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

How different life might have been....

Reader, when I was 18 years old, had hair down to my bum and had only just got a facebook account, I was invited to become a Suicide Girl.

(Me age 18)

 I was offered a large amount of money to go and do a vintage style vaguely cheeky shoot in a super kitch Brighton hotel and boy was I tempted. I loved pin up girls. Being a child of the Myspace generation, I was also a huge Suicide Girls fan, loving the funky, non-cookie-cutter girls in the pictures and the message of proud female sexuality they sold. But I was also an 18 year old just out of Catholic 6th Form, who'd never had a boyfriend or had any clue about myself as a woman apart from the fact that I liked vintage clothes and acting and feminism. I thought for maybe 14 hours about the offer before I turned it down, not wanting to have a negative effect on my not-even-yet-in-existence-acting-career, or to have pictures of myself that I may later regret online. I sent the 'thank you but no thank you' email with no small degree of regret. I loved Suicide Girls. They were like the cool, alternative, fun girls who don't play by the rules but are still popular and offered fame and fortune-something which, as a naive and exceptionally innocent 18 year old, was hard to turn down.

Now, looking back I don't regret my decision at all. I still think Suicide Girls are incredible, but at 18 years old I had none of the street savvy required to do a shoot that would have sexualised me to such an extent, nor any of the self confidence. I am happy to do burlesque or vargas style shoots these days, but as a woman nearing the end of my twenties, I have the life experience and knowledge to be able to say no to anything I'm uncomfortable with and put my foot down if I don't like shots. I do however wonder if I'd be any different had I done the shoot....

So here's a little idea of who I'd be in my imagination if I did....

So, acting work would have come in after the shoot, as being a SG was very trendy at that point in time. I likely would have taken a year out of uni to do some acting work (and knowing myself as I do, I wouldn't have gone back). I would have missed out on meeting some wonderful people and having experiences that I treasure like crazy now, but I also would have done the young model/actor thing, travelling and staying in a million hotels with a crazy group of people. Being as impressionable as I was at that age, I would probably have got myself into some sticky situations. I would have got more tattoos and probably dyed my hair wackier colours to fit with my new, alternative friends. My casting would be fairly different. Without the 'little sister' tag I had at university, I would have ended up with boyfriends a lot earlier, and probably would have had my heart broken a whole lot. Would I have done drugs? I'd like to say no, but at that age? Who knows? At 18 I'd never been offered drugs, my knowledge of them was purely theoretical. I might have ended up going to drama school, but I think after starting in the professional world at 18, without knowing who I was as a person, I would now be a very different person-probably someone who was a lot wearier emotionally, a lot harder, probably a lot less level headed. I'd maybe have more of a name for myself but not in the same kind of projects I love doing now-I probably would never have met my gorgeous, life changing partner, have started vlogging or have spent 5 years in education. I feel like at the age I am now, I'd be sick of the industry and would have started a coffee shop or worked as a journalist or something completely different.

All in all, Reader, I'm exceptionally happy with my choice. I may not be able to call myself a SG, but I love my career, my personal life and I wouldn't change a thing about how I got here. Because I wouldn't be the same person-and I kind of like me.

Ash
x

In which I disagree with someone more important than me...

Reader, the other night I went to hear a Very Important Man (VIM) who is involved in my industry speak. A lot of what he said I nodded appreciatively at, and I applauded at his work and even stood up when everyone else did at the end to give a standing ovation (although I felt a bit silly given he hadn't just performed or done a Ted Talk). But there was one thing out of all of the things he said that I really, really disagreed with.

A young student in the audience asked for advice for people who wanted to be actors and he replied, in all seriousness; 'Don't be in a relationship, don't get married, don't have kids'.

To that, I say BOLLOCKS.

In case you mis-read, that is a very clear, BOLLOCKS.

Being an actor is not always easy. When you're working, it can be the best job on earth, but the set backs are hard and sometimes it can be emotionally traumatic. Last week 3 potential, well paying, career changing jobs melted away into nothing when I found out I had been lied to by a professional catfish ( you can see the vlog on that HERE). I was gutted. I was scared. I felt invaded. But about a year ago, I was also lucky enough to meet someone who changed my life and who knows more about me than anyone else in the world, someone who I respect as an actor and producer, someone who gives great advice and who I love so much that sometimes it scares me a bit. So when at first I tried to overlook the fraud, he sat me down and gently made me look properly so that I'd see going to meet this person was unwise and would put me in an unsafe situation. When I felt stupid he told me all the thing that made him proud of me, that I often overlook. When I cried, he held me and kissed me till I stopped shaking and then sat me on a terrace in his jumper and brought me wine and chocolate. By the morning I felt ready to do detective work on the fraudster and properly report them, and felt more positive about my life.

If I had been single, I wouldn't have had that sounding board. Yes, friends and family are incredible and make my life wonderful every day, but being in a relationship you get a cheer squad of one and a partner in crime to back you up and help make difficult decisions. Now I'm not saying you need to be in a relationship as an actor, of course not! I've been single as an actor, and it was fulfilling and excellent! But it didn't make me a better actor. Nor does being in a relationship, but it gives you some much needed support in an industry that can sometimes be very lonely.

You also have someone to share the good times with-we've celebrated so many achievements together, and because he's there to see how hard I work at it, he knows how important it is when something finally pays off and we take huge amounts of joy from our successes.

Ok, so being in a relationship means that when you go to work abroad or on tour you have someone to miss, but that just means that you have something excellent to come home to. True, you can't just jet off to live in LA at a minutes notice but a) when would you have done that anyway, leaving all your family and friends behind and b) to be honest I would follow my partner anywhere, and I know he'd do the same-what matters is that we have someone to enjoy the journey with us.

