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

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

Oh what a difference a year makes...

Reader, I am now officially moved out of Bag End. Which is a sad thing because I loved living with Curly One and having independence and a place I could invite lots of friends to without having to ask permission. But I am also moving back in with my family, who I adore, and frankly, I couldn't have afforded to live away for even a week longer so it's come at a perfect time.

Today, surrounded by boxes and piles of clothes going to charity shops, ebay and dry cleaners, I have been reflecting about the year at Bag End and all the things that have changed since I first moved in there. The big one is money-I went in with two grand in savings and I've left with £12.50 left at the end of my overdraft. We were paying far too much for Bag End, which was consistently on the brink of collapse, with doors breaking, a latch that kept slipping and locking us out, no insulation and old windows surrounded by rotting wood, but for us it was priceless. Much as I'm going to miss it though, I am very much looking forward to mending my coffers and getting back in my bank manager's good books. I've never been particularly good at not having money, it stresses me out more than most things to be unsure how I'm going to pay bills, and the constant praying I'll have been paid for one of my projects before another bill leaves my account. Which also partially prompted wanting to start as an acting coach, along with my camera based work with the brilliant young people at the Almeida Theatre, which shocked me with how much I enjoyed it. 

When I moved in, I was also a stone lighter than I am now, having lost a bit of weight due to grieving after a big break up. A year of eating more cheese than I ever have in my life has amended that-I am now the fattest I have ever been. But I don't really care-now I'm back home (where cheese is not seen as something to be eaten with every meal like we did in Bag End, and where my healthy parents have a gym in the basement) I know that the weight will fall off me fairly naturally anyway, but more than that, I am far more at peace with myself than I ever was when I moved in. I accept my body for what it is, something that I need to look after, to listen to and to let rest when it needs to. 

Speaking of heart break, I was very muted when I moved in. I cried often, I was terrified of where my life was going (how do you adjust when the future you had mapped out vanishes overnight?) I was single, the thought of dating made me seize up and I was pretty sure I would never fall in love again. Over the year I went on dates, discovered what I did and didn't like, not only in the men I dated, but in myself. I discovered that I was more able to ask people out than I thought, I was even asked out by others a few times. I learnt how to say no, that if you can't talk to someone then there's no point, that I'm not the kind of girl who can do casual. I learnt to love being single again, to love the excitement of a night out, to feel complete by myself. And just as I'd learnt to love spending time by myself, and that I didn't need a romantic partner, I went to an audition and got completely knocked off my feet by someone. So now I'm on a new adventure, being in a new relationship whilst living with my family, with someone who is just as creative, childish and romantic as I am. I am so smitten and excited about our adventures, I feel a bit like a teenager again!

Someone said to me recently that I was more like myself again. But I disagree. What Bag End has taught me is that I didn't need to look back to someone I used to be, I needed to find a new me-someone who took on all the lessons of the past but was able to accept that the future is a changeable form which probably won't ever turn out as you expect it to, but to enjoy all the twists and turns. I have my old sparkle back, yes. But I'm also stronger, more resilient and more willing to try new things.

When I moved into Bag End, Curly One and I toasted each other with tiny bottles of prosecco and talked about the year ahead of us. I said I wanted to do things that scared me, and I'm really proud to say I have. I've started to learn how to drive, I've begun vlogging, I gave up smoking (for the second, and hopefully final time), I've let myself become poor in order to do things important to me (like performing at Edinburgh), I've dated, I've eaten new things (Salmon, beef, dim sum and soft shell crab to name but a few!). Bag End, more than anything, gave me the space to grow. And I was lucky enough to do it with Curly One, who I have laughed with, cried with, danced with, quoted Eddie Izzard with and eaten more cheese with than I have ever consumed in my life. 

So today, while I'm unpacking the rest of my boxes and drinking vast amounts of honey and lemon (I have a rotten cold), I will be thinking fondly of all the brilliant, unexpected and life changing things that happened to me during a year in a cold little hobbit hole in North London. 

Ash

x

Why do weddings make us cry?

So, as you guys know, The Bride recently did something rather incredible-she got hitched! And it was the wedding of a lifetime! A gorgeous manor that looked like something straight out of a period drama, so much good food that I felt like I'd eaten more than I'd had in weeks, she looked like a princess, he glowed with pride when he caught her eye, we all danced to a live band and I taught a bunch of people to headbang. It was lovely. And there were lots and lots of tears.

I cried watching her get into her dress, I cried when she couldn't help but kiss her soon-to-be husband as soon as she got down the aisle, I cried as they exchanged their vows and I cried during the speeches. I welled up giving her the book me and her other oldest friend had compiled for her, I shed a tear when we chased her bridal car down the road. Everyone cried at the groom's speech, and then again when we did the bridesmaids' speech. I couldn't express how happy I was without welling up.

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

Well I've noticed the crying thing has only come about as I've got old enough for my friends to start getting married off. Now don't get me wrong, these aren't sad tears-nope, anything but! They're happy tears, proud tears, overwhelmed tears. They're tears which are hopeful for the couple but also hopeful for yourself.



