Saturday, 17 November 2012

I just can't get you out of my head!

I was recently battling through the London Underground during rush hour half asleep but wholly agitated.  As I waded through the stone-faced commuters I found myself singing “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” in my head – it came from nowhere and I managed the whole song before exiting the turnstile.

It was only when listening to a programme on Radio 4 by Shaun Keaveny (Granny Dani has a new favourite thing, I’m now too old even for Radio 2!) that I realised that this Chitty incident was actually an attack of a well-known affliction. 
Earworms.

The word conjures up both comedy and gross images and it made me chuckle.  Now you know me, I love learning something new, so I got straight onto Google and found out..........that I was the last to know about this ailment.
Good ol’ Wikipedia defines an earworm as “a piece of music that sticks in one's mind so that one seems to hear it, even when it is not being played.......a type of song that typically has a high, upbeat melody and repetitive lyrics that verge between catchy and annoying.”

Radio 6 Music presenter Shaun Keaveny has been collecting his listeners’ earworms for three years and has now teamed up with a psychologist and Goldsmiths University to try “unearth” (ha-ha) why people become infected and which songs may be the most “earwormy.”  The Radio 4 programme was fascinating; explaining the high risk situations when these worms can attack such as when we’re doing boring, repetitive activities, early or late in the day or when we are stressed.  I love the idea of a song worming away through your head and what that reveals about your subconscious. 
Without going into too much detail of my medical history, I have found that I seem to suffer from these earworm invasions when I am stressed (see above; in rush hour) or as Frank Sinatra would say, “in the wee small hours.”  I am sure this is common; who hasn’t lain in bed all snuggled up only to find an earworm snuggling up in your brain and gnawing away at your sanity.
My most random experience has to be when I had to have a brain scan:  I found myself in a backless hospital gown being reversed into the long white cylinder and told to “relax” which I can assure you is impossible when you people are peering into your brain.  Well, for some strange reason as I attempted to “relax” and focus on every yoga class I’d ever attended these words entered my head:  “Is it worth a-waiting for, If we live till 84, All we ever get is gru-el.”  It was like a chant over and over again until (inwardly) I broke into the chorus “Food, Glorious, Food, Hot sausage and mustard.....”  Now, I’ve never been in Fagin’s gang nor had I recently watched the film Oliver! or auditioned for the show so why the f&*k was THAT song my earworm in the middle of a brain scan?  What must my reading have looked like?  I am surprised that the nurses didn’t wheel me straight down the corridor to the psychiatric unit or point me towards the nearest Actor’s Retirement Home.
A print out from my MRI scan!
For that occasion my earworm wasn’t annoying but some kind of subconscious safety mechanism. 

According to research by James Kellaris, 98% of individuals experience earworms. Women and men experience them equally often, but earworms tend to last longer for women and irritate them more.  Apparently there are certain groups of people who are more vulnerable to an earworm attack and creative people who work with music are one of them, so as a female musical theatre performer, I instantly fall into the “more vulnerable to an outbreak” category.  Add into the mix that people who sing along with the radio or on their own are even more susceptible and I can only be a one-woman epidemic.  My boyfriend recently exclaimed as I danced around the kitchen “You sing ALL the time!”  I am oblivious to this although his point was proved when I visited my parents and heard my Dad constantly singing or rapping to himself and I found myself joining in or harmonizing from upstairs!  Perhaps it is a genetic or learnt condition?

Researchers at Goldsmith’s University investigated which songs were classic earworms and ABBA’s Waterloo was near the top.  I didn’t need a scientist to tell me that; after years of performing the Mamma Mia! megamix I would get the tube to Waterloo Station, see the sign, and start singing that song again on a loop until the early hours.  As if an 8 show week wasn’t enough!
The words “affliction,”“infected” and “contagious” sound rather dramatic and don’t help with their image but supposedly these earworms are harmless and won’t do us any damage but try telling me that when you have the 2nd alto line of Mmm Bop! in your brain at 4am; you certainly feel like reaching for a brown paper bag or phoning the NHS helpline then!
So if a scientist was to study me and my earworms would they conclude that I reach to childhood songs in times of stress to remember an innocent, stress-free time or do I simply yearn to live in a musical?  Either way I’m going to embrace my earworms, welcome them in and perhaps dance along in the kitchen to the dismay of my boyfriend.  It seems the healthy option!
All together now.....”Oh you Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, pretty Chitty Bang Bang we love you!”

Sunday, 11 November 2012

Are books becoming Kindle-ing for the fire?