Now please don't take this as me single shaming, it's not at all. I loved being single, I was great at being single, I was a single actor for a year and my career was just dandy. But don't let people tell you that being in a relationship gets in the way of your career. If you're with the right person, it supports it. You determine how your life works, how your relationships work, how your career works. If you're in a relationship that's holding you back, then it may be time to look at the dynamics of that relationship. But for goodness sake, don't give up on love just because some 'industry professional' told you to. That's their experience. Not yours.

Ash
x

10 things to do while waiting to hear the results of an audition...

Reader, I am currently waiting to hear the results of 3 auditions. All of which are for pretty huge things-now generally I am very good at just putting auditions to the back of my mind as soon as I've done them so I don't get worked up, but because all three of these projects would be amazing and also I have a cold so am stuck inside today, I am unable to think of much else. So I've decided to give you....

10 THINGS TO DO WHILE WAITING TO HEAR THE RESULTS OF AN AUDITION

1. Watch Buffy on Netflix

Because Buffy. I don't think I should have to give more of a reason for this. It's Buffy. It's excellent.

     2.  Clean your messy messy room

There is a chance I have avoided doing this, citing having a cold as the sole reason. My room currently looks like an episode of Hoarders. 

     3. Text your boyfriend and plan your next holiday together in epic detail

SO EXCITED. Pass the suncream and the travel scrabble, we're off on some adventures....

     4. Teach yourself to learn a new accent

I have tried and failed to learn New Orleans, Welsh and Arabic today

     5. Pinterest

Universal wishlist yourself into a state of near frenzy, then weep when you realise your room is not made of bare brick and full of gorgeous mis-matching vintage furniture and that you can't be bothered to make yourself a vegan superfood bowl for dinner in perfect colours and will probably end up having an egg bagel.

     6. Budget for the next million weddings you're going to

Answer? You can't afford any of them. Begin working out ways to make home-made gifts and try to work out if you can dye the last dress you wore so no one will recognise it. Try to work out ways to hitch-hike to the weddings and stay at the wedding venue for free, in a tree or something.

     7. Plan everyone's Christmas presents

Because it's June, which in Irish Catholic family terms is December 10th. And that means making roughly 30 wonky but heartfelt Christmas gifts.

    8. Try and count the number of people you know getting married or having babies

Give up and watch cartoons instead to calm down the realisation that no one is horrified by the youth of your friends who are getting married/having babies because THEY'RE NOT THAT YOUNG AND NEITHER ARE YOU. Hide under duvet.

   9. Make career plans

Have to stop because you keep factoring in this job you're waiting to hear about and that is too dangerous

   10. Check your email about a million times

Obviously not for the audition results. For other stuff. Like....uh....oh! A notification from Amazon that your new belt has shipped! That was it. Sure. 

I'm a lost cause Reader....

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

Hello 2015...

Ok. So in all reality, I should have written this blog post in January, not *looks at calendar* MIDWAY THROUGH FEBRUARY?! Bloody hell Reader, what happened?



Ok, so 2015 has been ridiculous so far. Pretty much from the second day in I've been so awash with auditions, acting jobs, teaching jobs, coaching gigs, social life stuff etc that I've not even dyed my hair yet (I think I actually have more root going on at the moment than I ever have before...seriously, it looks like a bar of chocolate dipped in carrot juice). Add to that the fact that a huge proportion of people I love were born at this time of year and you have a very expensive, very busy chunk of time...and now I have roughly a kajillion hen do's to attend as well because I am now of an age where half my friends are getting married and the other half have taken up very expensive hobbies. Like having children.

Saying that, I wouldn't have it any other way- we're both so busy and skint, the gorgeous boyfriend and I now don't feel guilty having dates where we refuse to leave the house (time spent in comfy clothes watching cartoons, cooking and playing each other music we used to listen to when we were young and stupid-or younger and more stupid-is utter bliss when our lives are so frenzied). I love having regular acting work and the projects I'm working on at the moment are interesting and varied. And of course, since I've been working so hard, I've felt no shame in booking two holidays for later this year!

I am pretty stunned looking at my diary though. Every other weekend contains a wedding, a hen do or acting work. I have wisely booked my second holiday at the end of the wedding season (when Rob and I will be so full of cake, debt and booze that a week in Tuscany sunning ourselves and weeping gently into bowls of pasta will be required). I am actually quite impressed that I am of an age where not only am I perfectly able to book hotels, hen do's, travel etc for weddings, but that I also book my own holidays. When did that happen? I'm pretty sure last week I was blissfully unaware of the price difference between flying on a weekend in school holidays and flying in a time when no one wants to travel, and the only thing I had to worry about when going to a wedding was if I could remember all the moves to the macarena.

It's looking to be a pretty fantastic year-loads of juicy acting jobs to sink my teeth into, a producer role on a film I'm very passionate about getting made, adventures to plan, family time to enjoy, friends to hang out with and celebrate massive events with and a man who not only loves me but also has taught me the joys of popcorn mixed with malteasers. 2015-I think we're going to get on.

Ash
x

Earlier and earlier every year....

So Reader, if you've followed my blog for a while, it will come as no surprise to you that Christmas is my most favourite time of year. I get craft crazy, bake all the time, generally wander round with a face like a child in a Dickens novel who's just been given entry to a toyshop.

