One year on.......

An anniversary; a date commemorating an event. A wedding anniversary, a birthday are joyful things Remembrance Sunday a sombre event, but the anniversary of a loved ones passing or a first Christmas without them is unbearable. Our lives are made up of anniversaries good and bad and this week marks a reflective one for my husband and I. It is one year since we miscarried our first baby and marks 12 months of further miscarriages, pregnancies and fear all interspersed with the joy of getting married and creating our first home together. I refuse to use that analogy of a rollercoaster but it certainly feels like we’ve been on some fast paced journey that hasn’t given us the choice to get off to breathe and reflect.

I have been teary over the last few weeks as the enormity of this anniversary has crept up on me. Sad at the hardship we have shared but yet proud of the way it has galvanised us and created this partnership where we feel safe and protected together, ready to fight off life’s challenges.

We are not special. We are not the only couple to suffer loss and struggles conceiving a child, indeed it is everywhere and our story is no better or brutal than anyone else’s. But we own it and I chose to write about it because to me writing is the only way I can collate my thoughts and begin to understand it all. In my opinion, people don’t talk about miscarriage and loss enough. Of course it is an insanely private thing, my late Grandfather certainly wouldn’t be one to advocate openly chatting about one’s issues, but knowing someone else has been through it can sometimes really help a person deep in the mire of it all.

As I read back through my writings from a year ago, and then from last autumn when it happened again, the words scream off the screen at me. It is so raw, painful and honest. I knew that feelings would lessen in time so I feel glad that I wrote back then to fully appreciate their weight. Some of it feels like it was yesterday but others are vague as my body has worked hard to protect me from the pain of it all and forced me to move on.

“I never thought that I would carry my first baby out of the hospital in a jiffy bag. My name written on it in biro, diminishing the significance of its contents. I am that one in four. The potential mother who isn’t.”

Is how I started my reflection on my first miscarriage. Miscarriage varies for every woman; it can be a quick event in the toilet at work or it can be a rushed to hospital in an ambulance. Unfortunately for me, it was the latter both times with morphine pumping through my veins, my body unable to deal with what was happening.

“As my pupils enlarge and the pain dulls I am carried to the ambulance, my pulse has gotten so weak that it cannot be found. I feel as drained and devoid of life as that vital sign implies. I am wrung out and out of fight. My skin is drained of colour as every part of my being has been sent to my abdomen to fight off this attack. But I couldn’t defeat it on my own, it has won.

Just like last time, the pregnancy matter is removed from me by a doctor. Undignified and sad, it is yanked out like old seaweed from a plastic bucket. That potential for life looking like it never stood a chance. It certainly didn’t in me.”

The self-loathing brought on by a miscarriage is also over-looked. You feel like a failure; a mother who cannot protect her own child, a wife who cannot make her husband happy and a woman who cannot fulfil nature’s purpose. I now feel devastated that I could say such things about myself and mean them whole-heartedly. But it is natural in those weeks after such an event, when the world feels bleak, to blame yourself and I certainly did.

The language used by doctors also doesn’t help; “pregnancy matter” doesn’t quantify the meaning of what I felt was inside of me. I will never forget the sonographer, as I lay on the bed on my 36^th birthday straining to see some flicker of life from the mass on the screen, saying “I can’t condemn it as they has been some growth.” CONDEMN! Our second baby wasn’t some old building to be torn down. I understand that they see case after case like ours and it’s their job so emotive language cannot be part of it, but if I ever see that woman again........

However, today is to reflect and not dwell. Anniversaries are to be marked but they are not as significant as the original day. Things stay with you, perhaps even defining you in a new way but the pain can diminish with each passing year. Sadly in life these things happen, and to more people than we realise. Re-writing the Fairytale means to explore exactly that. I can honestly say that despite today’s anniversary I still feel like I am living my fairytale with my Prince firmly by my side. Life will always have the ogres, witches and storms, those fairytale ruiners, that real life creeping in. But there is beauty in survival. Beauty in living through certain events and discovering new strength that you failed to believe was within yourself. Life is never how you imagine it will be, but that’s okay because there will always be some good to be found from the ashes, even if it’s a teeny bit. Promise.

Rapunzal Let Down Your Hair - Hair Loss in Women

I had spent all of my life taking my hair for granted and most of my adult life trying to get rid of it; plucking, waxing, shaving, who wants to be hairy? Not me. I downright abused my hair in my career; working in the theatre it was bleached within an inch of its life, screwed up under wigs, back combed and hair sprayed twice daily. I didn't give my hair a second thought and took it for granted, in the way you do your parents, things that will always be there.