I was waiting to go into an audition on Friday leafing through pages of a printed out script praying that one last peruse would make the lines go in.  A fellow auditionee came in; we made the usual pleasantries “Hiya,” “What time are you in?” “Weren’t the tubes a nightmare...” and went back to our scripts. 

There were three major differences between me and my fellow auditonee; 1) He was a boy 2) He was at least a decade younger than me and 3) His script was on an iPad.  As I shuffled paper, he scrolled, I thumbed pages and he touch-screened.

Now I know this isn’t unheard of; up-to-date media is compulsory for us all nowadays even Granny Dani has succumbed to an iPhone and will happily list the benefits, but this is the first time I have seen a lack of paper in a ramshackle audition room.  I have always secretly thought that the acting profession was still slightly in the dark ages but maybe that’s just me?
I have an undisclosed love of books, scripts and all things paper.  My bookshelves are bursting and I dream of one day having a library with floor to ceiling books, a classic green banker’s lamp and perhaps even a ladder so I can whoosh about like Belle in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, but I digress....
"There must be more than this cyber liiiiiiiiife.."

I appreciate the advantages of iPads and Kindles and although I won’t march to Parliament opposing goggle-eyed screen gazing, I won’t get one myself.  I have an on-going spat with my brother-in-law who has embraced his Kindle and the variety it provides whilst I constantly disparage it by buying him endless paperbacks for his birthday!  Our whole lives are online; we work online, bank online, watch TV and can even find our soul-mate so I feel loathed to read books from a screen too. 

My A-Level English tutor taught me to appreciate the old fashioned book showing me there is nothing better than the tangible quality of being able to hold something that is definite and real.  I wish I hadn’t sniggered along with everybody else as he grabbed a nearby tome, fanned its pages and inhaled deeply exclaiming “Oh yummy yummy books,” because Mr Jones, you may find me doing something similar now!
There could be a balancing act between the two

I am totally aware of my hypocrisy as I write this via an online blog and as an aspiring writer I might, too, one day be swayed by self-publishing and eBooks.  EBooks are increasingly becoming the way to get your writing “in print” and has opened up a whole new world of freedom where a writer is not controlled by an editor.  In August of this year Amazon announced that eBook sales surpassed regular hardbacks and paperbacks for the first time in Britain; an expected and realistic statistic but it makes me shudder. 
 I mourn that my un-born children may not have a library of encyclopedias for homework or a stack of books for bedtime stories; I could retain prehistoric paperbacks at home but then they’d be the bullied kids who didn’t have the latest gadget.
Yes I am old-fashioned; my room is full of printed out audition scenes, old magazines and bank statements but I’d go around writing with a quill if I could.  I may turn out to be the Mum whose kids have to have secret Kindle session beneath their duvets or I may download my next audition script and “get down”, sorry, “scroll” down like all the cool kids .

I shall leave the final word to a proper published author, Jilly Cooper, who when asked if she’d ever buy a Kindle said, “you can’t drop it in the bath and the idea of going on holiday with 1,000 books is so depressing, I mean, you wouldn’t have time to get off with anyone would you?”

‘Nuff said!

Friday, 9 November 2012

Phillip Schofield - know your place


Many a true word is spoken in jest; there is an old quote from a Harry Enfield and Chums sketch “Women! Know Your Place.”  Although a woman’s place is now wherever she so pleases, there is an element of truth behind accepting what your place is.

As an actress you have to accept your place; not as a lower class citizen as believed about the first actresses in London but what our ‘cast-ability’ truly is.  We are judged by our looks, talents and niche and the sooner you accept what your cast-ability is the happier your audition life will be.  I may want to be Nala in The Lion King but I have to face facts that it is never going to happen.

Similarly, Phillip Schofield may want to be the next hard-hitting journalist hack but it ain’t gonna happen.  His place is as a warm, friendly, popular culture television presenter; we want to see him giggling uncontrollably with Holly Willoughby about phallic shaped parsnips not leading a campaign against the government.
from The Telegraph

I have always been a fan of the Silver Fox from the gopher, to loin cloths to the This Morning sofa but I think he got it wrong yesterday.  I suspect it was the This Morning editorial team/producers with Panorama aspirations that pushed this idea with dreams of Daytime TV seen to front the campaign against cover ups and paedophilia.  But they need to remember that This Morning is exactly that – “Daytime TV.”