To make sure I don't go too mad I generally instate a rule that I can't do Christmassy stuff before the 1st of December. Which means no Christmas music, food, films or decorating. Every year though, my addiction takes hold a little more, and I find excuses to get the season going earlier and earlier. Going to the annual Taste of Christmas fair with my gorgeous make up artist friend SJ (remember her? from the cake blogs?) in late November now gives me an excuse to get outrageously excited a bit early. Going to my boyfriend's hometown to have Advent Sunday dinner with his family and old friends is also going to allow me to have mince pies in November (because it would be SO RUDE not to) and the fact that I have an enormous Irish Catholic family who keep having babies means I have had an excuse to start shopping and crafting since the first of November. Last year I spent a week filming in Portugal in December so I managed to convince my housemate that we had to decorate the flat in November so we'd still get the full levels of Christmassy vibes.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still be mostly sticking to my rules-no Christmas films before 1st December (and yes, that includes Christmas TV-re-runs of Kirsty Alsops homemade Christmas and Nigella's Christmas specials are like crack to me), no christmas music on the ipod before 1st December, no opening Christmas magazines (now sat tantalizingly at the end of my bed) no reading A Christmas Carol or putting a Christmas theme on my laptop....

but...

I may have already burnt a Christmas scented candle or three....
and made Christmas pudding....
and have my home made wreath on my bedroom door...
and given my boyfriend a 'Christmas decoration starter kit' for his flat...
and coerced him and also curly one to let me come and help decorate the second they want to feel Christmassy....
And read all the Christmas catalogues from all the supermarkets and planned all the food (because they don't count...right?)

Oh dear...

Elf
x

Erm...I mean,
Ash
x

Night shooting...

Reader, it is 3.30 in the morning and I am halfway through my second night shoot in two nights. I am starting to go a little doolally. We're all that kind of exhausted where you end up having long discussions that go round and round and round, then you find yourself trapped in a discussion loop that you can't escape from. We've all just had burgers and mash, which felt weirdly indulgent in the middle of the night and we're slightly juddery from too much Diet Coke and coffee.

I quite like the whole night shoot thing. I think. But you might have to ask me again when I'm actually awake, because I'm pretty much hallucinating pink elephants at this point.

We're at the point of looking up people we fancy and trying to explain exactly why we fancy them to non-believers. The costume mistress and I have just been attempting in vain to justify our Domnhall Gleeson adoration to a confused male lead and first AD. Apparently the phrase 'I like men who look like serial killers till they smile, then they look like puppies' does not fully make sense. To be fair it is almost 4am and our brains are scrambled.

Someone is in the hallway singing 80s rock and more than half of the crew are dangling off the balcony getting a nicotine fix as the rest of us just barely stay awake.

Being this tired is a bit like being drunk, it makes me soppy and emotional and wanting to tell everyone how great everyone else is. I wax lyrical about my family, my cat, my boyfriend, my friends, my old housemate, my doctor, to anyone who will listen (or who will at least stay still for long enough for me to realise I'm monologuing).

My belly is bloated with catering table chocolate and bread and I need to go to sleep, work out and have a green smoothie or ten. Outside the window, we have a view of Tower Bridge that you'd normally pay a fortune for-it's so stunning that every time one of us looks up we gasp, even though we're all dreaming of heavy duvets and soft pillows. It's times like this being an actor is wonderful, when the cast and crew have all bonded and are laughing over new in jokes, using a private language that will vanish with the packing away of the equipment and you're seeing and doing things most people can't even conceive. When you're all on the brink of tired, slightly hysterical tears but also excitably nervous to see the finished product and everyone looks a bit like a recovering drug addict, because let's face it, no one looks good at 4.30am.

In another 3 and a half hours I'll be in my own bed, sleeping guiltily as everyone else rises.
And I'll probably still want more chocolate.
Ash
x

p.s. watch my new series of vlogs! Letters to Autumn

Reasons I'm smiling....

So Reader, yesterday I was on a train home, grinning to myself, when I overheard a lady kiss her teeth and say 'I don't know what SHE's got to smile about'. So I thought I'd share some things. In the hope that it infects. Maybe it'll get back to her and she'll not be able to help but use some of those face muscles! 

REASONS I AM SMILING GORMLESSLY

1. My train station is on a hill. Which means on my way home, I get to run down it, giggling to myself. I do this every time I come back alone, even if there are other commuters. It is JOLLY GOOD FUN.
2. I am getting to spend time with lots of my fabulous friends at the moment. Which I am LOVING.
3. Autumn/pre-christmas Winter is my favourite time of year, because of all the reasons in this video and more. I also start my Christmas prep in October, with Christmas pudding making and starting to hand design Christmas presents for my non-adult relations.
4. Halloween is just round the corner and me and two of my favourites have come up with a BRILLIANT costume idea
5. I am having some adventures in non-Englandy places soon-4 days in Italy with the parents, then 4 days in Ireland with the Partner In Crime and I can't wait!
6. I am really excited about a new career path that will hopefully run alongside my acting/vlogging/writing work. And I'm feeling motivated about it! Which is all jolly nice.
7. I have discovered exercise is actually giving me more energy than usual and am actually ENJOYING working out four times a week ( I know, feel free to throw shoes at my head etc)
8. I am baking on Wednesday. I blooming love baking.
9. Guardians of The Galaxy exists. And for that we should all be grateful.
10. Everywhere smells of autumn at the moment-my room has orange and cinnamon candles burning, walking home from the station I could smell bonfires and damp and roast dinner smell eminates from every home. Lush.
11. Curly One has moved into THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GROWN UP HOUSE and it is only 20 minutes on the train from me. Which is just deliciously delightful. And I was able to help her move in, which made me happy.
12. I got to catch up with my beloved make-up artist/prosthetics guru SJ this week. Long time followers of this blog may remember that SJ and I used to do cake shop reviews here-keep your eyes peeled on my vlogging channel-this Christmas, we are potentially doing a short Christmas series! Cakes, crafts and canny behaviour...
13. School kids are back in school. Which means the streets are mine again! (I love having non conventional working hours...)
14. This year, long flowy coats are in fashion. Which means walking round pretending to be a Daphne Du Maurier heroine
15. I was introduced to THE GREATEST TEA PLACE today at the Leicester Square Arts Theatre. It's called Madd Hatter's, and they make Tea Lattes. In flavours so wonderful you'll want to cry, like candyfloss. And they have Oreo cake. And iced tea that tastes like it has a bucket of sugar in but actually only has one teaspoon per TEN SERVINGS. I may never leave.

