobbing.

SECOND STAGE

Fuck them. The utter wankers. How dare they do this to you?! You're going to meet other people. Better people. You'll be this amazing single person who goes and has really intense flings with french supermodels who smoke exotic sounding cigarettes and paint in trendy Shoreditch attics. It's been a month or two and you don't miss them at all. You rock at being single! (apart from the fact that you do really miss them and you struggle not to call them when you're drunk or down and you can't listen to certain Bruno Mars songs without having an epic nervy b). You're vaguely hyper ALL THE TIME. You're trying your best to forget them but they keep turning up in your dreams in really odd situations.

THIRD STAGE

Well done! You did it! It's been ages and ages since Stage One and you're quite relieved all that messy crying has stopped (apart from when you're really drunk and it's a) Christmas b) Valentines Day or c) you've just had your 10th engagement notification on facebook in a month). You feel properly single now and are rediscovering the joys of being independent. Learning new skills, not having to text anyone when you're staying out late, meeting new people and embracing being a career person. It still hurts occasionally, but it's more like an occasional heartburn rather than the full on repetitive head kicking it was in Stage One and you can deal with it a lot better.You have plans for next year and you are actually now quite impressed with how strong you can be.

The awesome thing about last night's single girl mash up was that we all came out with it having had a good cry (very cathartic!), lots of laughter (ditto) and some seriously cool plans for the future. We were able to see the awesome points about each other that we sometimes can't see in ourselves and boosted each others confidence. We saw the strength and resilience in one another and all of our different perspectives helped build each other up.

The thing is, there is life after a break up. In Stage One you can't quite see it, but with every day that passes it gets a bit easier-so with that in mind (and what with knowing a lot of very dear friends that are going through some particularly crappy break ups at the moment), don't let the doom and gloom swallow you up-being single is just being given the opportunity to meet the next great love of your life. And a chance to work out who you are. And eat the contents of your fridge. Well. Obviously.

And it's about to be the new year. And what's a new year if not a fresh start and a clean slate?

Whether you're in a relationship or single Reader, may you find peace within yourself and may any fractured hearts be plastered up and kissed better very soon!

Ash
x

Romantical...

Reader, I've been watching some of the films recently that highly encouraged the romantic ideals that formed me as a young un. The Slipper and The Rose, The Princess Bride, Ten Things I Hate About You, Star Wars (shut up, and again, shut up. Hans Solo for the win.). And it made me think-did romantic gestures die out or did they ever exist to begin with?

The thing is, I grew up with really romantic parents. My dad proposed to my mum by taking out a full page ad in the newspaper, and had to wait a week to get a response. She never got an engagement ring, because they were so poor back then, but then years later, at Christmas, he surprised her with the most beautiful bit of bling you ever did see. He brings her flowers on a whim, they go out on dates and she scuba dived and skied for him (things that never caught her interest but that she did because he loved them). Quite often I'll walk in on them laying on the sofa all cuddled up and laughing uproariously at a private joke. They've kept nearly every anniversary card they ever sent to each other and recently my mum told me that whenever she goes out for work evening events or away with friends, she is always thinking about him and can't wait to see him again. They set me this incredible example of what love can be, so my standards are quite high. But is it my standards that are high or the standards of the rest of the world that are low?

I'm at an age now where a lot of my friends are getting engaged, and some of the proposals have taken my breath away. Not because they were the biggest, or the flashiest, but because the proposers knew exactly how their proposees had dreamed it would happen and had managed to outshine whatever they were expecting with their thoughtfulness. Similarly, one of my university friends is with someone who isn't scared to openly say how excited he is to spend the rest of his life with her, who asks her what she'd want out of a marriage and who sacrifices his one holiday to spend it with her family, not because he feels like he should, but because he really wants to. They race home to see each other every evening and sunshine practically gleams out of her when she talks about him.

On the other hand, there's also a chunk of my generation whose love lives are almost exclusively meeting up with people for a quick shag. I was talking to a friend the other day whose romantic life has been purely based around hook ups sourced from the internet, who told me she felt like true romance was dead and that she may as well enjoy herself sexually. She also confided that if she was still doing this when she was thirty she might move to Mexico or have a nervous breakdown, but since she's in her mid twenties she felt like it was still acceptable. Another male friend told me romance was dead, and that I should just get used to it. Big gestures, he told me, just didn't happen any more.

Now, maybe I'm wrong, but when I was growing up, I never wanted my life to be a series of one night stands. I knew that it was unlikely that I'd meet the man of my dreams and have my first kiss with him and then we'd go off to his palace and get married and have lots of perfectly well behaved babies, but I expected to have at least a great deal of romance in my life. Instead, I find myself midway through my twenties, single once more, slightly shellshocked and wondering what happens next. After a break up and some romance disappointments, how do you wind up not being the bitter fairy at the party?

