Guess who's back?

Hey Reader, sorry about the long blogging absence, I've been back from the tour since Sunday and as you can probably imagine it's been a bit of an adjustment period. In fact, I'm still adjusting. To the extent that I can't quite bring myself to go put my suitcase upstairs because I feel like I'm going to be on the train to East Anglia again tomorrow. But no, am officially a jobbing actor again. I should really go on holiday and have a rest or something, am so run down I look like a meth addict/hag who lives in a cave and eats eels but I'm really really poor at the mo, so that's not looking too likely. The Lad might be going on holiday with his friends, and thus will probably have to endure quite a massive sulk from me, given that we were supposed to be going away together but then he decided he wanted to go abroad for the summer and work (nope, that never happened, interviews for his PGCE had to take precedence, understandably). If it ends up with me being stuck in England and him prancing off somewhere balmy with his mates, I will be rather grumpy. I may be forced to spend some of my savings (for our future home together) and go off by myself on a cheapo last minute deal. Or (more likely, given my skintness) go and spend a while in my friend's house in eastbourne, having no heating but being able to go swimming in the sea at night after a few cocktails and eating chips out of greasy paper every day. Actually...that sounds like just the ticket...

Going back to work has been pretty weird too. On top of being so exhausted I can't hold a logical conversation, the whole of my floor is full of people I don't know, talking about how great and flexible the job is. Ok, so they're right. It is flexible. But I've been there on and off for a year now, and every time there's a new batch of workers, they say the same thing. Within a month it's all doom and gloom. And then a new batch come in, etc. I've slightly turned into a grumpy old biddy, crowing 'you'll learn!' at them in my head as I try and resist (and usually fail) the temptation of the vending machine.

I'll be back to my usual, irritatingly optimistic ways soon, after lots more chocolate and sleep. Till then, I apologise to anyone I snap at, I just have post-tour blues!

Before I go, I HAVE to tell you about the mad thing that just happened to me! I'd just jumped in the bath and dipped my head under when there was a positively FRIGHTFUL hammering at the door and ringing of the bell. Thinking my mum had forgotten her keys and had a work call to make, I leapt out of the bath, wrapped myself in a big old towel and legged it downstairs. Not my mother however. Nope, a massive Caribbean post man holding a parcel to be signed for. He sort of leered at me and went 'no school today then?' To be fair, the towel was hiding all my curvy bits and make up free, I look absurdly young, but still, I'm 24! 'Nope, bit old for that Mate' I said as I took the parcel and went to close the door to I could retire back to my bath 'Just my luck!' He letched 'Come for a drink with me tonight'. Reader, I've already told you I'm a moody cow at the moment. I just went 'NO, My bath is running, BYE.' and almost slammed the door in his face. But seriously! If I look so young that he thinks I should be in uniform then what on earth is he doing asking me out? The bloke was in his thirties! At the absolute oldest he must have assumed I was 18, but I have a sneaky suspicion he thought I was more like 15. Also, I'm in a towel, which makes me massively vulnerable, how dare he proposition me like that at my own door?! Where is his sense of professionalism? What a creep. Needless to say, double lock went on the door after that and I'll be ignoring the bell next time I'm in a towel, even if I'm SURE it's one of the family needing to be let in! 

On that creepy note Reader, I'm off to dry my hair!
Toodles!
Ash
x

It's all happened rather quickly...

Reader, in two weeks time, my tour will be over. OVER. DONE. FINITO. I am, quite frankly, terrified. Ok, so it had to come to an end eventually. But given that I've spent more time with this group of people over the last four months than I have with my family, it's going to be a serious adjustment not hanging out with them at every given opportunity. It's been a bit like working with the famous five, only with vodka instead of ginger beer, a minibus instead of bicycles and Little Chef lunches instead of Aunt Fanny's picnics. And there's also the point that I have nothing lined up for after the tour, apart from a film I did last year being shown at the East End Film Festival in London and a few possible auditions. Being self employed is bloody scary sometimes. Being on tour is great, because when you tell people you're an actress and they ask if you're up to anything, you've always got an answer. In mid June, I will only be able to reply with 'Erm, well, I'm working at a call centre, but hopefully something will come up soon...' Time to get back to letter writing and appealing to casting directors I think.

At least when the tour's done I'll have more free time. I've been a social hermit since it started, and I'm despo to see my old uni friends again! And catch up with my drama school mates, who are all doing mad and interesting things! And bake more often...

Maybe I'll take up knitting. Or I'll start working 6 days a week. More money would defo come in useful since I am currently outrageously skint and in need of a holiday (which I haven't had in three years). Or I'll get an acting project in a hot climate with another group of really fun people? Yes please...

To be fair, it's probably about time the tour ended, my poor liver is as shrivelled as pot pourri with all the booze I've been chucking back, and nightly cheese sarnies have made my scales screech in horror. Salad and tofu with a side order of jogging for the month after I finish I reckon. And maybe the odd solero. Because it's summer, and a life without ice cream at summer is no life at all. And maybe the odd glass of pimms...or pitcher....oh dear....

Enjoy your fab lollies Reader!
Ash
x

Off again off again jiggedy jig...

Reader, I have been atrocious at blogging recently, for which I can only apologise. It's quite tough to find the time (and internet) on tour and when I'm at home I tend to be trying to fit in seeing friends and family, doing some hours at the call centre so I can pay my phone bill and travel card and hanging out with The Lad as much as possible. As such, things like blogging, exercising and going to the doctors have all been left by the wayside! And now I'm about to go back off on tour for another week and a half. Blimey! What a busy life I do lead. Tomorrow I'll be performing in a completely enormous theatre just outside of Manchester, a slightly terrifying thought given that it's a weekday and the biggest venue we've performed at so far. Hopefully Manchester is Dickens friendly and the theatre will somehow sell out. Come on theatre gods, please let that happen! Just think of the profit share...yes please!

In other news, my 8 year old cousin just had her first big audition, for a yoghurt advert on the telly! And she got a recall! Proud cousin over here. Although obviously will be highly bitter if she wins a bafta at 8 years old. Although I won't show it. I'll just scheme and plot in silence like some medieval royal who's younger relative is more loved by the public than them. The tower of London may get involved. I'm currently very aware that once the tour is done I have nothing lined up acting wise. I am having a slight actor's panic. I have tentatively applied to a show that's happening right after mine's finishing, and a couple of film jobs, but so far, no cigar. Bums. Such is the life of an actor though! Constantly slightly anxious about where the next job will come from and how you'll pay your rent. Ideally I need something really well paid to come along so that I won't have to panic quite as much and can focus on doing workshops at the Actor's Centre rather than trudging into the call centre. I am being slightly ridiculous as the show doesn't actually finish till June, but I like to know that there's more stuff waiting in the wings (as, I suspect, does every actor on earth). Mastercard ads pay quite well don't they? Can someone get me one of those?

The tour is going brilliantly though. Teaching me all manner of things and luckily I have a lovely cast who are huge amounts of fun to hang out with. It's sort of like living The Famous Five (if they were all actors and quite a bit older. And if there were loads more of them). Last week we stayed on a country estate in the middle of nowhere, so posh that they had a hunt and served a hot dinner at 5pm sharp every day (meaning that we'd be starving once the show ended at 10.30 and have to load up on buttery toast and left over apple strudel). Pretty awesome stuff. Being on tour also means you get to experience stuff going wrong, which may sound bad, but it's a great way to teach you how to cope on stage if everything goes akimbo. Last week for example, a rather crucial sound effect didn't come in, so my co-actor and I improvised a ten second scene. Terrifying but brilliant fun.And actually, once it's happened once, you don't get afraid of it happening again. because you know you can cope if it does. And you know that you can have a stiff drink after, and joke about it with the cast. Am keeping my fingers crossed that it stays nice and sunny, because at the end of this week we're heading to a little seaside town, and I have my heart set on sunbathing and having a swim! Typically, we've been predicted snow...

My little brother is back for his Easter holls now too! Already there's been an argument about him wearing a smelly t-shirt and his room looks like something's exploded in it. It's lovely having him back though, he's reached the age now where he's fun to hang around with and he knows lots of handy rude words. Although the fact that my younger brother has almost finished his first year at uni makes me feel incredibly old! Maybe I'll get another tattoo...

On that note Reader, I'm off! I haven't actually packed yet...oops...
Ash
x
p.s. ANOTHER couple I know just got engaged. That's 9 couples since new years and it's only march! Has the government released something into the air?!

The wheels on the bus go...

Well Reader, the tour is well and truly underway. This morning I woke up in beautiful Cumbria, where the sun was shining and the birds were twittering in a distinctly northern manner. Wait....is Cumbria northern? Maybe I should have listened to Mrs. Bidewell in Geography when I was 13 instead of sniffing scented gel pens in the back seat like a rebel. Well, you get the drift anyway. Toto, we're not in North London any more.

Of course, I could have realised that from when we got in yesterday. A Booths instead of an Asda, a micro-brewery full of people seemingly outraged that a bunch of strangers were descending on their quiet night (to be fair, it was a Wednesday and rather late in the day when we turned up demanding pasta and beer) and the view from my window frames a mountain with a replica lighthouse rather than a cement school playground and a railway track. It's all rather nice! If this is touring theatre, it's pretty cushty stuff. The house we're staying in is gorgeous too, big open fireplaces and cosy chairs all over the place. Lucky actors! Only one more night here though, then we're off to perform in the Clonter Opera Theatre, where we'll be put up in a rather fabulous country estate. So far this touring malarkey is pretty good fun, but must make a mental note not to keep stuffing my face with service station grease fests because if I don't, I'll be taking up two seats on the tour bus!

The thing is, service stations remind me of holidays. Going to Devon or Margate and stopping off on the way for something decent  to last us till night time (for decent read chips and beans and possibly dippy doughnuts) so I have this pavlovian response to them. I see a little chef and I start drooling and thinking of onion rings. It's an addiction really. Other people don't seem to share my weird addiction. Someone told me it was unhygienic to eat at service stations the other day. I just stared at them, aghast. THAT'S ALL PART OF THE FUN, SURELY? Along with the moody staff, the groups of elderly tourists going on a Saga trip, resplendent in wrap-around sunglasses and cut off slacks. Marvellous.

I'd carry on talking up the wonders of service station cuisine, but I have to prepare to go to the theatre (please imagine Brian Blessed reading those final two words, it makes it far more fabulous and epic sounding),
Hope you're enjoying yourself as much as I am Reader,
Ash