Anyway my dear darling lovely Reader, I hope you have lots of reasons for smiling too-and remember-you're all reasons for me to smile too!

Remember not to kick piles of leaves-hedgehogs like to sleep there

Ash

x

Things that go through my head at 3.29am...

Reader, it is 3.29am and I am still awake. There are a number of reasons for this. I had a nap today that ended up being a bit too long, I drank too much diet coke too late, I ate too much cheese and now have heartburn, I'm excited about a script idea I had (and then wrote the full script for) and my brain won't shut up. So here is a list of all the things that have been going through my head tonight as I've lain in bed.



Things thunk.

• Maaaaan I shouldn't have eaten so much bad stuff today
• But all that cheese was tasty. And the giant yorkshire pudding filled with yumminess
• Although lunch alone was more calories than I should have in a day
• Why am I thinking about calories? I'll just have a green smoothie day tomorrow
• Maybe it's the green smoothies giving me heartburn
• Who do I think I'm kidding? It's the cheese. I wish it wasn't. Bloody Boursin. Being all delicious. 
• I wonder how I'd look blonde?
• I wonder how I'd look with blue hair?
• I should get blue hair
• Although that might slightly change my casting
• Let's be honest, I'm not badass enough to be a punk girl
• Quirky yes, punk, not so much
• Was that a spider?
• Nope, just a daddy long legs.
• Shit. That's annoying. STOP BASHING MY COMPUTER SCREEN.
• Who would I thank if I won a Bafta?
• Twelve people and counting
• I wish I could just wake up tomorrow with a driver's license 
• I've packed five boxes. Why does my room look messier?
• Why is there a spoon on my floor?
• Did I put it there for a reason?
• Is the spoon there to remind me of something? Like a knot in a hankie? 
• I wonder if anyone apart from Granddad Ian still uses actual hankies...
• I'm going to learn how to play the ukulele. 
• Crap, out of water AGAIN
• Can't get up, too cosy. Besides, hallways are where the shadow monsters live
• WHAT WAS THAT NOISE???
• Damn boyfriend....living on the other side of London...
• I really want some Millionaire's cheesecake
• No. No more dairy. Poor chest.
• Dairy is why I'm this curvy. I'm certain. My boobs are this big purely because of Wensleydale and Brie. 
• I need more boxes
• How the fuck am I going to get my bed out of the flat? I'll have to dismantle it before it goes to its temporary new home
• I COULD watch some more Dead Like Me on Netflix...Nah, save it for background noise tomorrow
• Is it autumn yet? 
• I'm going to miss all my stuff
• Need to apply for more work
• If I had more work I could rent the cutest little studio flat...
• Or a HOUSE if I lived in Yorkshire
• But then I'd have to live in Yorkshire. I'd miss the city too much.
• I bet my brother's awake
• Best not to call him though
• But I'm SO BORED.
• Fuck. Nearly 4am.
• Maybe I should try and sleep again.
• I could sleep in a hammock right now
• Mmmm....hammock....

And with THAT Reader, I feel able to try a doze....Goodnight! (or rather, good morning!)

Ash

x

The lost romance of coaching...

Reader, I am back from 11 days performing at the Edinburgh Festival. What an experience! Getting in before 2am of a night was impressively puritanical, finding food that wasn’t beige and deep fried became a fun new game, as did booking shows that started ten minutes after another ended, but that were 20 minutes away. I slept on a mattress topper in a room with 3 other girls, and felt lucky that I had so much space to stretch out. I saw shows that made me laugh, shows that made me cry and shows that made me question if maybe the creator’s parents hadn’t been a bit too kind about their efforts. I used Skype for the first time and sent postcards to someone important who was still in London, when my parents visited I begged them to take me somewhere, anywhere where I could even look at a bit of lettuce. I drank shots from test tubes, did Jagerbombs, had a cocktail so strong my eyes hurt and a hangover so awful that we introduced a new method of flyering that involved laying on the floor. We almost sold out and then had a two person audience (who were bloody brilliant and apparently thought our show was the best thing they’d seen). My shoes fell apart in the rain, my clothes went through a wash yet somehow are STILL all stinky and have bits of booze and toothpaste on them and I overheard someone utter the eternally brilliant phrase ‘that man was just too Scottish’. Edinburgh, I shall miss you. On top of all of this was the beauty of the city, the meadows (which I fell in love with walking through alone with music playing in my ears first thing in the morning (by which I mean 11am) and last thing at night (4am), the laughter, the music, the magic.

And then. Then, dear, beloved reader, came the eight and a half coach journey home. Which I am still on as I write this. I am two and a half hours into it in fact. The heating by my feet is making my ankles sweat, the un-turn-off-able air condition above my head is giving me brain freeze and somehow, the whole bus already smells a bit of wee. Thankfully no one on here is drunk, and the inevitable two year old (who brings a two year old on a coach? Seriously?!) has yet to make a peep. However it is past midnight, and having already slept for an hour of the journey, my neck is in pain and my lower back is so squished I’m sure I’m going to be walking like Smeegol when I get off the damn thing. The reading light doesn’t work and really, shouldn’t all overnight coaches have plugs and beds by now? I thought it would be a little like the Knight Bus in Harry Potter but it’s actually just like a normal coach only full of hungover festival goers and with less lighting. I need to learn how to drive.