When I first became single again I told my housemate that in order to survive, I had to think of life alone as simply a new life filled with hope to meet the great love of my life, but I think I'd forgotten about all the inbetween bits. The thing is, contrary to fairy stories, true love doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. You meet someone, you become friends, you date, you either want to rip their clothes off straight away or it's more of a slow burner, then love sort of blossoms. And how do I reconcile my dreams of the fairy tale ending with the beginning bits of awkward flirting and not being sure stage of meeting prospective dates? Cinderella certainly never had to put up with this bollocks-although she did have to deal with her only friends being rodents. And there's so much more to consider nowadays! When I was last single and dating (at the tender age of 21), I never bothered worrying about how I would be considered and how I acted in a relationship might affect the velocity of said relationship. I just sort of got on with it. Now I keep getting told that there are all these rules. Be unavailable (not really an issue for me given how crazy my schedule is), let them ask you out, never make the first move, don't be too intimidatingly well dressed (difficult given my wardrobe is almost exclusively 50's dresses and high heels). There's a whole bloody rule book that no one told me about! You're not allowed to just sit on the couch and make out any more, you have to go on proper dates! It's perplexing! And none of the fabulous single women I grew up reading about and watching on the screen are single any more. Carrie has Big. Bridget has kids and a toyboy. Even Jennifer Aniston is engaged. I'm part of this generation of boomerang kids who are all getting engaged and settling down and for the first time in a long while, I'm single, but it seems I'm one of the only ones. Although this does present a couple of nice things. I get to flirt with the gorgeous men that previously I would only dribble at from afar. I get to be a single bridesmaid (always fun, and includes bouquet catching and dancing like a nutter whilst drunk on pimms). If Nicholas Hoult comes knocking, I'll be free for a date (I'll be waiting for that call Nicky boy). I can focus on my acting without feeling guilty. I can eat a tub of Phish Food frozen Yoghurt for dinner and not be told off for it. Christmas is going to be a lot cheaper.

I haven't given up on my belief in true love and romance yet Reader. Even though my happy ending hasn't quite happened yet, I'll go on thinking that anything is possible and being moonstruck at weddings and happy for my loved up friends. Because life is too short to be spent being the bad fairy, especially when you can be the brilliant tea drinking, chicken owning, sparkle wearing fairy godmother in The Slipper and The Rose!

Tarrah!
Ash
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Lessons in home sharing

So Reader, as you will have read in my last entry, I recently moved in with one of my best friends. It's a brilliant thing to do, I would highly recommend it to anything. And I feel like I have learned a lot from it. Here are some of the things that have come from the educational process of flat-sharing.

1. There need to be rules

We have had to institute a list of rules. No, not normal things like 'We will wash our own dishes and pay our bills on time', more things like 'We will always stop each other sending ill advised texts to ill advised people after an ill advised number of drinks' and 'Ash is not allowed to do the washing up after 9pm' (because for some reason my washing up skills go to pot after a certain point in the evening) and 'Vicki is not allowed to talk before she has coffee in the mornings'. They are important rules. Necessary rules. Rules carved in stone.

2. The Wall of I Would is very essential

The Wall of I Would is an important part of everyone's life. For couples, it's called 'the allowed list' (where if they met certain celebs they would be allowed to cheat), for roomies it's about working out who gets who. Ours goes on for two long pages and we have had a number of disagreements (Vicki shotgunned Rupert Grint, which devastated me. We would have had beautiful ginger babies!) and also lots of laughs at the others expense. Both of our lists include: films stars, musicians, people we have fancied in the real world but whom we have never got with (in my case purely through making an utter tit of myself at various parties), comedians, dead people (I mean come the shag on, Jimmy Stewart?!?!),  gay people, Ugly Sexies (Depardieu anyone?) and people that don't actually exist (Eric from The Little Mermaid is MINE BITCHES). It's a bonding experience.

3. Catch ups become an everyday experience

Being apart for a day constitutes an hour long discussion on everything that happened and exactly how we felt about it

4. Different chores for different people

Vicki is brilliant at washing up. I am not. I love cooking and baking all the time. Vicki is more than happy to indulge my Delia habit. Vicki excells at making her bed. My bed usually looks like there is someone sleeping in it due to the amount of junk on the left side. I am obsessive about making the sofa symmetrical. Vicki sees the ruffled blanket and sits on it anyway. Vicki remembers to buy loo roll and diet coke. I remember to buy baking ingredients and pesto. Essentially, between the two of us, we cover all areas.

5. We are not grown up yet

We are still working things out. For example, why does dust exclusively live in bathrooms? And did you know that boilers need to be put on gradually instead of on full heat right away or they might die? And How comes you can only pay council tax annually? And why is life so expensive when we earn so little? And where are all the men who have grown up jobs and lives? 

6. Watching Friends never gets old

I suppose that one is quite obvious. 

7. You always have dating advice on hand

Now that I'm single again, I'm having to navigate the confusing and scary world of dating for the first time since I was roughly 17 and it's all a bit different now. Luckily, when I lose my head, I run to my roomie and she gives me feedback, informative books and outfit advice. And tells me to shut the hell up when I'm being ridiculous. And gives me hugs when I watch a very specific episode of Friends that reminds me of sad times. She is genuinely like a life coach. It's a bit brilliant.

Anyway reader, I have a busy old day tomorrow and have been on set all day today, but here is to living with one of your best friends, and all the brilliance that it entails! 

Ash 

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Growing pains...

Reader, today is my birthday. I have been spoilt within an inch of my life, fed more cheese than the average French person sees in a lifetime and surrounded by glorious pressies. Tonight, I will be feasting on Dominos pizza, whilst watching 30 Rock and going through my facebook messages in what can only be described as an act of delicious vanity. Life is rather marvellous right now.

I was struck the other night  (whilst packing Baklava into my cheeks like a sweet toothed hamster) that the way I celebrate my birthday has changed rather a lot since I was in my late teens. I can only assume I've grown up somehow (meaning the man in the market lied and these magic beans don't hold back the years like he said they would...), a scary thought indeed. So, here is my list of what's changed and what hasn't between how I partied then and how I party now...

1. I no longer find it entirely necessary to compete with sports society boys in alcohol intake. In fact, I'm quite happy with one glass of amaretto on my birthday, because at least then I know I won't a) do anything hideously cringe like vomit over the bouncers or proposition the cardboard cut out of Zac Effron in the Blockbusters window or b) have an utterly catastrophic hangover the next day, which (as my tolerance for booze has got so crap) would have me comatose, able only to reach as far as a bag of Doritos.