The thing is, unless you're not a believer in marriage, the wedding day is like this really awesome chance to celebrate love. And what's so bad about that? You get to shout from the rooftops how important that person is to you. It's like saying to that person-'You are it. You're my best friend, my family and the person I want to share my bed with forever and a day.' And that's a huge deal. Marriage isn't something to be entered into lightly, you do it because you know that the person you're meeting at the end of the aisle is someone you don't only want in your life forever, but that you need. Which is why divorce is such a terribly sad thing.

Watching friends you've watched grow up get married is incredible. You see it all in your head-what they looked like when you were kids, arguing about who would get your period first, that time you designed your dream dresses (and laughing to yourself as you compare her incredibly stylish and elegant ivory gown with her old vision of a turquoise monstrosity with sequins and puffy sleeves, topped with a tiara...eight year old's visions of wedding dresses are fairly Big Fat Gypsy Wedding-esque), confiding in each other about your first kisses and talking about what you wanted to be when you grew up. You remember teenage angst, and worries over spots, greasy hair and the boys that didn't like you back, and you then you watch as it all melts away and your friend, that same one who used to wear owl-like glasses and play with furbies, turn into royalty. And it's not the dress that does it, it's not the big venue, the presents or throwing the bouquet. It's love. I've never seen The Bride look so beautiful as she did when she looked at her new husband, or glow quite so much as she did with pride when he gave his speech.

My tears were out of pure happiness-because the little girl I played Tomb Raider and hopscotch with was a woman. And that day, I saw her whole future in front of her-the ups, the downs, the laughter, the tears, the late nights and the early mornings. And I knew all of it would be ok, because she'd be doing it all with a partner in crime who knew her better than anyone, loved her more than anyone and wanted her happiness more than anyone. It's a weird sensation when you realise that you're not your oldest friend's port of call any more, but when you're handing over to someone who loves them that much, it's also one of the best feelings in the world.

So, to The Bride and her lovely new husband- with all my heart I wish you that long, wonderful future.(I promise next time I see you both I won't cry. Well, probably.)
Ash
x

Not every first kiss is a First Kiss...

So Reader, I was recently told that my high expectations for a first kiss were pretty terrifying. This is fair. I expect great things from a first kiss, and if they're not great, I tend to lose interest fast. But it was while mulling this over that I realised something-not every kiss is a First Kiss.



Ok, so hear me out. When you kiss someone for the first time, sometimes it's one of those kisses that just doesn't make something click inside you. And you realise that you probably won't be kissing them again after today. Those kisses cannot be classed as First Kisses, since they are also (at least in part) last kisses. They don't mark the start of something that might carry over into another day, week, month or year. It's not a kiss that you'll remember 10 years down the line, when you're kissing them on your way to work or when they bring you a cup of tea done just right. It's a first kiss. Not a First Kiss.

So what constitutes a First Kiss? Because a first kiss lowercase is not the same as a First Kiss uppercase.

A First Kiss is the beginning of something new. It's that moment where you are stepping off a cliff because you're 65% sure there's a bouncy castle at the bottom of the fall. It can only really be judged in hindsight-if you can't remember your First Kiss then why did you have a second? A First Kiss does not have to be perfect (contrary to my high expectations), it just has to make you want to kiss the person again and again. A First Kiss shouldn't be really tricky, it should be something that you want to tell passers by about 'Oh, excuse me-I just had this INCREDIBLE kiss' and then they should applaud. That should be a thing. When I am Emperor of the Universe I shall make it so.

A First Kiss doesn't have to be the beginning of a long term relationship-but it can be the start of something else, the First Kiss of an adventure abroad, or of a fling you'll remember for the rest of your life.

Your First Kiss should be on the DVD constantly playing in your brain of your top ten relationship best bits. Maybe your top 20 if you've had a particularly interesting life. Because some kisses are meant to be held on to and replayed over and over.

A First Kiss should be so good that a brilliant song plays in your head

although possibly not THIS song

But more importantly, a First Kiss should be perfect even if it's not. Because it's with the right person, who enjoyed it just as much (and hopefully also wants to kiss you lots more).

I hope you have some truly brilliant First Kisses Reader!
Ash
x
p.s. Don't forget to check out my vlogs! I release a new one every Tuesday and Friday!

The Richard Curtis Effect...

Reader, living in London is a pretty wonderful thing sometimes. But it sometimes has a rather odd effect on me. I'll be walking across London Bridge with a friend, and suddenly it's as if we've entered a strange dimension, where we're endearingly bumbling English folk. Suddenly we start making grand statements and doing really wanky things, like holding hands and running across in the rain hollering and whooping, or yelling across the Thames. What a bunch of knobatrons.



I call this The Richard Curtis Effect. It's when the feeling of being in London overwhelms you to the point where it feels like your life has become a scene in Bridget Jones or Four Weddings and A Funeral and you start imagining that everyone pauses for comedic effects and certain moments go by in slow motion.

Now, obviously, this has its good points-somehow, cringey moments are less awful when you're imagining what Hugh Grant or Domnhall Gleeson would do during them (and as someone who has truly embarrassing moments day to day, this is cheering). I have learnt to laugh at myself when I do something ridiculous, and just think of it as a story to tell my friends when they need a giggle. Also, how cross can you get with yourself when you think that Richard Curtis is directing your story and thus this is all just a prelude to you being about to fall in love with the guy who reached for that book at the same time as you in the tiny second hand shop?