On this particular coach, we have the enormous family of 6 (with toddler) who don’t seem to understand where they’re going or what a coach is, a group of Chinese students who instantly annoyed the British contingent by not understanding queueing (cue instant tutting), some French performers who have already had a passionate row and complained to the driver, a large woman who won’t stop eating, a small man who keeps rushing to the loo (I don’t want to know), some really grumpy stand ups and a girl who has been quietly but audibly crying since we left the bus station. Or laughing very oddly. It’s sort of hard to tell.

Everyone else on the coach appears to be asleep or meditating in the dark, but after two weeks of only sleeping at 3am at the very earliest, I want to read my book or have a conversation. If I was still in Edinburgh I would probably be at a show right now. Or a bar. Or at the flat having a Skype date. But instead I am writing this blog entry. Which won’t go up till tomorrow, when I am face down in my bed. I cannot wait to be face down in my bed. I actually changed the sheets before I came out to Scotland in preparation.

Anyway, my laptop is running out of power and I reckon I might give sleeping another go-although being the only one on the coach awake makes me feel pleasingly like the badass kid in Battle Royale.

Have a fabulous day not on a coach Reader!
Ash

x

Hoots mon! (etc. etc....)

Well Reader, it is 8am on my third day at The Edinburgh Fringe and the sun is shining! Which is very exciting, because yesterday I was flyering in the rain all day and ended up having to buy an incredibly attractive mould coloured cagoule and some sensible shoes. And you know how I feel about sensible shoes.

So far I've been trying not to go too crazy at the fringe because a) I'm skint and b) I really don't want to make myself ill. Saying that, the first night here I stayed up till 4am drinking and reminicing with long-lost university friends after their show (The Noise Next Door at The Pleasance Venue 2, doing their Comedy Lock In-go see it, bloody fantastic), which was awesome but made yesterday's flyering doubly hard. Today I have had a full eight and a half hours sleep so am feeling more ready to face the day with a smile on my face and a skip in my step.

Audience feedback has started coming in about the show and so far it's been amazing-one person described it as 'the best thing I've seen. Wept like a baby' and we've had loads more like that. We overheard an audience say, as they left the space yesterday 'That was so fucking good!' which made all of our days. Long may it continue!

I haven't seen many shows so far, but today I'm going to change that with one this morning and another after a launch party I'm going to. Then I'm rather intending to go drink cocktails and sing karaoke if I'm entirely honest...

So far I have discovered the following about the fringe

• You will probably find it hard to eat healthily-everything is deep fried and DELICIOUS. My favourite thing so far has been a crepe with cheese and peperoni...mmmm...
• The Mile is intense. Think hundreds of drama students with hangovers. Some really cynical comedians who won't do flyer swaps, a dotting of incredibly young students who can't quite believe they're there, a terrifying duo in white clown make up and inevitably someone pretending to be crazy dressed in period clothes.
• There are NO POST BOXES. It took me an hour and a half to find one yesterday! 
• The free fringe has some blooming brilliant stuff on it. Today I'm going to see a comedian who (like us) is supporting Death on The Fringe who we saw an excerpt of on my first day. She talks about the love of her life dying and her coping with it (she's only 33) and it is the most hilarious, tragic, bittersweet stuff I've ever seen. Will be bringing tissues and fresh make up.
• I am very good at flyering. I am quite smug about this. Scratch that. I am HUGELY smug about this.
•  I am already a little bit homesick for my local giant 24 hour Asda-Tesco express doesn't really cut it
• I should not hug friends just before they go on stage, because I will inevitably spill my drink on them (sorry Tom Livingstone!) making me look drunk even when sober. Scotland has done nothing for my hand-eye coordination it seems.
• I get lost very easily. Yesterday, not only did it take me almost 2 hours to get home (usually a 30 min trip), I also go disorientated on The Mile and forgot which end my theatre was at...
• Drinks are brilliantly cheap. Dangerously cheap.
• Sleeping on a mattress topper on the floor actually isn't too uncomfortable
• Sometimes you'll be half an hour into conversation with an eccentric when suddenly you realise that they're in character.
• Lots of tourists come to Edinburgh during the Fringe to NOT watch theatre or comedy. They are clearly eegits. 
• There is a ghost bus here. I want to go on it SO MUCH.

More updates to come (unless my liver implodes and I get scurvy or trench foot)

Ash

x

S*** no one tells you about depression...

So Reader, one thing you might not know about me is that when I was at university, many years ago, I was diagnosed with depression. Now, don't freak out on me (people have done in the past), this doesn't mean what the media sometimes makes it out to mean. I'm not suicidal, I'm not really sad all the time, nor am I the quiet po-faced one in the corner at parties.

First off, I am actually very lucky. I'm on the much much lower end of the depression spectrum compared to most people. A couple of times in a year, it flares up a bit, and it's like the chemicals inside my brain go a bit out of wack when it comes to coping with things and my emotions. The rest of the year, I am an incredibly happy little bunny. I have been known as 'Little miss optimist' and 'Lady cheery' in my time. I am inevitably the one offering solutions to problems with a side of cupcake and wishing on stars and generally acting like a Disney princess on a lot of sugar. In the times that I am sad (which I what I normally say, as the term 'Depression' never seemss quite right), I will rarely tell anyone, which is why very few people know I have the big D (yes, I just laughed at the innuendo there too). Most of the time I don't even realise it's happening until I'm deep into it and then I go 'Oooohhh, yeah-that's what that is!' I don't medicate, when I was at uni a really lovely doctor gave me great lifestyle and food advice to help as I wasn't up for taking anything strong and I find that stuff like eating nice food and getting light exercise and as much sunshine as possible tends to help. Even when I am suffering from a bout of it, I'm pretty functional and able to laugh and socialise with my friends and dates etc. What is pretty interesting to me though, is that, because I only developed depression later in life, I had read a lot of mentions to it in books and magazines, and seen it on films and tv, which I think is why I didn't recognise it when it happened to me-because it's actually different for everyone, which the media doesn't really show. So here's a little list of some things I discovered myself...