2. I am more likely to get vouchers for posh clothes and pampering places rather than WHSmiths. Hurrah!

3. Food has become more important, as I am more likely to be eating healthily the rest of the time.

4. I can afford nicer food! Like fresh pasta instead of supernoodles. And baklava instead of slightly stale asda cookies.

5. Birthdays have become more like New Year's Eve, in that I evaluate how the year's gone and how I want the next year to go. This year I am quite disgustingly smug.

6. I am a bit fatter now than I was then. But thinner than I was when I was twenty. Which is nice.

7. I can no longer stay up all night without needing a serious afternoon nap (or two) the next day. Although I did stay up till 4am on Friday, mainly to watch an utterly atrocious Jude Law film, that was also rather brilliant (mainly because it was so bad, but also because Jude Law is a dreamboat).

8. I have a boyfriend now (take that younger me!)

9. A vast number of my pressies involve kitchenware. I can only take this as a hint to make more cake.

10. My wishlist is more expensive, and more ignored.

11. My little brother gets me far better pressies now. (He got me 4 utterly brilliant DVDs this year, and a proper card! Not just 'happy birthday' written on a post it!)

12. I am less likely to want to go out for my birthday. I will only really go out to our local Italian, where they deep fry Brie and are therefore worthy of my birthday presence. I would go out if it was an exciting surprise or something, but defo not clubbing in London. Anything but. I get too pissed off with the prices, the music and the grimy men trying to grind on me. 'Can I buy you a drink?' 'That depends, will you try to sleep with me after?' 'Uhm....no?' 'Are you sure?' 'Uhm...' 'That girl over there looks single. Go try her. She has a see through top.'

13. House parties seem like hell. Avoid at all costs.

14. No one is free to party on a weekday any more. Everyone has jobs, and husbands (eek!)

15. I no longer have an overdraft (YESSSSS!!!)

So, quite good changes I'd say. Even though to my 18 year old self, I'd probably seem boring, I don't really care! I love my birthdays, lazy and food obsessed though they may be!
Hope you're having a weekend as lovely as I am Reader,
Ash
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Ash and Gunther against the world!

Reader, I have moved to Norwich for the month for my rehearsals. I am currently living out a few dreams of mine,

a) Being a full time actress and getting paid for it (obviously, did I even really need to put that down?)

b) Living with one of my oldest friends (something we said we'd do when we were about 11 but never got round to what with boyfriends and careers and things)

c) Living in the countryside again (I'm going to skip through some fields, y'know, when the snow goes away)

d) Doing a friggin' DICKENS story!?!

Yep, it is a good time. Of course, there are also a few negatives

a) I am away from The Lad. It is the first night and already I miss having someone to put my cold cold feet against

b) My friend (and host) and her boyfriend are brilliant cooks. And are determined to feed me up. I have to stay the same size so I'll fit in my costume. These things do not go hand in hand. In fact, they don't even nod at each other as they pass on the street. They live at the opposite ends of opposite town, one in a very nice neighbourhood with big terraced houses, and the other in the artists quarter, with posters stuck up with blue tack on the walls. I cannot, repeat, CANNOT be a rotund Estella. This would not be ideal, and everyone would be confused as to why Estella was squashing Pip. (Answer, because it is Miss. Havisham's revenge on men)

c) I am living in the countryside again. Last time I did this it caused me to take up smoking, get a tattoo and become a raging drunkard. The countryside has that sort of effect on me.

Me and my stuffed penguin Gunther are having a lovely time, despite the negatives as described as above. We were made curry and given chocolates (see point B), watched some seriously trashy tv (which made us feel smug about how much better our lives were than the teens we were laughing at) and then some 30 Rock (which made us hopeful that one day we would be as wonderful as Tina Fey who we love), talked about ancient Grecian-Egyptian relationships (in other words, old fashioned bonking) and I unpacked all my stuff to discover that I haven't forgotten any chargers (surely a first for me?) and have even remembered to bring both night cream and deodorant (I am so organised right now that I'm practically the Prime Minister of Iceland's PA-high hopes Ash). Now, we're in bed, reading some Manga (so old school) and mentally preparing for meeting a whole room of new people. Am willing myself not to say anything offensive/mind numbingly stupid/pompous out of nervousness but it's highly likely that I will do all three. Eep. I will have to make cakes at some point to appease everyone, just in case.

Anyway Reader, sleep calls, it's been a long day of trudging through snow and being on coaches and trains!
Ash
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Legs 11

Reader, I do not have good legs. Ok, so, in tights or jeans they're not half bad. Maybe a 7.5 on a good day. Bare however, they have been known to provoke laughter, fear and at times worry for my health/welfare. You see, I am a pale sort of a girl (thanks to an exotic combo of irish and kentish blood no doubt) and as such, my limbs are normally a vampiric blue tinged white. This is probably a far too nice way to describe it, so don't think of Twilight vampires with their bloody perfect skin, nor Brad looking all pale and sexy in Interview with a Vampire. Instead think of some half rotted corpse, with skin like a fish's underbelly. Yeah, that's probably more like it. And you know what? Pale limbs do not look good in hot pants. Ok, I hear it, you're thinking 'bloody big whinier, being pale isn't that bad'. But I haven't finished yet. After the pale skin comes the bruises. 'The odd bruise?' you say 'everyone has the odd bruise'. Not like this. At last count I had sixteen largish bruises. On my right leg alone. It's a combination of being veggie, anaemic and very very clumsy. Therefore wearing anything bare legged makes people assume I am a victim of a) domestic abuse or b) some kind of terrible illness. The other problem with my legs are that I have terrible knees. Not cute little dome knees like most A-listers have, but weird knobbles that look like mini mountain ranges (seriously, is there a trick to getting good knees? Some kind of exercise I haven't worked out?).