Peter Pan - abuse of the hair and the eyes
quite frankly! I mean, cycling shorts,
3,000 kirby grips and shiny tghts...vile!

But in my mid thirties it suddenly wasn't. It started with hairbrushes full of lost hairs, pillows covered in it and then clumps of it coming out when I showered. My hair has always been fine and rather limp but over a year it became scraggly and akin to those mullets sported by stereotypical characters on the Jerry Springer show. This continued for over a year before I let myself admit it was a problem.

It felt truly scary and I left it too long. I tried to explain it away; finding any excuse...it might right itself it might be a hair cycle, it might be my contraception, anything Google could spew at me. 

In this time my confidence fell away, there were contributing factors such as a career change and a tumultuous relationship but I didn't realise how much hair could define your self confidence. All the swishy hair adverts made me feel ashamed; I certainly didn't feel “I was worth it.” Despite women being able to do whatever they goddam like with their hair these days - a friend shaved hers off for Cancer awareness, another dyes hers a different colour each week - there seemed to be some primal thing in me that believed long shiny hair = attractive female. In the Victorian era women’s hair marked their status and femininity; long hair was seen as sexually alluring and at a time when most of the body was covered up their hair was a way of attracting a partner with your vitality and health. And sadly, I don’t society has changed that much.

I felt vulnerable, unattractive and wanted to be invisible. But my hair loss wasn't down to my contraception, career change or anything else I tried to pin it on, it was caused by stress. I was and continue to be lucky that it wasn't due to medical treatment or a malignant disease so please don't think I am trying to equate my feelings and experiences to those of people who are living through hell. However, I do want to highlight the fact that the stress we encounter from day to day can take its toll on bodies in different ways. For some it's IBS, migraines or insomnia but for me my hair follicles started to shut down from the prolonged period of tension I was allowing into my life. My condition was similar to Telogen Effluvium, where 3 months after a period of stress or a shock your hair follicles stop working and enter a resting phase, but a more chronic condition called Diffuse Hair Loss where the situation continues until the underlying problem is resolved.   I recently read about a woman who's fiancé broke up with her and the shock caused her to lose all the hair on her body, infact a quick Google shows countless stories like mine, I had no idea.

Stress is a dangerous thing because you don't notice it creep up until it's unbearable and the stroke or heart attack has already happened. The feelings of anxiety and heart palpitations become part of your routine and so this becomes your new normal.

I went to a specialist and was told ‘yes I was balding and to sort the stress out in my life.’ Something my mum had been telling me for years but I guess I needed a man who was paid £100s an hour to say it. Poor parents, we never listen and yes they seem to always be right in the end.

So I had to sit down and be honest with myself - what was the root of this stress. I waded through the excuses, battling the whole way and ignoring the glaringly obvious until I had to admit to myself that I was with the wrong person and our deteriorating relationship was wrecking us both. The adage that ‘you work through stuff and stick with things’ only works when you are with the right person. With the wrong one you become twisted, battered and broken and apparently it takes clumps of hair and an objective over paid outsider to make you see that.

It wasn't an easy transition, it took a lot of courage, therapy and yoga to take those tentative steps and throughout it all the hair kept coming away. It didn't suddenly get better, I thought I had made the decision so therefore I'd have a swishy mane of hair by morning but 2 years on I am still slightly limp haired but at least it isn't coming out anymore. I now only use organic and natural products, I have had to embrace my natural mousey hue and I haven't seen a hair dryer or straightening iron for an age. In fact I look rather feral and windswept most days but at least the wispy baby hairs signify new growth and they are staying put.

Luckily my sister bought me a Jason Donovan
wig so I have back up!

I've learnt how fragile we are. Our bodies are capable of incredible things; marathons, childbirth and old age, but we can only control them to a point and then nature takes over. A process I am truly trying to get to grips with and I've recently been given yet another painful reminder that the body will do what it wants, I am not in control of it or nature.

But back to the hair - take care of yourselves; learn to notice changes, become mindful of what feels wrong, your gut will tell you and if you ignore it your body certainly won’t. We only get one life (as far as we know) so you owe it to yourself to live well and enjoy the time you have. We all know that it can be taken away in an instant so why fill our time with stress, commuting and misery? Don't take things for granted; your parents, your body or your hair!

A new beginning.....

I went AWOL for a bit. Sorry about that. Life went weird and instead of writing my way through it as I normally would, I shut down, hid under the duvet and put all my energy into emerging out of the other side. And on my emergence I found something great, so I am ready to reset and refresh and I’m starting with a revamp of this blog.

 I was told over the last few years that life isn’t a fairytale, it’s tough and hard, get your head out of musical theatre land and settle for reality. That’s a bit mean isn’t it? And also completely untrue. Because I have learnt that fairytales DO exist but only if you are ready for them. My life turned into the last few scenes of a rom-com last year when I met my now husband; we courted, got engaged and married in such a joyous haze that I had to admit that every novel, film and poem I had read about love at first sight and ‘the one’ was based in truth. With all that feet sweeping and cloud 9 living, my writing got lost; angst is a wonderful muse whereas happy endings just seem like bragging.

So as I mature into this new role as fully fledged grown up I find my desire to create catch light again. ‘Rewriting My Fairytale’ is a nod to my hopes for that perfect life and enjoying the adventure when you truly become the leading lady of your own story. 

Deck the Halls with................

This week I have bought my Christmas tree from a farm and decorated it whilst watching Love Actually so my festive levels are soaring nicely. I feel like we have all been waiting for December, desperate for a reason to feel utterly joyful and to spread some love around after the onslaught of the previous 11 months.

Last year the Christmas offering at The Rose Theatre, Kingston brought me out of a bleak hole, rather like Moley, and so I was looking forward to topping up my festive levels with their new production of Wind in the Willows. The Rose has had a knockout year; Hollywood directors, high class productions and promises of more to come.

After the hustle and bustle of Kingston’s markets the pastoral scene that greets you on entering the auditorium is a welcome respite. Once again, the use of projection aids the creation of a make believe world on their versatile stage with a babbling brook and luscious green amid a light jazz soundtrack - despite devouring a Wagamama’s 30 minutes before I could almost taste the hot buttered toast!

The adaptation of Kenneth Grahame’s classic by Ciaran McConville has the Disney/Pixar factor; witty, fast paced and with winks to the adults too. The children squealed at the falling snow and Poop Poop (well, I did too actually – I don’t want to ruin it for you but the song is utter genius) whilst the adults enjoyed the dangers of ‘impromtu affairs’ and a tribute to Titanic. Lovely work Mr McConville!

The costume designs by Peter Todd have inspired me to dress like a rabbit in 2017; he made a beautiful job of suggesting animal characteristics via 1940s Britain, seriously, you may well see me sporting a floral tea dress teamed with an eared hat! The whole design is understated and gorgeous and pulls you into this gentle tale of friendship and loyalty.

That's GSA dance training, that is!

I was happy to see my old GSA friend, Mike Taibi in the cast stealing the show with his versatility as a baddie, an old nag (see I knew all that time in War Horse would pay off,) and a cameo as Lady Austin that leaves you wondering why you need to go see any other Christmas show to see a dame. The Youth Theatre are astoundingly talented and match up to the touching performances of the adult cast. The physical work is particularly impressive.

I don’t need a Facebook “review of the year” to tell me about my 2016; moments in this production did that for me. My whole year was there; the idea of coming out from underground to find an adventure, realising the value of home, seeing Mr Badger welcomed into the arms of Mrs Badger who has been waiting for him and meeting someone that makes you smell orange blossom water, the scent of a friendship that will last forever. All of life is found in this tale, that’s why it’s a classic. These are the qualities people are craving at the end of 2016; no need for big presents just grab someone you love and have a “just in case” picnic.

This year, of all the years, we need reassurance that there is good in the world and a reminder of the key values needed for survival; friendship, love and the appreciation for the simple things in life. This production of Wind in the Willows has them in abundance and I promise you that you’ll leave the theatre hopeful of a happier 2017 (and with a memory of the gorgeous Mike Taibi in heels!)

Wind in the Willows is playing at The Rose Theatre, Kingston until January 3^rd 2017, get tickets here.

Hasn't he done well? Edward Harrison at The Rose

There’s an old adage that actors are competitive – they don’t like to see each other do well and are only bitterly thinking about their own failures when they say “well done on winning your Olivier Award dear,” through gritted teeth. (Think All About Eve or Showgirls.) Well that’s utter tripe.

Most actors you meet are genuinely thrilled when a pal gets a super job; they understand all the years of graft, self doubt and physical theatre classes at drama school that they have endured and so are bouncing off the walls and speedily booking tickets when a job comes off.

Edward Harrison in rehearsals
for All My Sons at The Rose, Kingston

Someone from my old world who is doing jolly well is a lovely man called Ed. Edward Harrison. (check out his website here) We met years ago; him a LIPA graduate and I hailing from down south via GSA; there was no Anchorman style drama school rumble we had a mutual friend in the gorgeous Owain Rhys Davies and used to hang out sometimes. He’s done some amazing jobs and even achieved the holy grail of working in New York; (I’m not jealous I’m not jealous I said to myself even when I heard it was twice!) firstly with Kenneth Branagh in Macbeth and latterly in the critically acclaimed version of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall. Ed continues to be a successful working actor and is currently appearing in The Rose Theatre, Kingston’s production of All My Sons by Arthur Miller.

I love Arthur Miller’s plays and am off to see the show next week so I had a little chat with him about it.

It's very exciting to be part of the first Miller play ever produced here! (The Rose).....It's such a powerful, intricate play....a bedrock. All Miller's play's are layered and complex and so the detective work with regard to what the character is thinking and revealing has been fascinating.

 With our director, Michael Rudman, we've found a state of repression and control - so you're watching these people trying to keep the lid on for whatever reason. It's tricky, but rewarding when it really cooks.

The last play I saw at The Rose was thoroughly modern; will Arthur Miller have the same pull? I personally think that all good drama is consistently relevant and I can’t help thinking that the American Dream themes of Miller continue to echo as November 8^th draws near. Ed agrees...

He writes about people in love, in crisis, in search of truth, or peace - universal and timeless - that's why he is brilliant. All My Sons is about many things; namely family, courage, truth and deceit. There was an obsession with money and business in America at the time and you can draw real parallels about what that does to good people and where any sense of morality fits in all that.

What’s lovely about Ed is that he’s reached the stage in his career where he is able to balance it with real life; he’s engaged, passionate about pursuing his craft and yet still in touch with many of his LIPA crowd whether they’re still involved in the industry or not. It’s bloody lovely to hear about his well-deserved success and you can see him at The Rose, or maybe grabbing tea in the Wagamama's next door, from November 2nd - November 19th. Ticket details are here.

People Call It Ragtime......

You all know how much I love Thom Sutherland, I gushedly blogged my admiration a few years ago after seeing his production of Mack and Mabel at Southwalk Playhouse. Well since then his star has been in ascendance - justifiably so – from awards, to Broadway and now Artistic Director of The Charing Cross Theatre. (The Players to us thesbs of the naughties!)

Working with Thom years ago I was inspired by his passion, the rewards of which are constantly seen in his emotionally driven productions. You can be in any space and he will tug upon your heart strings, revealing the fundamental human story within a long lost musical or classic tale -memories of heaving sobs (The Notebook style) sitting in Catford watching the final moments of Carousel prove my point perfectly.

In recent years I have taken myself off on solo dates to see his work, there really is nothing more pleasant than a solo culture date; spending time with yourself, expanding your mind and enriching your soul should be on the NHS, but it can be equally pleasant to share a theatrical date with a rather lovely gentleman. If only so you can have someone to debrief and bat opinions about with afterwards!

This is where I found myself on Monday night – the press night for Thom’s new production of Ragtime with the aforementioned lovely gentleman. The theatre was as hot as the themes Ragtime explores; racial tensions, immigration, prejudiced society, changing perceptions and dreams for a better life. Surely there isn’t a more relevant piece of musical theatre in London at present to shine a light upon our current sad state of affairs? It felt quite shaming to watch Tateh and his daughter arrive on the boat full of hopes and dreams only to see them met with wary looks and challenges......

And that’s where Thom is clever – by getting down to the basic human stories of a piece without the bells and whistles, leaves an audience free to reflect upon how the human condition hasn’t really changed. It’s not just Ibsen, Shakespeare and Chekhov who do this, musical theatre can too. One of the best moments in this production is as the company surround the audience at the end of Act One, the lyrics of Till We Reach That Day resonate beautifully and don't allow us to escape the potency of the message. This production should be compulsory viewing to our government, Brexit voters and potentially voters on November 8^th, we can all be reminded of Tateh’s dream for the perfect movie from time to time.

So is this production any good? I have to admit that Ragtime isn’t in my top 10 musicals but with Thom’s touch it works; his direction is fluid aided by the fantastic, ever-changing, set. Using actor-musos works perfectly to bring the Ragtime to life; it’s a topical trend but never fails to be awe-inspiring to watch these insanely talented folk. Howard Hudson does yet another incredible job with the lighting – creating filmic images with shadows and gloom to guide the action, he really is a clever man.

For me, Earl Carpenter as Father steals focus; my Javert from our 2009 cast hasn’t lost any of his statuesque, commanding presence. I bloomin’ love his voice, rich and powerful and a welcome addition to this score. I can’t really recall the Father character from previous Ragtime productions, Earl’s performance made me understand it much better; What A Game is a masterclass in understatement and scene-stealing. He is constantly thinking and doesn’t need to display Father’s turmoil, it is just there in his eyes; indeed I barely watched Anita Louise Combe’s powerful final verse of Back To Before (wonderful vocals) because of the compelling stillness and pent up sadness of Father downstage right, this was the one moment of the show when I welled up. There’s a reason why certain performers endure, my gentleman put it perfectly “he is the Rolls Royce of performers...” reliable, classy and classic.

But enough about Earl! Ragtime is yet another hit to add to Thom’s increasing repertoire and it is so worthy of a watch. Take yourself on a solo culture date or go with someone who makes your heart smile but just go and enjoy the score, the performances and the message. It’s gonna sell out quicker than Glastonbury after all those 5* reviews, so hurry up!

The Good Canary gives us a good shake-up

We all get stuck in ruts and routines but sometimes life sends you a curveball to shake you up a bit. Although highly comforting, I think it can be good to be shaken away from your safe place. We can often cocoon ourselves in so tightly that we miss exciting opportunities that could change our perspective on life and our direction. 

This has certainly happened to me since the last time I last rambled on here, less of a curveball and more of a juggernaut actually found me over the summer, and despite being ripped from my moorings, I am thoroughly enjoying this surprising turn of events.

Amid my turbulence came an invitation to see The Good Canary at The Rose Theatre, Kingston and with reflection it seems a fitting production to experience at this time. It certainly isn’t the usual fare for outer London suburban audiences, less chuckling Ayckbourn and more Channel 4 gritty drama. Indeed, some folk sat around us seemed surprised not to see Stephanie Cole, or the like, reciting a jolly tale with a predictable ending but I love that The Rose has such exciting productions, they invigorate audiences and theatre in general - just what we need in my opinion. Only yesterday, I read that The Rose has more exciting productions for their next season including an adaption by April de Angelis of the highly popular Elena Ferrante novel, My Brilliant Friend.

The Good Canary, like the title suggests, is a bright yellow blast of a play rattling around in a cage, a story that reels you in and spits you out exhausted by the end. Zach Helm‘s script explores the relationship between Jack, an up and coming writer, and his wife Annie, who struggles with drug addiction and mental illness. I am always drawn to dialogue between a couple spiralling into self-destruct mode (scenes in Matthew Perry’s The End of Longing earlier this year left me devastated me with their accuracy) and there are certain moments in The Good Canary that capture the despair as Annie and Jack fail to communicate. Most interestingly, is a scene where no words are spoken at all.

It’s an invigorating, ice bucket challenge of a production, a fresh and exciting addition to The Rose’s season. Not to mention a huge coup to get the legendary John Malkovich as director. Actors must have been falling over themselves to get this gig, as I imagine the punters were on press night to grab a selfie with him. So was his direction worth his fee? I bloomin’ think so – it is fast paced and utterly suited to the text. Malkovich seamlessly engineers the actors amid big screens and projections; the effect is ultimately filmic and terribly fitting. I was led along and engrossed in the action. The play really worked for me in the sections where the medium was embraced; the mania of Annie doing housework on a high as the projections morphed in shape and a seamless almost dance of the drinks party as the guests slink around social conventions.

Steve John Shepherd channels  Jeff Goldblum as Jack’s agent  and the party-hosting mogul is played by Michael Simkins, (you know from my past blogs how much I adore him) here he is suitably suave and sexy and I wished to see more of him on stage. In fact, many of the other characters felt on the sidelines, you don’t get to find out much about them or their back stories (to discover more about Sylvia’s character would have been fascinating, a great cameo from Sally Rogers) but maybe that’s how it’s meant to be; the self absorption of Annie may mean that people around her appear two dimensional in her world. Just a thought.     

But in spite of the movie star director and sexy Simkins, Freya Mavor is the main attraction and the reason why you need to go and see this play. She gives a powerful performance as Annie – focused, physical, raw and mature. Doing that eight times a week and twice on matinee days is quite a feat and without giving anything away, her performance at the end of Act 2 is exceptional.

So as I embrace opportunities and take the metaphorical ‘bull by the horns,’ so should you. Go and see a play this week. