By Aislinn De'Ath

By Aislinn De'Ath
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Showing posts with label boyfriend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boyfriend. Show all posts

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

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

Thursday, 26 February 2015

Mornings where you wake up all Disney...




Reader, I am having one of those mornings where I've woken up with a smile on my face. I have one really swollen eye (I don't know why but it's really sore and I look a bit like Igor) but I still feel like Ariel when she wakes up in that plush bed in Eric's castle (only I've woken up in Primark sheets and a bed covered with unpacked clothes rather than royal crests and velvet) and she does a cute yawn and bounds around like a Labrador puppy.

There may well be a few reasons for this: I've just had a stellar week that started with a lovely weekend of socialising and relaxing with the Partner In Crime and was then followed by us being guest lecturers at Falmouth University, working with passionate industry experts and inspiring students. It's also gloriously sunny this morning and I awoke to birdsong, which always puts a huge smile on my face-it feels like summer is finally starting to wake up again and I for one could not be more ready for it. What else? Well it's my birthday next week and I am terrifically excited-I'm planning to take the day itself off and sleep in and wear PJs all day (UTTER BLISS) and PIC has planned all sorts of surprises for me which no one has really managed to do before. Also my dress for the day we're going out has just arrived and it is slightly too big despite a week of terrible eating (WIN) but is also gorgeous and perfectly coloured. Tonight I'm taking my gorgeous mum to the theatre to see 'Women on The Verge of a Nervous Breakdown' for her birthday, and we always have a fabulous time when we go out! I think I also had nice dreams, because I woke up with that 'lovely sugar plums and dancing beans happened last night' feeling. I think it was something to do with the future and how delightful it's going to be, because I also had that zen, blissed sense that everything in life was going to be wonderful and sparkly.

So if you see someone with a really swollen Igor eye skipping through London singing to themselves, don't be afraid-hyperactive mutants aren't taking over the city-it's just me getting on with my day.

Hope yours is just as cheery Reader!
Ash
x

Tuesday, 10 February 2015

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

Sunday, 9 November 2014

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

Sunday, 8 May 2011

Meet my neuroses...

Reader, I know I seem to be a shining beacon of glowing confidence and self-trust but I'm afraid it's all a lie. The fact of the matter is Reader, that were you to peel back my pale, pale skin, you'd find not organs, but fears, worries and niggles, all wrapped in a juicy coating of hysteria. Here are a few that keep me constantly on the edge of hyperventilation.

1) Being Late


Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-I'm-going-to-be-late-crap-crap-crap-why-isn't-the-train-here-yet-I'll-never-get-employed-ever-again-they'll-not-pay-me-then-a-big-scary-man-with-bad-breath-and-a-comb-over-will-shout-at-me-and-make-me-stand-in-the-corner. Yes, this is how my mind works. Even if I'm not late. Usually just when I'm not outrageously early and have to sit with a book (n.b. being early does not scare me, although I enjoy it less now that I don't smoke and it's not an excuse for chain smoking any more). This means that I now have a reputation for turning up to friends' houses when they're still in the bath, because to everyone else 7.30 means 8, but to me it means 6.45. I think it was further stressed when I went to Drama School, where they had a 'if you're even one minute late you get shut out for the rest of the day' rule, which terrified me, because I just knew if I ever missed classes because of lateness, it would be the ones that I would really learn things from. So I ended up being on great terms with the security guards, because I was always the one they unlocked the doors for first thing in the morning, even when I had later classes. This has led to me needing to go to sleep very early at night, so like a granny, at about 8.30 I start yawning at thinking of how jolly nice it would be in my bed. Employees however, love me, because I am NEVER late. Ever. And sometimes I'm actually too early (this has happened before at auditions, where I'll have arrived before the auditioners!)

2) All my hair falling out


This isn't actually that unfounded a fear. Last year, during a particularly stressful patch at school, my hair started to fall out. I am unfortunately not a natural beauty Reader, but my hair has always been rather a crowning glory. We have always had a great relationship, and even years of smoking and dyeing the stuff didn't make it lose its shine and thickness. Long days of lessons, peer pressures, stresses of work and very little sleep however, did. I'd wake up in the morning and there would be hair all over my pillow. I'd take a bath and when I got out, the surface would be covered by my hair. I felt like the mean girl in that film about witches (Can't remember what on earth it was called but am sure it started with C) only I'm not a bitchy racist cheerleader. Now, my hair is much repaired thanks to primrose oil tablets and a bit more free time, but I still have that fear on looking like a boiled egg my whole life. That would be AWFUL.

3) Spiders crawling into my mouth while I'm asleep


Urgh. I hate spiders. I watched Arachnophobia when I was a kid, and I've never really recovered. Even tiny wee money spiders provoke screams of horror and prisons made of water tumblers. They just look mean. Like evil. And they always sit on the ceiling, just out of reach, looking at me cruelly with their beady little disgusting eyes. I wouldn't even be that pissed off if they were made extinct due to some huge   spider based flu.

4) My belly button unravelling and all my guts falling out


This one stems from someone telling me that belly buttons are made when the nurse ties your cord up when you're a baby. So it makes sense that it could just untie. Right? Right? Um...

5) Forgetting that I've given up smoking and accidentally having a puff


Because that would lead to a whole fag, and that would lead to a packet and then I'd be an addict again and I never ever ever want to be that reliant on a drug ever again. I used to spend about £55 a month on fags, money that now, I'm so confused I was even able to spend. I used to live off 8p noodles, so that I could afford baccy and filters. Utterly insane. And I always smelt like a granny. And my teeth went a shade of yellow that only a hygienist could remove. When I first gave up I had actual nightmares about smoking again, and then I'd wake up and be like 'argh, ohmygod, what have I DONE?!' But am quite proud that I've given up for over a year now. I should get a pressie.

6) My cellulite being worse than I think it is


It's there, it's bit, it could hold Armenian families, and it's the reason you'll never see me in a pair of hotpants without tights or leggings underneath. But what if it's even worse than that? What if, when I wear a swimsuit or  a short dress, everyone does silent screams and vomits in pot plants. Hey. It could happen. Maybe everyone always carries tictacs just in case they see the backs of my thighs. Oh god.

7) Beetroot


It's smug and it makes you pee red. Just plain wrong.

8) Having a bogey hanging off my nose


Just awful. I've seen it happen to other people, and it's gross. In the same way, earwax on display (nothing is a bigger turn off than seeing a guy with a big yellow glob in his ear), that white gack you get in the corner of your mouth and my tights being tucked into my pants. I also have a fear of my boob escaping my bra and a nipple being on display, because the idea of going on the tube and not realising as my nipples wink at strangers is unbearable.

9) People thinking I fancy them when I don't


The problem is, I love flirting, and banter. And because I'm an actor, lots of eye contact is second nature. But people then think I have a thing for them. And if I get a sense that they think that, I get really unbearably embarrassed, blush whenever I see them, stumble over my words and act like a fool. So basically, act like I fancy them, which makes it all the worse. It's exactly the same when I get accused of something I haven't done. I blush, giggle, get shifty. Basically I am useless.

10) Loved ones being dead in a ditch


This dates back to my parents telling me that if I didn't let them know where I was going to be I could just wind up dead in a ditch and they wouldn't know. I used the phrase today when The Lad hadn't got in touch for a whole day (am I the only one that thinks that's ages, or is that just another neurotic thing about me?) and when I finally spoke to him I said 'Where were you? I thought you were dead in a ditch!' At which he was very confused and reminded me that there aren't actually any ditches in South Ealing, and had in fact been playing on Final Fantasy on his phone, hence the lack of contact. He is, of course, now more aware than ever that his girlfriend is completely bonkers. Especially since I then got annoyed because I said I missed him and he said he didn't miss me back. To be fair to him, he did say he loved me very much and would be very happy to see me every day, it's just that he doesn't feel he needs to see me every day. Which is where another of my neuroses comes into play...

11) He doesn't love you, he's just with you because you're really needy


The poor Lad is constantly fighting this particular neuroses. It's highly unlikely that he would have done a long distance relationship, meeting my mental rellies, be moving in with me etc if he just felt trapped but the fear is still there. Every so often it's like a little monster within takes over and goes 'You're completely mental! He can't possibly be attracted to an UTTER LOON like you! You keep asking him if he'd still love you if you were bald or obese or had a leg missing! Poor boy, turn your back and he'll run for the hills with that female friend of his who's much prettier than you and is really really funny and not just in a ha-ha-look-at-that-idiot-way'. I have been told this is actually quite normal. Most girls feel it at some point. In fact, lots  of girls feel like that ALL THE TIME which is a shame for them really. Anyway, I try to ignore the voice, because I think I would probably turn into a needy, snivelling little freak if I didn't. And that is MOST unattractive.