Over the summer, my legs seem to toughen up a bit, and get less bruisey. I still refuse to put fake tan on (mainly after seeing a girl in high school with a handprint on the back of her calf that made her look like she'd been sexually harassed by a shedding oompah loompah....shudder). I do sometimes dream of denim hotpants without tights underneath but a) I think I may be too old for that look now and b) no. Just no.

My dear friends at school even came up with a song about my legs (mainly because I loved knee high socks but could never seem to get the right sort, so ended up with ones that ended just below the knee. And always lost my tights so had to wear said socks even in winter. The song went to the tune of smelly cat (please bear in mind I also had a terrible hair cut when I was 13 or so..)

Mushroom head, mushroom head
I see your skanky legs
all through the winter
all through the snow
mushroom head, mushroom head (repeat as wished)


A talented bunch indeed. It's a wonder we still speak. Saying that, I'm pretty sure I'm guilty of taking the mick of them a fair number of times (ahem....skintightwhitestraptopwithlipsalloverit.....ahem.....dinosaurs......ahem) so fair enough really.

Right, I'm going to hide my poor old legs in my pj bottoms (after they've been exfoliated and moisturised of course....well, one can hope!)
Much love Reader
Ash
x

I'm the one sitting facing the wall with my arms crossed...

Reader, I am sulking. Why am I sulking? Because I don't want to go to work tomorrow, that's why. No, it's not the first day back since the Christmas holls. That was last Thursday. No, I'm not going back to something hellishly difficult. I'm actually going to be working on a rather nice account, which is selling organic, free range, happy fruit and veg to jolly nice middle class people. And my work colleagues for this account are a rather nice jokey lot, who are rather lovely to chat to.

But the thought of being on the phones for 8.5 hours and staring at a computer screen all day (yes I realise that's what I'm doing now) is rather dreadful. The thing with being an actor is, in order to do the thing you love most, you usually have to spend 85% of your working life doing something that is not what you want to do. Unless you have wealthy, very generous parents. Some may say that actually, that's a bit of a fib, because you could be a teacher or work in a theatre related business or something, but essentially, you need to be able to drop your jobbing job like a hot chicken nugget if an acting job or even just an audition comes along. And if you work in a proper job, you'd be letting people down if you did that. I even get massive guilt over cancelling babysitting if I get an acting job! The handy thing about the company I work for is that it was essentially designed for actors. So they tend to actually be happy for you if you call in and cancel at short notice because you have an audition or a job. Which is wonderful. Although, they don't pay holiday wages, so if you DO have to take a day off, you'll really miss the pay.

The downside is that working in a call centre is tedious, repetitive work. It;s a great company, I like what I'm selling, I think my workmates are brilliant in a number of magical ways, but my god, the work itself makes me want to bash my brains out with my headset. Because on the whole, every conversation you have is the same. Yes, occasionally you get really great ones, where the person on the other end of the phone is hysterically funny and also makes a stonking big order from you then thanks you for calling them, but the rest of the time it's 'oh hi is mrs. wassername there? Oh ok, I'll try later' or 'You're not interested? Oh, ok then, no worries'. Working on a new account alleviates the dullness a little (as does finding out that there's someone vaguely famous working on the floor) but this is why actors have to do the job. Because we have something else to give our lives a bit of excitement and can go 'ah well, at least this isn't the career!' If we're still in a call centre at 50 plus, we may not be quite so cheery.

For the moment, I just need to get through the next three weeks or so. Because after that, I have a month off from the call centre, rehearsing for the theatre tour. Which will be incredible. But also scary, because it will be my first tour, the longest I'll have ever have done a play.

In other news, since Christmas 3 of my friends have got engaged. Is this year some kind of special astrology based boom year or something? It's all very nice and very romantic, but I think The Lad thinks I'm dropping hints, because every time I turn on my computer I go 'Oh, so and so's engaged' and then talking about their weddings for ages. He's been walking round with a slight scared expression ever since. To offset his fear, whenever anyone goes 'It'll be you next' I get very childish and go 'AS IF! BOYS?! BOYS ARE SMELLY!' So he doesn't think that I'm some crazy bridezilla who's despo to drag him up the aisle. Instead he now thinks I am a crazy man hater who never wants to marry. I am in fact, neither of those extremes. I am a normal person who's got lots of friends who are getting married. Oh god, I just realised how many wedding outfits I have to get this year.Wedding outfits are hellish. Because there are so many rules. You can't wear white, because that's tacky and rude at someone else's wedding and implies you wish you were the bride. You can't wear off the shoulder, above the knee or busty outfits, because people will assume you're fishing for your own hubby. You can't look too good or people will think you're trying to upstage the bride. You can't wear too much black or people will think you're terribly sad about the wedding. You can't wear massive heels or people will think it's a footballer's wedding. This list cancels out most of my wardrobe. I may just go in my yellow flowery duvet, with arm holes ripped in it. Sorted!

Right Reader, off to learn some lines
Ash
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New years new....

Hello Reader! I'm currently writing this on my smartphone which means a) technology is taking over the world b) I am on a train and c) this may take a while. I'm off to spend New Year's Eve with The Lad's family ooop north, where there shall be much eating and drinking (Hurrah!). Now, it's customary around this time of year to make a few resolutions. I'm not really a big fan of that, as I tend to find that if I make them at New year I tend not to keep them, but if i did, this is what they'd be.