SHIT NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT DEPRESSION

• You're not necessarily sad

I'm going to be honest with you folks, the sad bit doesn't always turn up. Sometimes it does, and that sucks in its own special way, but a lot of time in my experience, depression is like the absence of emotion. Nothing affects you. It's like you're down a well, or as my dear friend says 'bubbled'. I tend to find that I veer from being utterly unable to feel or be affected by anything to being panicky and sad in one fell swoop-usually I won't even know what about. Which reminds me....

• There is rarely a reason for you being depressed

When they hear I'm depressed, usually the first thing they ask is 'Why?' More often than not, the answer is 'I have no freakin' idea!' Although situations can be the trigger for depressed phases, more often than not it's just your body chemistry being a twat. Women with depression often find that flare ups happen pre-period or around pregnancy, because hormones also play a huge part in it (but ask if we're sad because of our period and you will likely get a punch in the face). Despite this, sometimes it helps to rant about everything that sucks in your life and cry about it (note, most of the time I think my life is awesome and wonderful-when I'm depressed everything develops a really long shadow and my mind palace turns into a mind dungeon, where even the nice things are slime-covered. Metaphors for THE WIN). I actually did this a few nights ago with my parents (my mum has a terrifying ability to notice I'm on the edge of emotional freak out before even I do) and it really helps. 

• Depression makes your sleep cycle freak out

One of my friends can't sleep when she's depressed. When mine flares up, I am constantly exhausted and tend to need naps, early nights and still can't function without caffeine. For me, the trick is to push through that and go on walks and do exercise classes. When I was first diagnosed, I would wake up in the middle of the night and have to clean my room or check my banking stuff. Now I just fall asleep everywhere-on buses, sofas, trains...it's pretty weird.

•  It can make you super productive...or unable to do anything

One of the few ways I know to escape my depression is by making myself keep very busy (which ironically is how I sometimes wind up having a flare up) and because my brain doesn't want to think about the chemical chaos going on inside it, it's only too happy to allow itself to be distracted. So sometimes in the midst of depression I'm wildly productive, cleaning my room within an inch of its life, bleaching floors, doing so much admin my laptop smokes-and then at other times, the lethargy takes over and I have such small amounts of energy, even the thought of getting out of bed seems like the most impossible thing in the world. The latter is obviously far worse, because the more you feel like that, the harder it is to battle out of the murk. And given that I'm a freelancer, time not spent working is time that I don't get paid-not ideal to say the least. Interestingly, I've never found it's affected my ability to perform-even at my worst, I've been able to get up, go to rehearsal and do my best. I find that because I'm focussing on the character's issues rather than my own, I'm able to escape from it all for a while, or at times, use it to give the character more honesty. Which is one of the reasons that I think the prospect of schools removing drama from the syllabus is ridiculous, for some kids drama is a lifeline. Sadly our conservative government doesn't realise how important a wide range of classes truly is. 

• You can sometimes go for a few years without a flare up

For a while after drama school, my depression didn't flare up at all. I had about a year and a half where I had normal emotions, normal reactions to things and I sort of thought I'd escaped it. When I was sad, it was normal levels of sadness. When I was stressed, it was normal levels of stress. It was fabulous! And then, without warning, one day it hit again. I felt so ashamed and sad that it was back that I hid it from everyone until it had passed. My ex didn't even know I had depression until the 4th year of us being together, mainly because I didn't tell him until we were living together and I had my first flare up in ages. This is a bit of a routine, the shame and the hiding. I think everyone normally sees me as so positive they could puke, so when I can't be like that I feel like I've let people down. And the guilt of being so unhappy when there's nothing really 'wrong' is killer. I've got a lot more used to it over the years, but I still have issues talking about it and vocalising how I'm feeling. I've never been particularly good at accepting help. 

• Talking about it doesn't always help

Sometimes it does. Sometimes I really don't want to discuss it. Because it will make me think about it more. And actually, pretending it's a small child having a temper tantrum is sometimes the best way to cope with it. Don't get me wrong, at times a good talk is very much needed, but on days where I'm just about holding it together, I don't want to explain my feelings because I have too much to get on with to wallow in it. Which brings up another point...

• It's really hard not to wallow in it

Depression is like really warm, comfy quicksand. You know it's bad for you. You know the longer you're in it, the worse it's going to be for you in the long run, but it's so easy just to lay back and let it happen. One of the hardest parts for me in a flare up is not indulging myself, because it would be so easy just to stay in bed all day, lock my door and cry. When I'm feeling like this I keep reaaaally busy, so that I don't even have the choice to stay in all day. I know out of experience that if I give into it, it's much harder to lever myself out and into normality. But this has to be something that I do myself-if someone who doesn't know what it's like were to tell me to 'snap out of it' it would increase the guilt, worry and panic ten fold. 

So yeah! Some stuff about depression and some of the crap that the books don't really talk about. The thing is Reader, it's completely different for everyone. I cannot stress how lucky I am that I only have to deal with this crap a couple of days or weeks in the year-I have friends that deal with it on a day to day basis and I can't imagine how hard it must be for them. I have friends who have manic depression, schizophrenia or bi-polar who you would never guess had it because they are incredibly good at hiding it. 

Anyway, cheerio Reader! I hope you've learnt things from this little blog entry!

Ash

x

Roads and paths and potential...