It can be argued that David Cameron was booked as a guest so therefore This Morning was obliged to cover hard hitting topics (he was booked to discuss Dementia) however, it is doubtful that Downing Street’s PR team book the Prime Minister on such television shows for an in-depth debate.  The purpose of these appearances is surely to display how in touch he is with the people of the UK - those ironing at 11am and those waiting to hear from auditions although wherever he is, interviewed, David Cameron should expect to answer tough quesitons.  Debate and confrontation is welcome in all kinds of television and I am not insinuating that daytime viewers don't have opinions and a desire to share them but such acts must be done in the right setting.

The act of Phillip Schofield handing over a list of Tory names allegedly linked to child molestation claims to David Cameron has been called a “silly, tabloid stunt,” and I have to agree.  It wasn’t a presentation of well thought-out research, documentation or a manifesto but a list scribbled on a cue card that Phil said he “had got off the internet” the night before; his turn of phrase cheapened the act before he even handed it over. 
You don't wanna laugh but......image from http://unitedshadesofbritain.wordpress.com/

This conversation and David Cameron’s calm response obviously went viral over the Internet within hours; everyone had an opinion or a mock up-photo to tweet.  I am loathed to say it but I think the government are right to warn against “trial by Twitter.”  Response and opinion can be created so quickly online by any number of people and although there are so many advantages to the cyber world, it is right to be wary of this force, too.  Specualtion is expected but we must be careful of creating lists about such a scandalous and sensitive subjects without documented evidence.  Tom Chivers has written a great comment in The Telegraph blog today about this, citing how people are “incredibly prone to groupthink” and prompting us to remember the “name and shame campaign” of The News of the World a few years ago prompting vigilante behaviour against paedophilia.  He makes some throught-provoking points, take a look http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/author/tomchiversscience/

So Phil, you were a lovely Joseph but since I have accepted that I cannot audition for the blonde, leggy Ulla in The Producers, you need to accept that you cannot audition to be Jeremy Paxman – it would confuse the Dancing on Ice viewers.

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Christmas Countdown - Oh Yes it is!

Bonfire Night has whizzed away but there’s no time to mourn the smouldering village bonfires or rocket wrappers on the ground; Christmas is less than 50 days away!

Supermarkets and catalogues have been chucking festive food in our faces since August bank holiday but we’re just catching tentatively booking turkeys and choosing which 2013 calendar to buy, (Cliff Richard for me every time!) I love Christmas and I got my first anticipatory tinsel shivers when the Christmas edition of Red Magazine arrived in the post.  Every magazine is packed with festive outfits, recipes and stocking fillers in their November edition which although seems premature can actually fuel our yuletide anticipation.

Yes I'd look daft in any of these
but they're still Xmas "must haves!"
But as I read each page I felt slightly despondent; does everyone really have so many parties to go to that we must buy 3 sequined tops?  Who are the people with these busy social seasons and time to make canapés and drink champagne? Do we all have a lazy two weeks free to fill with family walks and tins of Quality Street?  I dream of having that fantasy Christmas seen in magazines, not the one you see depicted annually in Albert Square, but sadly, my inner 5 year old rattling presents on Christmas Eve is quashed by the working adult.

 
You see, I can only aspire to mince pie and port parties in a sparkly outfit because I am an actress and I haven’t had a proper Christmas since 2002.  Christmas is the one time of the year that actors are mostly in work; our agents’ bank accounts soar as we don thigh-high boots, jerkins and villagers outfits across the country in pantomime.

You can’t get more Christmassy than yelling “It’s behind you,” I hear you cry so, yes, we do indulge in the Christmas spirit but in a very different way to the Christmas in magazines.  Actors are the only humans not to gain weight during Christmas; the twice sometimes thrice daily performances guarantee that mince pies will not cling to your hips but the downside is the bags under your eyes get bigger and darker with each passing finale.

Our festive families become the 14 new faces at the first day of rehearsals and the 3 groups of local dance school children who supply the cards, homemade treats and cuddles in case we get homesick.  Christmas drinking partners can’t be your old chums in the local so instead it’s eggnog with Buttons, Abanazar and a celebrity or two to sign your autograph book. 

Replace this image with character shoes, berocca and 2litre Evian - that's more like it!
We may have the nightly festive night cap or company meal but most of the season is spent planning the drive home on Christmas Eve so that we can spend 24 hours under our family’s Christmas tree before heading back up the M1 at 6am on Boxing Day for the matinee.  Note to all patrons; it may be an English tradition to visit the pantomime on Boxing Day but more fool you.  Snow White and her seven dwarfs will either be shattered from an 8 hour round trip in the car, hungover, still drunk or just plain miffed that their families are enjoying a Boxing Day buffet whilst we are re-heating turkey in the green room microwave in-between shows.  A merry matinee it isn’t; the best time to see pantomime is Christmas Eve when we’re all full of Cadbury’s Yule Logs and anticipation to jump into our cars parked opposite stage door!