Ash's new Year resolutions (at least they would be if she made any ever)


1) keep below 9 stone. This one is mainly to do with acting stuff, not in an 'I need to be skinny to get parts' way but in an 'oh god I sent off measurements for my costume when I was at my skinniest and will defo be bursting out if i keep eating chips so often' sort of way. Also, at one point in the play I'm doing, I play someone who's like, fourteen. Fourteen year olds are not so much with the boobiness. Well. At least I wasn't when I was fourteen. I had friends who were, but I was flat as a pancake till I went off to uni and something in the water made them grow like a marvel comic.

2) get good reviews for my theatre tour. You know, cause that'd be rather nice. And I could put them in my scrapbook next to my other (one) review and tell my grandchildren what a glam young actress I was. I will, obviously, be glossing over the less glamorous times. Grandchildren do not need to hear about working at a call centre.

3) move into own place with The Lad (well, one can dream!) Somewhere with a smeg fridge and an exposed redbrick wall and maybe even a balcony. *sigh*

4) go on holiday somewhere hot. Because I haven't for YEARS. Don't care where so long as it's not chav tastic and has a pool. And a beach with sand. And alcohol. This would be a great present if any of my wealthy friends win the lottery...

5) read war and peace. I think this has been on my to do list for the past three years or so...

6) spend time with friends and family. This one may be difficult what with the tour and all, but I'll regret it if i don't, and let's face it, they're all FABULOUS so effort must be made.

7) get even more acting work. Maybe something with the BBC. Or directed by Mike leigh. Or another theatre tour! Tell you what, someone just give my number to the Hollywood organiser. That person exists right? You know, the person who goes, 'ah yes, let's make this person a verrrry popular actor in England for 2 years, then let them break into America, do some fabby Canadian work, then only have to do two films/plays a year for the rest of their life.' If that person IS reading this, I would love to play Hedda Gabler. Or if they're making a film based on Bluebeard, the female lead in that is awesome. Or...you know what? Just keep me in acting work and I'll be happy.

8) do some charity work. For the soul. Which is probably a bit tarnished from all my consumerism, buying Primark clothes, and not being vegan, and given that me and my friends were talking about the end of the world the other day, I reckon I need to give it a bit of a polish. Also, it's nice.

9) do something completely new. Even if it's just learning to make pasta with my exciting new pasta maker. Or dying my hair a new colour. Would be better if was something exciting though, like cuddling a baby tiger or playing ice hockey.

10) wear more exciting clothes. Because I can be really bloody boring sometimes with my choices, and when people buy me mad but gorgeous clothes I wear them to death and remember how much I adore looking a bit eccentric! The mother got me the most incredible little fifties style mini-dress with Sailor Jerry girls all over it and I keep wanting to wear it every day.

11) keep this blog up. Because at the end of January, I'll have been writing it for a whole year, and it would be a shame to stop now!

And that's about all I can think of! It used to be 'give up smoking' but I did that.  Yay. It's been quite a good year though Reader, I finished drama school, lived with a boyfriend for the first time, visited Ireland for the first time in ages, went to a health spa, did some interesting films, worked in a job for the longest I've ever managed (6 months so far!), got parts in radio and internet adverts, got the part of a lifetime to do a theatre tour next year, turned 23, saw my little brother off to uni, honed my baking skills, learnt to make steak despite being a veggie and have even managed to end the year with a little money saved up! I'm quite proud. I hope you've had a lovely year too Reader, and I hope that next year is even better.
Keep reading!
Ash
X

Falling in love again...

Oh Reader, today I fell in love so many times my head is spinning. I've got that hot flush of excitement that only comes when you've got a massive crush and I'm pretty sure it's the start of a beautiful relationship. It's going to be an expensive one though.

It all started when I was supposed to be writing another blog on cakes with the wonderful SJ *see the last blog*. I turned up to the station, just in time to get 3 texts and a voice-mail warning me that she was on the train back to visit her parents because she'd thought I'd meant next Thursday (bloody technology eh?). So I decided to spend my newly free morning doing a spot of shopping. I got a disastrous swimming costume from Primark (got home to discover a) it was so tummy controlled that it took half an hour to get over my thighs, b) the colour makes me look like an 80s exercise loon and c) the shape gets rid of my waist and boobs so I just look like a weeble's wobble) and then went to have a look round Selfridge's. And that's where it really began. First I went to have a little look round the underwear section. It was like seeing what I could be if I starved myself long enough and exfoliated more often. Agent Provocateur was amazing (can I have some of their silk stockings please?) but some of the leather contraptions were a bit scary. I even saw a pair of pants by Stella McCartney for £300. Who spends that much on something you put on your bum? Foolish foolish people. Then (feeling slightly less excited about my £5 Primark lingerie)  I went down to the clothes level and came across the Viv Westwood bit. The tailoring was sensational. I think the people working there started to get a bit worried that I was a bit wrong in the head, I kept moaning in vaguely erotic ecstasy over the gathering on the dresses and in particular one red tartan jacket (very Clueless). In the end I had to leave because I had a tear in my eye (mainly due to the prices, yikes!). So off I went to the food hall. Oh the food hall. It was like being in an even better version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. There were so many options for veggies, sushi, proper cupcakes with real buttercream, massive meringues and Italian style deli's. There were so many kinds of cheese I nearly had a seizure. At one point I caught myself cooing at some asparagus salad. They even had a special american aisle where they sold kraft mac n cheese (which I so so nearly got) and the most amazing veggies you've ever seen. By the time I went to meet Kate at The Museum of Everything on the bottom floor, I was drooling. They had to mop the floor after I left.