Because that's the thing about The Richard Curtis Effect-you think that there's always going to be a happy ending, no matter how dire things get. Incarcerated for a drugs offence you didn't commit? The dishy lawyer you're in love with is about to break you out and start your career as an internationally acclaimed journo. Wife dead, leaving you with tiny, angry blond stepson? You're going to get off with Claudia Schiffer and form a bond deeper than most biological father/sons with the sprog. Born ginger? You get to TIME TRAVEL and spend your life with the woman of your dreams. Always late for weddings and leaving a trail of mental ex girlfriends behind you?...Oh...ok, this one is a bit awkward, you're in love with this total dickhead American lady who can't tell when it's raining. (I like to imagine when Four Weddings ends, Hugh sorts his shit out and gets with his fantastically sarcastic best friend who has forever loved him from afar). Your career always goes stellar, your house is always either a cosy one bed above the globe with french windows, a rambling country estate or a snug little cottage covered in roses. You may have some heartbreak, but that makes the story SO much better. As does the fact that you're a little bit fat and you sometimes wear some really, really dire outfits.



When I walk around Southbank, you know what I hear? Well, it depends on my mood actually. If I'm happy, it's 'AIN'T NO MOUNTAIN HIGH ENOUGH etc etc', if I'm sad it's always 'Sorry seems to be the hardest word' and there is inevitably a lot of standing looking across the water, clutching a coat to myself. I know. I am RIDICULOUS. I am not Bridget Jones by any stretch of the imagination (apart from the clumsy side, the love of all cheese, the lack of a tidy bedroom...erm....shut up) but when The Richard Curtis Effect looms, I just go with it, and so does my internal soundtrack.



This has also affected my taste in men. You know who I get crushes on? Boys with posh voices. Floppy hair also leaves me wooed. Men who are polite and gentlemanly, but then also hysterically funny and you could imagine them doing really mad but sweet things for someone they liked (Domnhall travelled through time guys. I'm just saying). I am a SUCKER for romance. I try to deny it, but I am. It's atrocious. I blame things like Love, Actually and Four Weddings ENTIRELY. I fear that without their influence, I would be a far more cynical, realistic woman.



Saying that though-who wants to be cynical? I am a massive optimist, and if that means seeing through the rose tinted glasses of British rom-coms with people with large teeth and larger hats, so be it! I may say things that come out ridiculously wanky sometimes, but I always say them with genuine feeling, I know you can use prescription goggles instead of glasses whilst at the cinema if you lose your specs and I know to never, ever, EVER go back to a man who cheats on you with a lithe American model. Life lessons people.

So go out in London today Reader (if you in fact live there-if you don't...erm...I don't know...watch Four Weddings or something) and enjoy looking through the rom-com goggles!
Ash
x
P.s. Richard Curtis is also responsible for the Mr.Bean movie. Yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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



2) Unbreak my heart

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




3) Everybody hurts

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



4) Sweet like chocolate boy

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



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

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



6) I see the want to in your eyes

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




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

Cheerio Reader!
Ash
x

Ten reasons it's great to be single...

Reader, as you may have gathered from some of my previous entries, I am single. Which can be a pain in the arse, given that most of my friends are getting married and having babies and I spend most of my life wondering how much ice cream I can eat before I have to exercise, but it also has a variety of plus points (when I can avoid married friends making sympathetic clucking noises at me). Here are ten of my favourites!

Ten reasons being single is fabulous

1. The bed situation

Shh, you filthy minded lot! I'm talking about the fact that because no one will be IN your bed you can keep it in exactly the state you prefer. In my case (and because my bed is also my office) that means piled high with books, notepads, clothes and scripts (which I end up contorting my body round in order to find space to sleep). When I'm seeing someone I end up grudgingly making my bed every day. When I'm single I can be a messy bint.

    2. Not having to hide the fact that you're actually not that interested in intellectual stuff

The moment when you realise that you don't have to pretend to like searingly smart documentaries about the world ending due to humans being dickheads is really, really satisfying. You can just switch over to yet ANOTHER episode of Friends. Or Charmed. Or even Footballer's Wives. AND NO ONE NEED EVER KNOW (Tanya's flicky eyes were the best thing on the box back in the day...). Also, newspapers. You don't have to read them. Apart from The Metro (which doesn't really count) and The Evening Standard (but only to flick to the crossword at the back). And you can lie about it and there will be no one to jump in with 'What are you talking about, you NEVER read the newspapers!'

    3. Not having to plan your schedule around someone else's

You know what I bloody love about being single? That I don't have to diary plan with anyone. I am so busy. ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME. When you're in a relationship, you also have to plan in couple time. As a singleton, I work very hard to plan in ice cream and watching Netflix time (I somehow always manage to squeeze it in somewhere...)

    4. Clothes that few men understand

There are items of clothes in my wardrobe that only women (and a VERY select few high fashion obsessed men) understand. These items are not items that make me look like Jessica Rabbit, they've got interesting cuts and kitch prints and in general I only wear them when I'm single. Because the response I get when I wear them is that women go 'ooohhh that's a fabulous look' and men go 'erm...you look weird'. (Often I do look weird, so this is fine but when I am single I am much happier to experiment with my wardrobe, as I am less likely to show anyone up-my patterned tights have a FIELD DAY)

      5. Inappropriate crushes

When I'm in a relationship with someone I love, I don't get crushes on other people generally-all of my attention and affection is just aimed at that one special person. But when I'm single, there is a WHOLE LOT of inappropriate going on. I had a crush on an 18 year old the other day. Eighteen. As in, almost a decade younger than me and barely legal. AND HE WAS FLIRTING WITH ME. I think. I was mostly trying to stop blushing and telling myself to shape up so I could be wrong. I get crushes on people in relationships, I get crushes on friends. I don't let myself fall for them, sometimes the crushes only last a day and nothing ever comes of them, it's just that for that brief period of time I go all woogly over them (shut up, I can't think of a real word). Being single means life is full of potential. Delicious, entirely inappropriate potential!

   6. Flirting

Ok, so this leads on from the last point. But when you're single you can flirt. Not only that, you can flirt WITH INTENT. Which is ever so much fun.

   7. Kissing takes on more importance

Ok Reader, here's a question-why do people stop kissing in relationships? Ok, so I know that it's a precursor to sex and when you're in a relationship, you're pretty much guaranteed action, but I LOVE kissing! Kissing is the best! And when you're single, kissing is so thrilling. You spend dates thinking feverishly that tonight might lead to that first, wonderful kiss. You have conversations with the person you're crushing on, not actually listening to what they're saying because you're dreaming that they'll grab you and kiss you in the style of Rhett Butler. You carry mints around with you just in case you bump into Nicholas Hoult and he decides to pucker up. Kissing is MAGICAL. I put a lot of meaning on first kisses-if I don't feel a spark then I tend to lose interest fairly quickly-which is probably unfair, but I think kissing is super important. Don't you? Answers on the back of a postcard people...

   8.   Shoe choices

I love high heels. I have far too many of them. But I love them. When I'm in a relationship, I tend to live in flats. This is for a number of reasons. 1) Men get weird if you're taller or as tall as them 2) They get pissy when you're walking slow because it's hard to walk in what are essentially stilts 3) They get embarrassed when you go barefoot at the end of the night. So I end up just giving in and wearing flats. When I'm single, I am super tall. In fact, generally people are shocked when they realise quite how short I really am (it's like my secret identity! Short arse girl!) 

   9. Male friends

I love my boy mates. They make me laugh like a drain, we take the piss out of each other something silly and they give the best hugs. But boyfriends get funny about how close I am with them. Ironically, most of my boy mates are so like brothers to me that I would never go there, but partners seem to think they have something to be jealous of. To be fair, even the most laid back partner might get annoyed to see his girlfriend playfighting with a hunky man she gets on with really well. I'm not saying I ditch my male friends when I have a partner, but it definitely makes it easier being single. (Also, then you can also do number 6 without feeling too guilty)

   10. Being a career girl

I love my career. I love being an actress, a writer and a vlogger. I love it. And when I'm single, I can get properly lost in it. I can spend my days doing the admin stuff that pays the bills and the nights learning lines and recording vlogs. I can spend weeks rehearsing, then getting pissed with cast members in the pub below the theatre. I can become my character with no risk of it affecting my relationship. It's like, so method dahlink. Poncy though this is, it is kind of true-being in a relationship is distracting. If they're not in the industry then they don't understand how you can dedicate so much of your life to something that doesn't pay, if they are then there's always underlying jealousy or resentment (or just the fact that both of you are flighty creative types who might have to leave at a minutes notice). 

Ok, so let's be honest for a second Reader, if I fell in love-like, actual, proper, head over heels love? That would win out over all of these things, because love is very important and wonderful. But at the moment I am not in love, and I am single and I am still happy. And you can be too. Go on, think of a few reasons why being a singleton works for you! 

Tarrah Reader!

Ash

x

Wedding survival guide for singles...

Reader, it seems like everyone is either getting married or breaking up at the moment. Lovely though the former is, my purse is paying the ultimate price and as a single woman, there's something rather gutting about your loved up friends asking if you're bringing a plus one and having to reply...'nope...just me...' Now, I actually rather like being single. I like the excitement of dating, I find not being in a relationship means I have more time to focus on my career and I have a lot of travelling planned over the next year or so which wouldn't go particularly well with commitment. But there's something about being in your late twenties which means you get a slight pitying face when you go to a wedding alone. I only know this, because I went to weddings with my ex, and it was lovely and romantic and full of hope. When you're single, it's still lovely (because obviously you're overwhelmingly delighted for your loved up friends), but it also gets an extra layer added to it. Something I like to call 'The Single Girl Veil'. So I've made a little survival guide for all you single guys and gals out there, so you don't hulk out this summer at the 10th wedding you attend...

The Ash Acting Up Wedding Survival Guide for singles...

• Bring a cereal bar. The photos take forever and you'll be fainting by the time the food (in inevitably tiny portions) appears.

This is actually good advice for everyone, but particularly the singles. You don't want to be that person obsessively talking about food, or chasing down the (ridiculously fast) canapé waiters. You'll miss all the good conversations! People in couples usually tag team and have one person looking out for food at any given time. You have to look out for yourself, kid. Survival of the fittest! Or, least famished...