I'll end it there Reader, before I rub off on you and you go away all neurotic and stuff! After all, I don't want loads of readers constantly asking if they're doing it right or getting scared of the typeface!
Ash
x

Sunday, 17 April 2011

Crème egg omelette

Here's the thing Reader; Even though I have been with the boyfriend for two delightful years now, he is still not allowed to come to certain family events. There is quite a good reason for this. It is because he would definitely go off me and be so horrified that he might put me on some kind of black list. And most likely, dump me (only it would be less dumping, more never returning my calls ever again in the fear that somehow my craziness would turn from the family tradition kind to the chopping up boyfriends kind). And it's not just that, I might feel like I had to somehow reign myself in, and that just wouldn't be fun at all! Then I might feel disgruntled, and I'm actually quite concerned that a me without mental family events would be like Gordon Brown (who in my mind has defo never done Easter egg hunts and the like, hence why he's always so sad, like a big saggy dog who didn't get any of the Sunday roast).

For your reading pleasure, here are the things he has yet to come to;

1) EASTER SUNDAY

This year, the Lad is coming to the afternoon part of this, where we shall be having a jolly civilised tea at the English Grandparents' house. I might have a sore tummy by that point but I will probably appear quite sane. There will be practically no sign of that morning's carnage. What happens on Eater Sunday mornings is this. Me and BTB (Brat Teenage Brother) grab whatever excuse for a pair of pjs we can, a pair of our dad's shoes each (for some reason he is the only person whose shoes are ever available) and shuffle out into the back room. We're not allowed to face the window, because then we'd inevitably spot  some of the eggs and that would be cheating, although BTB always tries (sneaky git). Then Mum and Dad open the door and we shove each other out of the way and the hunt begins. Dad by this point will have hidden a variety of eggs all over the place, and every year he gets sneakier. One year, he tricked us by just putting all the eggs in a black binliner on the decking and we assumed it was just a bag of rubbish, so were looking for a good hour before we found the chocolatey goodness. It used to be that I would get most of the eggs, I am the older child after all and BTB used to be about half my size, so I could reach the high hiding places that he couldn't. Now unfortunately he hulks over me by a good foot and is ridiculously strong. He is not above picking me up and putting me outside a room if I annoy him (this has happened before) so now I have to be extra sneaky at the Easter egg hunt. When we've found them all, we divvy them up (there's always a fight over the caramel and crunchy ones and no one ever wants the kit kat and yorkie eggs) then BTB hides all his in the freezer (he likes his so hard you might break your teeth on them), and I go up to my room and create a sort of Easter egg shrine. Inevitably, chocolate is chosen over breakfast. The festivities sometimes continue with a string of sneaky thefts and retaliations (i.e. BTB becomes convinced that I have stolen one of his eggs from the freezer, so he sneaks in and takes off the top egg from my pyramid, I find out and go and take his last crème egg and eventually it decends into all out chocolate war. Meanwhile the parents sit in utter glee that their crime hasn't been discovered, eating the original egg with relish). And the house exists in a hum of sugar high all day.