Kate was unimpressed with how gobsmacked I was by Selfridge's (probably because she gets to see it every day) and promised me that if I liked Selfridge's then I'd LOVE Liberty. So we met up with Katy (confusingly similar names, very different people, both fabulous friends) and we went for an inspection. Reader, we got to the jewellery section and that's as far as we went. We spent 45 minutes looking round most of the room, then discovered an amazing concession by a woman names Annina Vogel. She takes antique and vintage jewelery (usually gold, hurrah!) and turns it into some of the most gorgeous jewellery I've ever seen. We literally stood there, alternating between gasping at the gorgeous charms and gossiping with the lovely lovely concession attendant for about an hour. It flew by. There was even a little penisandballs charm in gold! *I particularly wanted that one. You could say I had penis envy! Hohoho* If you want a look at how fab Annina's work is, you can check out her stuff here but I would recommend actually going to Liberty to see it, as the girl who runs the concession has a great eye and really knows her stuff. Plus, the range is a lot wider and there are some fantastic pieces not displayed on the site. Pretty much everything there is either a one off or severely limited edition, so much nicer than something off the high street like H.Samuels or Links!

Anyway, I shall be going to sleep and dreaming of a future where I'm rich and skinny enough to wear Stella McCartney pants under my Viv Westwood dress, eating some Selfridge's food and dripping with Annina's jewellery!
Night Reader!
Ash
x

Self discovery, liquid cheese and comics

Reader, I've had a delightful day. After a lovely lay in, after which me and The Lad chilled for ages reading webcomics and chatting in bed, we went for lunch at Ed's Diner with our wonderful friends from uni, Homeslice, Vicki and  Laura (a fantastic fellow blogger and comedian who you can read here). There we ate what can only described as liquid cheese. It was so liquid that even when cold, it didn't really solidify, it just turned into a neon yellow gazpacho. I'm sure I don't need to tell you Reader, that it was fabulous, and Homeslice even took his milkshake back to work with him to keep the awesomeness going. A little while later, our bellies stretched like pregnancy bulges, we went to the local comic book shops, where The Lad picked up a couple of comics from 'The New 52' Range.

 For those that don't know what that is (a group I fell into till he told me), those are a special group of comics for those who are new to it and confused by the many many complex story lines (like me. Spider man is black now but only in an alternate universe? What the friggins?). They sort of pick up at the beginning of a story arch and are simple enough for people to go 'aaahhh ok, I get it'. And Reader, I would seriously recommend them. You see, I love comic books. But I came into it a bit late. So while I have read entire series' of some comics (Like 'Y the last man' ohmygodsobloodyamazingitmakesmeweeabit and 'The Runaways') there are others that I'd love to read but I'm just too out of the loop. Like Batman for example. Now, I was brought up on the Batman films. I used to have a really creepy batman mask, complete with the chin with the dimple in it that I used to run around in naked apart from a towel-cape singing NANANANANANANANABATMAAAAAN!' (but that's a story for another day). I used to watch the cartoons. I dressed up as Poison Ivy for my first Halloween at uni and for my first Halloween out of Drama School I'm considering dressing as Harley Quinn. I've read all the mini comics based on the women of batman. But when I tried to pick up the batman comics, it was mid-storyline and trying to work out all the in jokes was just exhausting. Which is why reading the first of 'The New 52' series was a relief. It meant I could pick up at the beginning (and it was about the Joker, so safe ground!) but was a brilliant story, one that kept me really interested and excited about the next in the series. The Superman one (Called 'Action Comics') was pretty good, as was one I hadn't heard much about 'Animal Man', which had a particularly gripping cliffhanger ending. I'm also going to be picking up the Wonderwoman version when it comes out, so hopefully it will be as great as the others.

At the comic book shop, The Lad found something that thrilled me. A Fizzgig plushie (from the Dark Crystal film) complete with fully opening mouth! I've been told that giving that along with the DVD to my one year old Godson could scar him for life, but I'm still pretty tempted.

After that, The Lad and the lovely Vicki both had to dash, so Laura and I went and looked around some awesome old bookshops and the most gorgeous costume jewellery shop ever (Christopher St James in Cecil Court, Leicester Square, I will be going there for all my jewellery needs from now on) then on to coffee and gossiping. The great thing about Laura is that she's one of those friends that reminds me of when I'm at my best, quirky and fun and spontaneous, and it also reminded me of how it felt to be that person. It also made me realise that Drama School (although it was an experience that I would never ever take back because it was incredible) seriously knocked my confidence. I was constantly told to conform and stop standing out. I was told off because I wore kooky clothes and crazy shoes because it was too much of a statement about who I was, and in order for them to teach me, I needed to be a blank slate. I get that. I really do. But I think, now that education is over, I need to find myself again a bit. Because being a blank slate doesn't make me happy. I miss being the girl in the hooker heels and fifties skirt that rocked out to Abba on her way to work. So I'm going to find my style again and rediscover me a bit. I've booked an appointment to get my hair done for next week, I'm going to dress up for work tomorrow, and you know what? On the train in, I might even listen to 'Does your mama know that you're out'.

AWESOME.
Anyway Reader, I'm off to sleep, won't be able to walk in those heels if I'm too tired!
Byesie bye
Ash
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You can tell I'm happy by the cartoon birdies...

Reader, I must apologise. I have been re-reading some of my most recent entries, and dear god, I've been boringly down in the dumps. But I am in such a better mood now! I think it's a combo of all the goat's cheese I've been eating and the sunshine and the avoiding nasty processed crap, but I feel sickeningly happy. All is well in Ash-land this week, I've had a whole collection of skinny days (most girls' idea of heaven), I get to eat chocolate every day, I'm seeing my girlfriends on Friday for dinner and drinks, I get to make cakes during the day with my adorable child-minding charges, I'm getting a new phone on Monday (a HTC Sensation in case you were interested) PLUS I'm having a dinner party on Saturday.

 Now, dinner party is perhaps stretching it, it's more having a couple of people over to eat vast amounts of cheese and potato, but still. Now, throwing dinner parties isn't something I do every week Reader, don't get me wrong, but I do love it. The excuse to bake lots of cakes is always good (and yes, even though there will only be 7 of us MAXIMUM I'm still making 3 kinds of cake). And they're people I practically never get the chance to see, let alone impress with my mad skillz in the kitchen. Now obviously I will be spending a whole two days in front of a stove and have had to take a day off work (lucky I am babysitting that day also so it will not be utterly devoid of the quids) but it is SO utterly worth it for the noises of munching and delight that will occur on Saturday.

Am watching a lot of a Vlogger called Katersoneseven on youtube at the moment. She's really addictive to watch, so give it a go. She's basically an English girl in America and she reminds me a lot of my circle of friends. I'd very much like to hang out with her, because she is awesome and very fun. This is unlikely to happen because she lives in America, and is a famous Vlogger, and also mainly because I don't know her even a little bit, but still. Katers, if you're reading this: you are one cool jelly bean, let's be buddies.

And with that fan moment all done,
Bye bye!
Ash
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Conventions and courtesy

Reader, yesterday was somewhat of a spectacularly geeky day for me. The London Film and Comic Convention was on at Earls Court, something I went to last year (and was utterly overwhelmed by the pure geekiness. And the BO smells. Teenage boys are stinky.) and had enjoyed, so this year we went back, this time in costume (like I said, it was a very geeky day). So, seeing as this year's line up had quite a few Dr. Who actors (including the gorgeous Karen Gillan who The Lad got a photo with), we went as the Dr. Who cast, with one friend dressed as the Doctor, The Lad dressed as Rory (in the Roman Centurion costume) and me dressed as Amy Pond in her police kiss-o-gram costume. (And another friend in a space invader costume, which still sort of fits the genre...and even if it doesn't, it was still awesome.)

Now, the experience taught me a number of things. I feel it is only right and fair to share those things with you. So here is my list of...

DOs AND DO NOTs AT A FILM AND COMIC CONVENTION

• DO bring lots of cash. Things are very very expensive, from the food to the tacky souvenirs you will no doubt end up buying. You may think you are immune to the charms of film themed merchandise but things change in there...I know people who have walked out of the Earls Court convention centre with memory loss and armfuls of Superman posters and Star Wars mugs, unsure of what happened. I went in with £30 and came out with a cheap pendant and a very empty purse.
• DO bring your own water. It's quite muggy and there's a lot of walking inside, and otherwise you'll get charged a fortune for a mini Evian. And then you won't have any moneys left to buy star wars mugs. Which would of course be tragic.
• DO play convention bingo. Fat person in motorised chair? Girl in very inappropriate fur bikini? Sweaty teen with spots following girl in very inappropriate fur bikini? Past it Star Trek actor? BINGO!
• DO be prepared for a long wait if you choose to go get your photo taken with a star. a) in the queue for said photo and b) after, to actually GET the photo. Because it takes HOURS! And there is no queueing system at all. It's just a mass of angry sweaty people.
• DO dress in a costume. People will ask you to pose for photos for them, making you feel like a celeb. If you go in a themed group, they'll get photos of the whole group and you'll feel like a rock band. Very amusing.
• DO bring loo roll. They run out faster than Glasto. 
• DO make an element of your costume yourself. Or else there's no point. You will be seen as a bit of a loser. Which, in that particular room, is a talent. 
• DO attempt to make eye contact with the film stars who are signing autographs, you will be able to pretend that you know them and you're just too cool to say hi. Last year, The Lad actually DID know one of them, cause when he was little he used to be friends with Neville Longbottom who was there for signings. We didn't say hi. I wanted to, but The Lad was way too cool. 

And that's all for now!

Bye chaps!

Ash

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• DO NOT make eye contact with the artists/writers on Comic Alley. They will guilt you into buying their very expensive comics with 'yeah, we spent ten years on it, we lost the budget, there was a fire, the artist's arm fell off, but here it is, our life's work' and you'll think 'crikey, they've worked so hard it MUST be good' then you'll get home and read it and realise most of it is based around their friendship group and is full of in jokes you don't get. Or, as happened to The Lad, you'll get home and realise it's a rude comic with lots of bottoms.
• DO NOT go dressed in a costume with very tight skirt (my mistake). People will poke your bum. Because they think that you being in costume gives them a right to. And there are so many people there, you will not catch the culprit.
• DO NOT go dressed in a sexy police girl costume. The same jokes get made over and over and over. 'Hey, if you want to arrest anyone..', 'You can try out your handcuffs on me if you like?'. Ick. My own fault, I should have gone as a sand person from star wars. 
• DO NOT wait around to see Corey Feldman. He is way too popular. You will not get to see him. And it will be sad, because you will not be able to quote Puppet-master vs Demonic Toys at him.
• DO NOT dress as Jessica Rabbit. There's a girl who always does it for the LFACC and she has bigger boobs than anyone in the world. You will be known as Small Boobed Jessica Rabbit. 
• DO NOT give in to sugar cravings. You will crash and burn on peanut M&Ms.
• DO NOT get too over excited over the tiny children dressed as Dr. Who. Their parents will think you're going to try and steal them.

Things that make me squee and things that make me pull a messy sort of face

Reader I was with a very lovely friend today (who by the way, put me to shame with her L33T hostess skills, she served honey roast cashews and olives and made me dinner and everything!) and I thought 'Yes. This is a thing I like a great deal. This makes me feel glowy and happy in my belly. I could do with more of this.' But in order to go and see said lovely friend, I had to take a very long, very smelly, very rubbish filled bus, which made me think 'No. No, I could live without this MOST easily. In fact, this makes me think we should have invented instantaneous travel through space or time already. Or I should learn to drive maybe.'

These little thoughts made me decide to make some lists for your reading pleasure (and also so you know what to put in my path and what to steer me clear of, should the opportunity ever arise.)

Things that make me squee with delight

• Bread. With real butter. I don't care if it makes me fat, I want it, and I want it now.
• Videos of naughty kittens.
• Videos of baby sloths.
• Videos of slow lorris' being tickled.
• When my cat comes and looks at me and tries to talk. ('Yaaaawwwww' 'what's that benji?' 'Yaaaaaaawwww', 'you want to do what?' 'Yaaaaaaaawwwww' 'Who's in the well?' 'YAAAAAAWWWWW' 'Oh right, you want food')
• Pulpy Anne Rice style novels that I have to hide under more intellectual book covers.
• Ben Elton books.
• Top Gear (but don't tell my brother or dad)
• When my mum takes me shopping round Primark and pays for it (Heaven!)
• The smell of turf in Ireland. Ditto Tayto crisps, red lemonade and watching The Rose of Tralee.
• Diet coke on tap with ice.
• Minstrels and cheese and onion McCoys. 
• Seeing my lovely lovely friends. I have a number of different 'groups', all of which are wonderful. There's  The College Group who are very bohemian and awesome and who I adore so much I could see them every day, but we all live in different corners of London, so our meet ups are somewhat rare. But when we do meet up, it's always so epic you could write novels about it. We go to Eastbourne a lot, and once to Dunster. And there are lots of cultured museum trips with dressing up. There's The Oldies who are my oldest friends, one from primary school, one from high school and a friend from my old neighbourhood who I have known since she was 2 and I was 5. We're a very odd bunch and on first viewing shouldn't really have much in common but for some reason we've really stuck and have regular pub meet ups where we laugh about our lives and gossip about everyone we know and some people we don't. It's a chilled, no pressure environment with lots of fond memories. There's The Huttonites who are the people I lived with at uni (and 2 girls I didn't live with but who we adopted because they were too fantastic to let leave the flat). I spent the three most emotionally frantic years of my life with these guys and they're genuinely like my family. Some live in Kent, some in Sussex, some in surrey and some are just plain MIA at the moment, but we know although we don't get to see each other very often at all, we will always be in each others lives, because we couldn't live without one another! There's The T:24 bunch who were people I met through the drama soc at uni; possibly the strangest, funniest, sweetest group of people in the world, who I have been so drunk with I have had to block out many memories, but the ones remaining are fantastic. They're people that have truly educated me about theatre and the arts, better teachers than any of my lecturers! And finally there's the new lot, The Drama Schoolies who are still pretty new to me. Drama school wasn't the easiest place to make friends for me to be honest, there's something about the vibe there that made me pretty socially pathetic, maybe it was having to have my emotions on my sleeve the whole time. But I have met some very cool people there, who I will definitely keep in touch with. I find that the longer I am away from drama school, the more friendly I have become, the more I actually want to talk to my friends from drama school and the more I really miss them! Luckily, I've been able to work with a number of them on projects since leaving, huzzah! Gosh, this post ended up being longer than expected. On to the next point!
• Rimini (a really nice pizza place near me that I go to a lot with The College Group)
• Awful trash tv (e.g. Maury, Made in Chelsea, The Only Way is Essex, One born every minute,The Hotel)
• David Lynch films
• Mother of pearl
• Antique furniture
• Vintage fashion
• Ikea
• Losing weight (obvo)
• Dyeing my hair (and my god, it literally is dying with every colour)
• Film nights with my family (particularly horrors, because then my mum squeaks amusingly)
• Making my godson smile (no mean feat, he is a very serious baby who disproves of grown up malarkeys)
• Gossip
• Ian Banks books
• Comedic feminist poetry 
• Bette Davis films
• Brightly coloured shoes
• My bed.
• Phone calls from people I haven't seen in ages
• Phone calls offering me parts in films
• Scripts that get me excited about acting
• Compliments that are well aimed 
• That advert with the polar bear in the freezer (I really REALLY want one)
• Seeing my dad a bit pissed and trying to hide it 

Some things that make me pull a messy sort of face in fury

• Alsations and German Shepards (I got attacked by one when I was a kid and have never forgiven the entire breed)
• Parsnip (It pretends to be potato, then tastes all bitter. Unforgivable.)
• Beetroot (It's smug)
• Expensive clothing that I can't afford but really really want.
• Muggers and that chav that stole my handbag
• Jersey Shore
• Tory MPs
• When my mum interferes in my cooking (which she often does. To get her back, I often interfere in hers)
• My room being messy (as it often is)
• Losing things (often because of the above)
• My boyfriend pretending to be angry with me (It's never amusing)
• When my brother used my loo and leaves strange smells behind
• Diva behaviour 
• Teenagers playing tinny music on their phones on the bus and for that matter
• Buses
• Tfl
• Nationwide's terrible treatment of anyone with an overdraft
• Halifax losing my bank card and then my pin number
• Daddy long legs
• Salmon
• People eating tuna sarnies on the train (come on, they smell!)
• People not offering me seats on the train, especially when I'm pretending to be pregnant (I do a great impression of a pregnant woman, how dare they!)
• Calories
• The price of learning to drive, and subsequently, driving
• Not being able to sunbathe in late May.

Well....that took a fair while. Anyway, just to change the subject, here is a link to a chap called Richie's website   www.ashwinmusic.co.uk   He's just released a single called Holiday Romance and I was an extra in the background! I'm barely visible in it, but if you keep a beady eye out, you might catch glimpses of me dancing etc. Anyway, it's a very good song, he's in talks with Universal and you can buy the single on Itunes, so please go ahead and do so! 

On that musical note Reader,

Goodnight and tally ho!

Ash

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