Even if an actor is in a West End job there still isn’t the chance of living up to the magazine Christmas; evenings are spent onstage instead of at parties and the “Company Christmas Do” is usually in January when the show schedule quietens down and room rental is cheaper.  The only people you see in sequins post New Year’s Eve are drag queens so you usually end up in an old frock like any other old night out to save face.

Everyone loves a fairytale wedding!
 
Despite all this I have always loved working over Christmas and have many happy festive memories of children’s faces lit up by over-priced colourful wands as they shout and scream at the stage.  But I have opted to have a “normal person” Christmas this year; I am determined to attend a Christmas ‘do’, see friends and spend quality (street) time with precious family.  But like all plans well made.....my other half is still doing panto in Torquay, so I’ll still be spending much of the holiday season driving up and down the M5 to see him. “You can take the actress out of the pantomime.....”

 
But maybe I’ll do it wearing a sparkly outfit and munching Waitrose canapés!

Friday, 26 October 2012

Have we all been "Brand"ed?

"Ouch!"
Before you jump to conclusions I haven’t got a burnt image on my bottom like a cow’s hide in the Wild West or succumbed to the effects of Russell like many a female starlet, but I’m marvelling at the pull of big market brands on us all.

I heard yesterday that the town of Totnes in Devon had successfully fought off an application from Costa Coffee to set up a branch in their high street.  “In yer face big soulless corporation!”  They wanted to preserve the independent businesses culture found in the town and, for once, the corporation listened and retracted the bid.  It must have been a hard fight for they succeeded where so many have failed; I am sure Tesco wouldn’t have been so humble, they seem happy to jump into the empty grave of a pub with tactless haste.

I like to think that I am all for local businesses and independent traders; I recently found a stunning local cafe in Twickenham called LuLu'z (@LuluzTwickenham) and will thwart bigger chains on the high street for their comfortable sofas and epic cake selection.  But I have to hold my hands up and say that this has not always been the case and I can’t promise I will never be seen holding a Starbucks Chocolate Chunk Shortbread again, (to the detriment of local business and my hips.)  For no matter how much tax certain companies get out of paying, a trip to a coffee chain is like going home for your Mum’s roast; it is familiar, comforting and you know what you’re going to get.

We have become creatures of habit blinded by brands and scared to go out of our comfort zone.  I have previously joked that the touring cast of Avenue Q should have been given shares in Marks & Spencer’s Food Hall but the same can be said for any touring actor; despite our meagre wages we rely on Fuller for Longer microwave meals and ready to eat prawns.  We all gravitate like Lemmings to the Starbucks or Costa in any town and are quick to label certain towns as “dumps” if they have yet to open a recognisable coffee house, “Oh how I miss London,” we lament.  As much as I spent hours trying to explore each town and find spots of local interest, I would collapse in a recognisable chair full of crumbs in a franchise brand and drink green tea because it was familiar. 


When you are working away anything that is recognisable becomes a comfort and lessens the miles between you and home.  I shamefully remember sitting in a Starbucks in every German town I visited on the Mamma Mia! tour instead of sampling the local cafe culture, but perhaps the fact that I was fake-tanned like a tangerine in deepest winter is the more shameful part of that memory. 
 
Or as they say in Germany "Ich liebe es!"
Another tangerine dancer friend was worse; he would screech “The Golden Arches!” in his Glaswegian drawl as our coach drove through a new town, because seeing a MacDonald’s meant he could eat for the next 14 days.  Was he a heathen sucked in by corporation brands or just homesick and unable to swallow any more Kartofflen and sauerkraut?

 
Like it or not, we have all succumbed to branding and I think it would be an interesting experiment to see if we could last a week without having any brands in our life at all.  I am not sure if I could – my friends would certainly miss the fake name game that is the current trend when visiting a Starbucks.  Could we be as angelic as the inhabitants of Totnes and really fight for local culture instead of just chat about our gripes over a Costa cappuccino?  Or are we allowed to have this modern human weakness for soulless but safe beverages that always taste the same from Tyneside to Truro?

But what about poor Martin from Totnes?  He contacted a radio programme discussing the fight against Costa and said, “I would have quite liked to have a Costa here, I like their coffee!”  Spare a thought for that lemming who will have to get on a bus to Newton Abbott for his caramel latte.

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Read all about it! - What goes on tour stays on tour


Oh dear Gareth!  It must be a slow news day, despite more pressing headlines such as the murder charges against Mark Bridger the celeb gossip section exploded with another alleged affair between the married Gareth Gates and an on-stage co-star.

I say “another” because he was caught out in his last touring musical, Les Miserables, and now his wife seemingly has to endure more headlines about his alleged musical theatre infidelities.  Post Levenson, we are all aware of the underhand tactics certain parts of the press will take to find (or create) a scoop and having personally witnessed such vile antics I am not quick to believe anything I read. Despite the likelihood that these rumours and photos are creating something out of nothing, it got me thinking about my experiences of the musical theatre tour bubble and the effect it can have on your “normal” life.

Being on tour as an actor is not unlike a 12 month work conference at an out-of-town Holiday Inn or the Christmas party in the office world; all routine situations, morals and sense become skewed.  Behaviour or feelings that you wouldn’t even register in your normal life become available and accepted in what can only be described as a bubble.  It is only you and your cast mates with the routine of daily gym visits, trips to the local Nandos and in-jokes.  The bubble grows over a contract and suddenly bursts on the last performance and you happily return to your normal life, as I hope Mr Gates can do if it is intact.
Bubbles are beautiful but they always burst

Over my 11 years as a professional actress I have played all the roles in this set-up.  I have been the partner left at home trying to understand the closeness between virtual strangers with jealous inclinations threatening a relationship and more recently, I have been the partner away working.  It is probably because I have learnt from what I have witnessed or experienced in the past that I did everything in my power to keep my relationship my priority this time.  Not wanting my other half to know what it feels like to wait by a phone when the curtain has gone down and to know that I would always choose coming home over Saturday night bevvies.  The one thing that flummoxed me in today’s article was the fact that the Gates’ show was playing Wimbledon and he was seen heading to the digs of his co-star instead of travelling the few miles home to West London.  If they were in a far flung city it is easier to comprehend socialising after a show but to me when you are performing in a venue near home it is a no-brainer; surely you rush back to your wife and child?

I have also seen the damage resulting from a young cast member basking in the light of the affections of a leading man.  It is more intoxicating than Doctor Footlights himself, the feeling of being chosen, special and by their side.  You start to live your on-stage romance for real with all the glamour and enticing angst that it entails and once you add a hint of celebrity to the mix then it becomes a lethal cocktail.

What is it that makes actors fall for each other?  Why should kissing someone on-stage every night suddenly become an off-stage activity lit only by the flashing call from your spouse on a mobile phone?  You spend 3 years at drama school learning “how to act,” so why are some people unable to keep their emotions separate from the acting?  Just because your character falls in love with your co-star doesn’t mean you, the actor, also has to; kissing someone for a living shouldn’t distort reality.  Most actors acknowledge it is actually quite a disconcerting and embarrassing thing to do, especially TV actors who are more worried about hitting marks and the technicalities of such scenes.
It is possible to have a dramatic kiss without the drama

And yet it is such a common story; two leading actors falling in love.  Obviously sometimes in-cast relationships can work but both parties being previously unattached always helps; certain people still hate Angelina for ‘stealing’ Brad from Jennifer but we celebrate the union of Greg Wise and Emma Thompson because as far as we know, no-one’s feelings were hurt.  I spent a whole pantomime season spouting my wisdom about touring bubbles to my leading man turn partner and have thankfully been proved wrong, plus the fact that we have been married on stage over 100 times also lets him off the hook for a bit!

But when the two characters are not totally single it can be awful, even for the rest of the people in the tour bubble.  You have to see the visiting spouse whilst knowing it is not your place to reveal the certain events you were privy to in a recent Wetherspoons, everybody is put in an awkward position. 

For the majority of “jobbing actors” such mistakes are made out of the media glare but that is sadly not the case for somebody with a celebrity status.  The theatre world is a small one; everybody quickly learns of your business without the aid of The Daily Mail and sadly the characters in both the latest scandal and the Les Miserables rumours surrounding Gates are known either by me or by many of my colleagues.  Some may be outraged and protective over the allegations others may be nodding knowingly, either way it leaves a horrid taste in your mouth.

Whether the speculation is true or not, it can’t have been nice reading for Mrs Gates or a proud moment for the actresses’ parents.  The press seems to forget that real life relationships are not as easily resolved as the ones we portray on stage. 