2) CHRISTMAS EVE AND MORNING

Possibly my family at its most excessive. On Christmas Eve I spend hours cooking the veggie tarts for the next day and prepping the carrots etc in between watching It's a wonderful life which it invariably isn't by that point because I'll be in a foul mood because mum will have been interfering in my cooking technique, BTB will be sulking because he wants to be upstairs on his playstation, the cat will have shat on the carpet as a crimble treat and the parents will be seriously considering throwing our pressies into the bin (a common catchphrase in our house at the festive time of year is 'I can hear another pressie falling off Santa's sleigh!') But it's still a very nice atmosphere. Next, we get mildly pissed (the parents on white wine, BTB on cider and me on amaretto) and hang up the stockings, pop the mince pie on a plate and the sherry in a glass by the fire, put a carrot in the garden for the reindeer and if anyone so much as suggests santa isn't real, they get a pillow thrown at their head. Then we all go to bed at about 2am and me and the brother try to listen to see exactly how heavy dad's tread is when he goes downstairs, as if that would tell us how many gifts he's carrying. Eventually we force ourselves to try and get some sleep. Invariably, I wake up at 7am and have to be the one the attempt to rouse BTB (I say attempt because he sleeps like a large log) then we both go join the parents in their room. They've usually been up since 5 and are on their 3rd cup of tea so complain about how long us kids took. Dad says something about how he heard a bit of noise in the night and how he hopes those naughty reindeer haven't trashed the garden  again like last year. BTB rolls his eyes while Mum and I giggle excitedly. We all go down stairs in our dressing gowns (me-mad red patterned terrytoweling monstrosity that I suspect makes me look like my gran's carpet on a bad day, Dad-a very soft black one that usually has a bit of breakfast on it, Mum-a very elegant puce satin thing, very Bette Davis in All about Eve, BTB-a ratty old bit of cloth with no tie, meaning he just sort of clutches it around him like a dirty old man). We open the door to the living room and BTB and I yell 'SANTA'S BEEN!' then go sit next to our pressies while Dad makes the next batch of tea. Niall opens one of his first (being the youngest) then me, then back to him etc. Once our gift lust is sated, the parents open their presents from us (badly wrapped but painstakingly chosen from the lists they gave us) and there's generally a slight edge of competition there about who bought the best ones. Then they open their gifts to each other; VERY expensive, usually brought at Selfridges, Mum cries because Dad's so thoughtful and gets her stuff like new wedding rings, Dad gets very excited over fishing/scuba diving gear that none of the rest of us understand. We grab binliners and shove all of the rubbish into them and then descend on the breakfast table like ravenous beasts, made delirious by all the generosity.

3) FAMILY WEDDINGS

The Lad is actually coming to one of these next year (if my family hasn't scared him off by then). Here's the list of what he should expect, since it is the Irish side.

  • Tears, and lots of them.
  • People I don't know the names of telling me how much like my Dad I look
  • More food than you could shake a stick at (normally mainly meat, but thank god the couple are veggies so there will be something I can eat!)
  • Alcohol. So much alcohol.
  • Irish dancing (Shoe the Donkey is a particular family fave) which will end with someone spraining their ankle but being slightly too pissed to realise till the next day. This will probably be me. 
  • More booze.
  • My Uncle Mike doing something Hilarious. At one wedding there was a Mexican band, so he gave out sombreros and spicy Pringles. BTB still has his somewhere. 
  • My younger cousins wanting to dance with me a lot.
  • Hiding from younger cousins at the bar behind a glass of spiked lucozade.
  • People telling us it will be us next, us hiding at the bar behind two glasses of spiked lucozade.
  • Mum and I dancing around our handbags.
  • Dad and Mum having a teenage smooch on the dancefloor, me going 'Awwww', BTB making vomit noises.
  • Filthy jokes.
  • The older generations talking about who they know who have died recently.
  • More Booze.
  • A very big hangover the next day.
My other side of the family haven't had any weddings that recently, but it's normally my 2nd and 3rd cousins in Kent. If we go to one there, he should expect:

  • Flowery dresses and burton suits.
  • A strong theme of pastel colours
  • Meat heavy 3 course meals, or a buffet of various quiches and chicken nuggets
  • Agadoo and the Music Man played by a DJ in a Hawaiian shirt on repeat. At some point in the evening there will also be that delightful 90s hit Who Let The Dogs Out. 
  • Gin and Tonics.
  • Staying at The Walpole Bay hotel (Pure awesome living museum hotel, very underpriced, Tracey Emin goes there a lot)
  • My parents having a smoochy dance to a Dirty Dancing/Titanic song.
  • Uncle Eddie getting his Kit off to 'You sexy thing'
  • People I'm quite sure I've never met telling me how much I look like my Dad.
  • Not knowing the bride and groom's names (I have SO many cousins and I'm outrageously bad at staying in touch, but they all seem to know mine!).
  • A swollen belly from too many cheese sarnies the next day.
Reader, I would carry on, but I can't reveal all my family traditions, as then the boyfriend would defo run for the hills screaming. 
So for now, tarrah!
Ash
x