Reader, today was such a beautiful day. The sun shone and in North London, everyone looked brighter and prettier. Even the football yobs looked cuter and less gruff. Meanwhile, I could not settle. Which seems to be a metaphor for my life at the moment. As an actor, life is never going to be simple and straightforward and easy. I know that. At the moment I am struggling a bit with it though. The thing is, I'm in my mid twenties and all my friends are starting to settle down. I am fully booked with weddings this year and I have a lot of new babies to meet. Mortgages are being bought, people are earning enough to go on nice holidays and invest in pensions. While all that is going on, I am facing the possibility of having to move back in with my parents in August, trying to decide if a short term move to New York would make sense for my life at the end of this year/beginning of next, waiting to see 3 films I've shot this year and waiting to hear back about the feature film that is potentially a career changer, that I've been promised a main part in but don't have a contract for.

Life feels like it's very wispy at the moment. Which doesn't make me want to give up being an actor, even though it's a bit scary. It makes me wish I wanted to do something else. But I don't. I have to be an actor. I can't even contemplate doing anything else (believe me, I've tried). It's difficult to think of my life being so transient when I'm older, which is why I'm trying to come up with more ways to keep money coming in (like writing and vlogging-hopefully things which will keep me acting for longer if I can work out a way to monetise them). The thing is, I think I could handle being skint and flighty forever-if it wasn't for the fact that I want children. If you're a regular reader, you'll know that I had a health scare a couple of years ago that led to me being forced to work out quite fast if I wanted kids or not and the positive that came out of an unpleasant situation was that it helped me realise how I needed to be a mother. But you can't be a mother if you can't support the child.

Saying that, some things give me hope. My mum told me recently about how she sat in her car once when I was very little as the radio told her that interest rates on mortgages had gone up and just cried because she was convinced they were going to lose our house. Then she thought about it and realised that she could always move (with me-aged 6, my father and my baby brother aged 1) into the top bedroom of her parents home. She was in her mid thirties at that point and it really reassured me. Yes, I have chosen a career that will take me up and down and all around the hedges, but if my mother (the strongest woman I know, who now runs an incredibly successful business and lives in an insanely beautiful house with my dad) in her mid thirties was married, had a 'proper' job and was not in the middle of an economic depression and STILL dealt the prospect of moving back in with her parents (with two kids and a husband no less), then maybe I shouldn't give myself so much of a hard time about the idea of moving back in with mine for a couple of months. Especially when doing so could mean moving to New York for a while (and thus fulfilling one of my big dreams).

The thing is, if I could afford holidays, a house and knew EXACTLY where my life was going while working in a 9-5 job that I wasn't really passionate about, I truly believe I would end up killing myself or shaving my head in roughly a week. Life as an actor may be really difficult sometimes and I may be so poor that I have to accept food parcels from my parents on occasions, but the pay-off, getting to feel completely fulfilled every time I go on stage or see one of my films on the big screen or tv or hear my voice at an awards ceremony or on the radio, is worth it. The moments when I'm sitting in a recording booth or playing out a scene make every time I've worried about my bank balance, cried over a boy, felt fat or been lost out on jobs suddenly not matter. Because I know what I'm doing. And I feel incredible. I feel high, like I've taken the worlds best drug or spun round in a circle for an hour. I can't even explain it. I'm addicted. It's better than sex or chocolate or winning monopoly. It's even better than finishing the Evening Standard crossword by myself in less than four stops on the tube.

Which is why, even though I'm scared about the future, I can't kick the habit just yet. Because it feels much, much too good. Acting is like having an incredible affair with James Bond. He's not always in the country but when he is-DEAR GOD.

Get it Reader?
Ash
x

Filming in the countryside...

So Reader, I've just returned from a few days working on 'The Kepler Deception' for Sky Sci-Fi channel in the wilds of Dorset with the fantastic people of Scanach Media Productions. Filming in the countryside is always interesting, from the people (we had a taxi driver who was best friends with Ray Mears and spends 3 months a year living with the Masai tribe!) to the weather (flooded roads meant our trips to set sometimes took twice the time they should have) and the locations (it was like filming Lord of The Rings. So much greenery...). I'm hoping the film is going to look rather beautiful, as the setting was fantastic!

We were staying in a couple of cottage/villa type houses on a working dairy farm, the crew in one house, the cast in the other and there was nothing in walking distance. And by nothing, I really do mean nothing. No pubs, no newsagents. Nothing. So making our own entertainment was an important part of the experience. Luckily, we're a resourceful bunch and every night made a group dinner together (my chef night recipe was caramelised onion and Gruyere tart with all the trimmings) and took the mick out of the people on tv a lot. One terrible thing did come of this though-I am now slightly addicted to Take Me Out. I'd never seen it before, and it is truly awful programming, but making fun of the people on it is a truly joyful experience. They are so cheesy, and so brilliantly, brilliantly thick. But now I want more. So far I have resisted the urge to watch another episode, but I don't know how long I'll be able to hold out! Send help!

Now I'm in serious recovery mode. After three days of getting up at 6.30 and working till late in rain soaked, windy conditions and travelling all the way to Dorset, I seriously need a break. In fact, I'm planning on booking a day of massages, manicures, pedicures and sofa time next week-I've had a headache for the past two days so some downtime needs to happen. But have some lovely things coming up-it's my gorgeous mum's birthday this weekend, so I finally get to give her the spoiling she deserves, Saturday I'm babysitting for my adorable godson AG, who I'm planning on giving all my cuddles to (he's at the age where he'll let you hug him, so I am taking full advantage) and during the day I'll be trying on bridesmaids dresses with The Bride and some of the other girls as well as a lovely lunch!

For my latest vlog on my filming exploits, go here (if you click on my picture below the video, you'll also find all my other vlogs too!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7Fi1IOBcNk

Tarrah chaps!
Ash
x

Big City Life...

The thing is Reader, living in London is awesome. Seriously. If you haven't tried it yet, you are a loonie bin and should come for a visit. Sometimes I look at my life and go 'wow. I'm living in a Richard Curtis film.'

I'm sitting on my bed in North London, drinking a glass of vodka and diet coke with lots of candles burning, my housemate is about to show up with some friends and more booze, I have frozen yoghurt in the freezer and the music my downstairs neighbour is playing is so good that I just had a dancing/jumping on my bed session. Tomorrow, I'm taking driving lessons so I can do more film work. This week I'm going ice skating. For the past couple of nights I've watched a tv show I was in for the BBC. There is no part of this that is not AWE-INSPIRING.

2014 is doing well. A short film I wrote for SKY is in production, another is in Pre-Production with one woman MACHINE Caley Powell and every week I get another exciting bit of news about stuff going on later in the year. I'm going to be a bridesmaid for the first time since my boobs grew in and my gorgeous friend The Bride has great taste so I won't be stuck in a fuchsia silk monstrosity for the whole thing.

Frankly, living in London makes me very happy. On Monday evening I'm going for cocktails in SoHo with my producer Gary Morecambe and talented writer Vicki Baron of Empty Photo Theatre (read their blog here: http://emptyphototheatre.wordpress.com/ ) to discuss our next tv project together and at the end of next week I'm off for a week filming on SKY Sci-Fi film 'Kepler' with Scanach Media. I'm also going to take a day to go and sit in South Bank with my notepad and work on the book I'm writing, it's an incredibly beautiful area  and incredible for inspiration.

There's something about being in London that makes you feel like every day is rife with possibility, you could do anything and be anyone. You can be completely anonymous or you can surround yourself with loved ones. And right now? It's where I need to be.

So here's to London, with it's grimy streets and tame foxes. Here's to crotchety black cab drivers and hipster cyclists. Here's to 24 hour Asda, buskers and street lights gleaming through a heady mist of rain. Here's to street food and Soho and secret places that you accidentally discover when you've walked past it every day for a year. Here's to drunk teens on the underground, strange flavoured ice cream in Camden and the view from London bridge. Here's to London. And all it signifies.

Londoney love Reader!
Ash
x

Oh god, she keeps coming back...

Reader, here I was, wrapping presents and playing Christmas music when all of a sudden, with a flash and a bang, 17 year old me fell onto the couch next to me.

OI! I was just wrapping nan's Christmas pressie!

Dear child, putting things in plastic bags and securing them with duct tape does not wrapping make.

Well Mum's hidden all the wrapping paper!

One day you will learn to buy wrapping paper ages ahead of time. In fact, you'll pride yourself on getting the sparkliest, shinest tat wrapping paper there is!

Don't have to worry about that for a while though, do I? God, I am SO EXCITED! I can't wait to put out the mince pie and sherry and carrots for the reindeers! 

Yeah, me too. Although Dad made some noises about us stopping that this year.

WHAT?!

I know! Bloody ridiculous! I told him that we will only stop doing that once I have kids! And then they will do it and I'll be Santa! (Although I might make him dress up like Granddad used to. We already got him a reindeer onesie)

So what have you asked for this year from Santa?

A few things-a camera that I can vlog with next year (hey, maybe I'll be able to catch you on tape next year!), some nice underwear, gorgeous stockings and tights and various other bits and bobs

Whats a 'vlog'?

It's like a video version of a blog, kind of like...erm...wait, you wouldn't know any of the vloggers I watch, I don't think they've even started when I'm 17. Keep an eye out for Anna Akana and KatersOneSeven though, they're going to be big. So will Jenna Marbles, but you'll get a bit frustrated with how she talks about other women.

Cool! I've asked for Bon-fite' make up and the Arctic Monkey's album. Oh, and this really nice mini kilt from Camden.

First off, it's pronounced 'Benefit' not 'bon-bloody-fite'' Don't be an eejit. And mini kilts make you look like a tarty goth. Especially when you wear them with your fishnets and that strap top.

Nah, everyone wears them!

No everyone bloody doesn't! Oh go on, enjoy them while you can. Soon you'll be too busty to pull that look off anyway.

I reaaaally want a dress from the fifties shop under the bridge in Camden too. You know, the ones with the pinched waists?

Yeah, that's what's known as 'THE PERFECT GIFT'. We'd still happily get a new one of those with a different design for every special occasion. In fact, I might ask for one for my next birthday! You actually have quite a few of those dresses, but they work SO well with your figure. Jeans however, are a lost cause. Our hips are way too big. We are very much a dress girl in our mid twenties.

I never wear dresses!

I know. You learn to. In your first year of uni you turn properly vintage and wear a pencil skirt and heels every day. We've relaxed a bit now, but we still like to crack out the 50's clothes at least once a week. The only reason we have jeans in our wardrobe is for costumes!

Odd. I love my skinny jeans.

That's because you have a tiny bum at the moment.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'AT THE MOMENT'????!!!

Er....nothing. Nothing at all. Just cherish it (while you can)

You look really tired today

Wow. Thanks, you really know how to give a girl a compliment

But you do! Your hair is all sticky-uppy and you're wearing men's pyjamas and one of your eyes is half closed! You look like an advert for coffee!

Good. Getting judged by a 17 year old version of myself. Nice. If you must know, I was out with mum and the ladies who work in her company last night and I'm a bit knackered today!

Loser, I've been out at the Mean Fiddler till 5 this morning and I'm off to have lunch with the girls! Right. Bye then! Merry Christmas!

(Bang, crash, wallop)

Off you go, you ridiculous creature.

And merry Christmas to you Reader! May it be full of sugar plums and pine and snow!

Festive tarrahs

Ash
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