• Don't get too drunk

This one is for a number of VERY IMPORTANT REASONS. 1) It's someone else's day. Don't be a selfish twat. 2) People in couples have a partner to help them back to the hotel. You do not. 3) People might assume you're getting drunk because you're sad that you're single. I know, fuck em, but they do not understand that wine is simply delicious and there was NOT ENOUGH FOOD. 4) You might accidentally get off with someone you hadn't intended to. Which reminds me...

• Don't kill the bride when she's set you up with the only other single there, who makes children cry and dogs whine when they walk past

If you're single, I can promise you that it's highly likely you'll already have been auctioned off to the highest bidder without your knowledge. And then you'll get to the wedding and there will be the most awkward introduction in the history of awkward introductions. And inevitably, in some kind of strange Bridezilla/Groomzilla meltdown, they will have remembered ONE THING that you are attracted to and attributed it to someone you would have to have consumed A LOT of booze to spend an hour with, let alone the whole night. 'We remembered you liked creative guys! Jeremy here plays the kazoo!' Even sadder than this is when you first see the guy that they've set you up with and he's gorgeous, poised and well dressed, then you talk to him and he has the personality of a mouldy pear. Remember, it's their big day, deal with the situation elegantly (and don't then get pissed and shag him anyway. I have a friend who did this and still gets hopeful calls from the bloke. Silly girl)

• Don't be bitter

This one is very important. Remember, this day will probably only come once in your friends' lives. You may have been to 4 weddings this month, but they only get one day which is all about their love. Allow yourself to enjoy the romance of it, feel hope that one day you'll meet someone who will want to be legally and spiritually bonded to you and act like a kind and loving fairy godmother/father who has come to bestow good will and charm. Sending out death rays when anyone mentions love doesn't go very well with the day. And it might give you indigestion. 

• Don't let other people shame you about how much you've spent on the gift

As a single person, you have half the income they do. You've had to spend more on a hotel room, more on the trip up and you pay more tax than smug marrieds. So what if you hand made the gift? BUGGER THEM. It's sentimental. Or something.

• Wear good pants

There is a small chance someone might see them. Sex happens at weddings. A lot. My friend was conceived at one (don't you love mums who don't know when to stop talking?). On that note, also bring condoms. There's never any shops near by.

• Don't be ashamed to crack out some classic moves

Look, let's be honest. How likely is it that you're going to meet the person of your dreams at this thing? Not very, I'd say. How likely is it that getting crazy on the dancefloor to Cotton Eye Joe will make you fabulously happy? SUPER LIKELY. Be the first person on that floor. Get everyone jumping, from the 6 year old flower girl to the groom's 82 year old great uncle. Joy is infectious! Who cares if you look like a complete weirdo? You'll spend the night laughing! 

• Don't be the crying girl/boy at the party

This may be harsh, but I have NO TIME for people who get pissed and cry at other people's events. It's not cool. If you're sad, excuse yourself and go home for a little weep. If you are likely to cry after 2 glasses of malibu and lemonade, then don't drink. This kind of relates to the point about getting too drunk and being bitter, but it's essential. Cry with happiness. Cry because the bride looks beautiful, or the groom said something heartbreakingly lovely in his speech, or at the moment when they mention a special person who couldn't be there. That's fine. But don't cry for yourself at a wedding. Or a birthday. Or a christening. Or any event that celebrates someone else really.

• Bring business cards

I know this sounds a bit cagey for a wedding, but what if you meet a supremely awesome business contact? Or make friends with someone whilst dancing to YMCA? Or meet the person of your dreams? Business cards not only mean networking is easier, but if your phone dies you still have a way to keep in touch after the party!

• Don't wear a big hat

You will misplace it. And no one will be able to see if they're sitting behind you.

Well gang, however many weddings you go to this summer, I hope you have a fantabulous time!

Ash

x

p.s. Remember to go watch my vlogs and subscribe to my YouTube channel! I now bring out new videos every Tuesday and Friday!  https://www.youtube.com/user/magenta/videos

Body business...

The thing is Reader, I am feeling quite large at the moment. And there is a reason for that. The reason is that I AM quite large at the moment. I didn't realise it till I didn't fit into a size 10 earlier today because my boobs almost broke the zip. Thing is, I've been dating this guy who loves food. I already love food, so being with him is like a dream-a ticket to feast, because he'll always eat more than me. The thing is, he is built of pure muscle and does lots of exercise and I am...well...I'm not really built, I'm more sort of casually moulded into a variety of curves.

The issue I have with this is that I do not like my body over a certain weight and that makes me sad. I don't want to not like my body. My body does really lovely things for me, like help me act, do yoga, dance and hopefully one day give birth to a small clan of children. My body is a nice thing. And I haven't always treated my body very nicely in the past; I smoked for four years, then another year. When I drink, I drink heavily. I don't exercise enough, or drink enough water. My poor body doesn't like wheat or dairy and I choose to ignore that fact and eat pizza and cheesy pasta on a regular basis. But my body still troops on. It has lived through asthma attacks, chest infections, ski collisions, being burnt by hot oil on a badly supervised Girl Guide's camping trip and even a scary two weeks where a doctor told me to deal with the fact that I might not be able to have children. Reader, I swore at my body a lot that week. I cried everywhere- bus stops, supermarket toilets, cafes, an ultrasound wing of a hospital and on the train to an audition (the audition didn't go terribly well). I didn't really tell anyone because it seemed like A Very Big Thing. And my heart didn't feel ready to face the reality of discussing A Very Big Thing. I lay in bed next to my partner every night and stared at the ceiling, cursing my body and making deals with greater powers. If my body could have children I'd treat it nicer. I'd go to the dentist more and do volunteer work. I'd buy more copies of the big issue and be nicer to my little brother. And after two weeks of worrying, I was told that there was no sign of cancer, twisted Fallopian tubes or any of the things that had been rattling round my brain since my first appointment. They still don't really know what's wrong with me, but at least I know I have a chance of getting pregnant. I feel terrible for those couple of weeks where I directed such vittrol and spite at my poor womb.

And the thing is, when something like that happens, when you think that your body has failed you in such a drastic way, you suddenly realise how bloody ridiculous getting cross with a few extra pounds is.

Which is why I don't want to be sad that I'm a little heavier than usual. In my lifetime, some amazing people have passed, some of them upsettingly young. Time spent looking in the mirror begrudging your shape is time utterly wasted.

Also, thinking you can't have kids makes you realise how much you want them (or for some people, how little they do-amazing clarity comes from the results of a medical test at times) and how you'd raise them. I never want my child to hear me say 'I'm too fat' or give the impression that being a different shape to the shapes in the magazines is an issue. I don't want him or her to see me frowning in the mirror as I clutch at my rounded hips and generous, Irish thighs, wishing I looked like a different woman entirely. I never want my child to think 'Mummy thinks she's ugly and I look like Mummy-so I must be ugly too'. My body has a history-the hips come from farmer's wives in Ireland carrying kids and baby animals, my strong thighs come from horse riders who travelled across the lands and my soft belly comes from a legacy of women who make incredible mothers, professionals and lovers. Who am I to scorn all that?

So although, yes, I will be eating a little less over the next few weeks and moving quite a bit more, I will not be doing it because I hate my body. I will be doing it because it's a lovely body. And it deserves some tlc.

Reader, give your body a hug today. And remember not to be too mean to it.

Ash
x

The three stages of breaking up...

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

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

FIRST STAGE

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

SECOND STAGE

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

THIRD STAGE

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

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

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

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

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

Ash
x

An interview with 17 year old me...

Reader, anyone who knows me knows that I constantly refer back to my past selves as if they were old friends or family members who would have a fully formed opinion on how I live my life. I get the mick taken quite a bit for starting sentences with 'god, 12 year old me would love this' or '15 year old me would be looking at me in horror right now'. And last night I got talking with my housemate about how different I was as a teenager. Which made me wonder-what would my 17 year old self think of mid twenties me? Only one way to find out....THE POWER OF TIME TRAVEL (shut up and suspend your disbelief)

Oh...hi. Where am I?

Hi there 17 year old me! You're in 2013, with mid twenties you!

Oh. 

Surprise!

Hang on....are we in LONDON?

Yeah...?

What happened to New York? We were supposed to be getting married to a rock star in a beautiful yet edgy ceremony about now!

Well, New York is still somewhere we want to live, but we ended up making lots of contacts in London and staying put for the time being. Also, your family has grown and you have a godson now and some really cute little cousins you want to see grow up. You did go on a couple of dates with a rock star if that helps?

Someone makes me a godmother? Wow. That's pretty shibby! Who was it, Clefairy? Ooohh I date a rockstar? That must have been awesome!

Ok, first off, don't use the word shibby. No matter how hard you try, it never quite catches on

But..

NO BUTS. It's awful. You do not sound kitch and cute, you sound ridiculous. And no, Clefairy doesn't have a baby yet (was it the many many nephews and nieces that made you think she'd have a family so young? Well she has even more now-no need to add more kids into the equation just yet!), your youngest uncle and aunt had the most gorgeous, funny little boy and you're his Godmother-you make him awful craft gifts and give him lots of cuddles. And dating a rock star was fun for about one date, then it turned out rockstars can be quite shy and his best friend scared you off (we think she fancied him too). You also never quite shake the suspicion that they thought you were a groupie.

Was it someone from Panic! At the disco?

No. Far less famous. No one knows who the band is really, even back then.

Oh. Bum. Hey, where's all my hair? WHERE IS ALL MY HAIR? 

Oh yes, about that. The thing is, having hair down to your bum is lovely when you're 17 but when we get a bit older (and years of dyeing has made it slightly less luxurant and bouncy) we decide to keep it just below boob level. Don't worry, we're never going back to the Harry Potter haircut.

The whole reason I was single age 13-15.

Erm...Yeah, you stay single for quite a while actually, so I don't think we can put it all down to the bad hair

WHAT? I don't end up meeting a gorgeous guy on my first day at uni?

Oh, well, you do, but actually you wind up just seeing him as a friend after cleaning up his sick and stuff. Living with boys who are mates sort of makes you not fancy them. Also, after years in an all girl's school, you sort of have magical boy-repelling powers. You keep getting seen as 'the little sister' of the group and to be honest, you don't pick up on any of the hints boys give you anyway. You meet someone in your last year though and end up going out with them for 4 and a half years!

Oh phew. So I'm in a relationship and on my way to marriage and kids then?

Er, not exactly. In fact, we're sort of single again.

I'M SINGLE IN MY MID TWENTIES?! OH MY GOD I'M BRIDGET JONES

Please shut up.

I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE! THIS IS SO FAR FROM SHIBBY! I SHOULD HAVE MARRIED MY ONE BOY MATE!

Oh yeah, about that, he turns out to be gay

What?! But we kissed!

He wore women's jeans!

But he had a huge crush on me!

Later in life we now think he just admired your skinny androgyny and lack of boobs. It's not even the only time it happens to you. You have a bit of a penchant for picking vaguely feminine boys out and for a while, a lot of them end up coming out of the closet.

Oh for god's sake. Am I at least performing at The Old Vic? Or The National?

Not exactly. You've done some tv and film work though! And played Estella in Great Expectations in lots of fabulous theatres! You're actually vaguely successful at the acting lark at the moment (although far from famous or rich, more that you have pretty regular work albeit low paid) And you have boobs now!

I HAVE BOOBS?!?

I know! They finally come in during your first year of uni! No more chicken fillets and rolled up socks in the bra for you young lady! But also no more running without a bra. Because that gets old fast. Along with getting boobs you get asked to model for a group called Suicide Girls but you turn it down because you're worried how it may affect your career as an actor.

Wow. I must be really skinny!

Well. You were then. Not so much now. Now we grudgingly accept that curvy is good and the fat on our tummy is to keep our baby making bits safe.

Eurgh.

Well we can't afford to live off M&S sushi forever!

Do I at least live in a really cool part of London? In my own apartment? With a pet parakeet?

Well, you live in Southgate with one of your best friends from Uni who is now a director. No parakeets. We have a no 'Ash being Dr. Doolittle' rule. It's pretty awesome!

Southgate's gross!

Actually it's quite trendy now. Lots of funky little coffee shops and charity shops.

Fair enough. And I suppose we can go swimming every day.

Not really, we can't afford swimming every day.

We can't afford £2.50 every day?!

Oh, yeah, there's been a recession. Swimming is £7.50 now.

£7.50?!!! That's the same price as an entire outfit from Punky Fish!

Oh dear sweet fool. That's nothing, busses are now £2.10 for a single if you don't have an oyster

What do shellfish have to do with public transport?

Never mind...

How are mum and dad? And the little bro?

All good! Dad now part owns the company and Mum runs her own business! When you're not acting you work for her on the side. They still both look impossibly young and go off on holidays to exotic places. Little bro is now taller than us by a foot and goes to uni in Wales.

Wait...mum and dad go on holiday? WITHOUT US? Isn't that child abuse?!

No, given that NEITHER YOU OR LITTLE BRO ARE CHILDREN ANYMORE. (We are sad about it though and keep hoping they'll win the lottery and whisk us off to Disney again)

Weird to think of him being at uni. He's only 12! And really weedy. 

Enjoy it while you can, he gets really strong and can pick you up now. And does if he's losing an argument. You get put outside the front door like the sabre tooth from the flintstones.

Does he ever admit to stealing my Tigger diary?

No! But we still suspect him. You actually get on way better now. He's calmed down a LOT and is very funny. It helps that you don't live with each other. You even miss him when he's away!

Ok, well I suppose that's ok. Right, I feel the tug of college and a night out at The Roxy. Do we still go clubbing every week?

God no! We're out so often networking, we far prefer a quiet bar or even better, our own sofa!

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo......(disappears into a vortex of time travel to leap into mini kilt and dance to Peaches and The Arctic Monkeys)

Hm. Not sure how delighted she was, but she's IMPOSSIBLE to please. Before I go Reader, a few friends of mine are trying to raise money for various projects, so please see below the blog and donate and share!
Tarrah!
Ash
x

A very talented theatre practitioner and actor friend of mine, Liz Williams is in the middle of a course to help bring theatre to the young. It's an amazing opportunity and Liz is extremely wonderful at everything she does, hardworking and fierce. If anyone deserves a helping hand, it's her! Donate or share her page here: http://www.gofundme.com/passionvspaycheck

The lovely James Card of Thorny Devil Productions is asking for contributions for their next short 'For My Next Trick'. Have worked with Thorny Devil in the past and they're a great team, who do fabulous work! They're also jolly nice people, so please give what you can, or just share if (like me) you're very very poor!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1791500593/for-my-next-trick

Friendzoning...

Ok Reader, so recently I've been noticing lots of guys complaining about getting friendzoned by girls. You see it all the time. 'Uh man, this girl TOTALLY friendzoned me' 'What a bitch' 'Yeah, I know, she clearly only goes for douchey blokes, nice guys always finish last'.

Ahem.

I'm sorry.

SHUT THE SHAG UP.

Friendzoning exists, sure. And it sucks when you like someone and it turns out they only see you as a friend, I mean, come now, girls go through it too, I've been through it myself. But stop acting like it's a) only something that happens to men by girls and b) because you were clearly meant to be together from the start and she KNEW that and then whammied you with a 'Sorry I just see you as friends' acme safe on the head.

When a girl meets a guy, her instant thought is not that it will lead to sex. The majority of times, if a meet up is arranged, she assumes it is just to meet up and chat in a friendly manner. Not to go on a date. Because it is not made clear. If I like a guy I am USELESS around them (despite being just about the flirtiest person you'll meet under most circumstances, when I meet someone I genuinely fancy, it's as if someone's replaced my brain cells with felt and sequins and I start talking utter crap and stammering and tripping over a lot. I can however, flirt brilliantly with people I don't actually see sexually. I know, I am a ridiculous human being.) but generally if they ask me out I assume it's just to hang out, not to date. Sometimes to my own detriment. Once, when I was a lot more naive and (lets face it) stoopid, I thought a guy was literally asking me to a sleepover and turned up at his door with pjs, a bag of dvds and popcorn and my best friend. Girls are not that aware sexually most of the time. And most of us have pretty crippling self doubt. We don't recognise that someone fancies us unless they kiss us, tell us so, or get one of our more enlightened friends to tell us so. After uni, I once said in a group of male friends 'I never really got asked out at uni' and apparently 90% of them had asked me out at some stage without me ever realising. Apparently I'd even been out on a date with a couple of them and had NO CLUE.

If you want to go on a date with someone, tell them it's a date. Just give us a heads up, ok? Then we can tell you if we're actually interested or not, and you won't ever get into the friendzone situation. Be warned though, you could lose out on a lot of really frigging awesome female friends that way.

Also, what in lawk's name is all this crap about 'nice guys finish last'? My last boyfriend was a classic 'nice guy'. Who was into comics and gaming and geek culture. HE HAD POKEMON POSTERS IN HIS ROOM. And guess what? I kissed him first. The utter wankers I've been interested in, I've never made a move on, because they are, as I have said, utter wankers and I'm not completely brain dead. Generally a girl won't look at a guy and go 'ah yes, he's someone who'll cheat on me and treat me like poo, I want a slice of that hot action'. Normally the guy seems perfectly nice initially and it's only later that the not so lovely bits come out. The difference is, the cocky guys seem to have the confidence to ask a girl out directly and actually show that they are sexually interested in them rather than hanging out around them and after a month of being mates suggesting that they go for coffee in a matey sort of way. They make their agenda clear. Which is why ladies know it's a date. And to be honest, the majority of men I know who say 'I don't get it, I'm a really nice guy' are not in fact, really nice guys. They just think they are because they don't make the first move, and let's be honest no one ever really thinks that they're a knobatron.

I've also noticed that the same guys who keep getting 'friendzoned' appear to want all of their female friends to have seen them as a romantic prospects. Er...sorry. What?! Why is that ok? I am pretty obvious when I fancy someone. I am, in fact, incredibly ridiculous and do stupid things like texting them texts about them by accident (this has happened so many times, I think I have a problem, thank christ for smart phones and existing conversation threads) and not realising that I'm talking to their girlfriend and making it painfully obvious that I fancy their partner (again, happens more often than I like to admit and leads to me feeling AWFUL because I haven't realised that they were taken and then hiding under my bed for a week or so). Sometimes, I meet men and I just think 'cor, aren't they great people? I want them to be in my life' in a very non sexual way and now I have lots of lovely male friends who (I hope) know that I don't see them romantically.

The thing is, it's also really crappy of a person (male or female) to go into a friendship with an ulterior motive. Can you imagine if you'd made this great friend that you thought was like a sibling and then one day it came out that they'd only got into a friendship with you because they wanted to jump your bones? Or suddenly stopped talking to you because you wouldn't date or sleep with them? How manipulative? I mean, I can be really shy sometimes (I know, you wouldn't know it, but I'm an actor, I hide it remarkably well), but if I am attracted to someone and he doesn't feel the same way back (or, adversely, can't feel the same way back because he's in a relationship) I go 'oh, ok' and it may feel a bit shitty for a while but I realise it's not their fault that they don't want to jump my bones and get on with congratulating myself on having made a nice friend and getting the hell over it.

I always hear guys saying 'But I always make the first move'. I'm sorry, but I call bullpoop. You know how many times I've been actually, properly asked out in a way that I know it's a date? Twice. Once I said yes, once I said no. You know how many times I've been kissed first? Three times. One of those by a drunk person who I didn't want to be kissed by, which really doesn't count as it was more like someone throwing a wet dishcloth with bits of broken china in it at my mouth. I have kissed (not including in plays and auditions and games of truth and dare and drunk men throwing themselves at my uniwilling face) nine guys. Nine. Only two of those made the first move. So don't give me that rubbish. I don't get guys making the first move on me. I wish I did. Life would be more interesting. Because making the first move all the time isn't that fun, even when you know for a fact that the guy likes you back because his friend told your friend or something like that. However, I have been accused of friendzoning. By people I had no idea I had romantic feelings towards me. Normally after years and years and years of being friends. If you hang out with a girl for ages and don't make a move, you're not being friendzoned, congratulations, you are friends.

And that Reader, is all!
Ash
x

Romantical...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tarrah!
Ash
x

Lessons in home sharing

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

1. There need to be rules

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

2. The Wall of I Would is very essential

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

3. Catch ups become an everyday experience

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

4. Different chores for different people

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

5. We are not grown up yet

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

6. Watching Friends never gets old

I suppose that one is quite obvious. 

7. You always have dating advice on hand

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

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

Ash 

x