See for yourself;
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2214005/Gareth-Gates-gets-close-star-number-2.html

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single actress in possession of her audition folder must be in want of a treat!


I am heartily disappointed in Starbucks.  Not as part of an anti-commercialism vendetta, I love to support a local business but I don’t pretend you won’t see me in a Nero or Costa.  The reason for my annoyance with Starbucks and Co is that they, like many other eateries, have now put the calorie content on the signs next to their treats.
hmmmm....well done me!

So I now know that my favourite Chocolate Chunk Shortbread is a calorific 497 calories with a heart-clogging 18g of fat – it is only the size of my hand and yet it constitutes a whole meal and a half with enough fat to insulate a small bear through winter.  I wish I didn’t know the full horrors of the shortbread because that biscuit was my audition treat and now I have to think twice before I part with my £1.75.

Audition treat, I hear you ask? 
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single actress in possession of her audition folder must be in want of a treat. 
A post-audition treat to be precise; I’m sorry Ms Austen for bastardising your wonderful words but I’m sure even you would crave some sugary satisfaction after a particularly hard meeting with an editor!

For some strange reason I feel obligated to reward myself after an audition as if the two minutes of singing to strangers is enough cardio to warrant it!  I like to think that it's a reward for the whole process – from the phone call from your agent, to the frantic hunt for sheet music, maybe a trip to Chappells to buy a £25 compilation just to use one song, the early rising for vocal warm ups in the shower, the anxiety that lives with you all day until the 4.45pm call time to the final two minutes of screeching inappropriately to a panel who are mentally already on their trains home.  Phew!  You see a reward is clearly needed.

I am not the only one on this reward scheme; so many female friends do similar things.  Starbucks is a habitual recurrence in their admissions perhaps because there literally is one of every corner especially near London rehearsal rooms.  One drama school colleague goes for the cinnamon swirl, another prefers a chocolate muffin.  A dear friend of mine went to an open audition for The Lord of The Rings musical and after queueing since dawn and managing to sing 16 bars of Meadowlark in a different key to the one played by the accompanist she ended up in Haagen Daz in Leicester Square.  Whilst weeping to her Mum down the phone she nursed an ice-cream sundae, her reward for getting through such a trauma until one of those pesky Leicester Square pick-pockets, a pigeon, came and swiped it.  Obviously the weeping became wailing and a bad day became worse, the pigeon had denied her the one good thing about her day!
These Ballet-Boyz at an open audition don't look the types for beer or cakes!
from guardian.co.uk

This post was prompted by a conversation whilst rehearsing The Last Five Years that opens tonight.  My character Cathy has a song called “Climbing Uphill” where we see her audition disasters recounted over dinner with her Dad.  I suggested that she may have some kind of junk food because after a bad audition ALL actresses eat rubbish; this observation was met with confusion by the others!  But they trusted me (probably because of my 11 years worth of experience of bad auditions and chubby thighs!) and we now have Cathy munching a McDonalds whilst singing about going to the gym.  This does seem to be a predominantly female reward scheme, when I have mentioned this to other male theatre friends they look at me incredulously.  “No,” they reply with confusion, “well, I suppose I do go and have a pint.” Ah ha! We all do it but in the “Men are from Mars, Woman are from Venus” way!

This behaviour may worry nutritionists and is probably classified as emotional comfort-eating.  There are countless articles and books about how to stop emotional eating and the dangers to your health and well-being.  I read a scary article on this subject titled “You’re not a dog, so don’t act like one.”  This kind of reward eating is like drooling for a bone but it also harks back to childhood routines (what kind of psychotherapy doesn’t?!) where we were given treats if we were quiet/tidied our room/did well at school.  So perhaps the answer isn’t switching my Starbucks for fruit or nuts but in fact re-training my brain to think I actually don’t require a reward for doing my job!
I personally have to curb this kind of behaviour not only because my metabolism is now over 30 years old and therefore on shut down, but mainly because what if I suddenly have 5 auditions in one week? 
The anxiety + 2485 Starbucks calories = one week nearer to being air-lifted out of my house by crane on one of those daytime programmes. 
Actually, who am I kidding, what actor or actress has 5 auditions a week nowadays?  Sadly in today’s climate we are more likely to get 5 every 6 months so with my brain re-training and this lull in auditions I may finally be able to kick the habit.

So as I go into ‘tr-eating’ rehab the only person who will suffer is Mr Starbucks; without us emotional eating actors you’ll only have the yummy mummy’s for your profit margins and they’re always on diets!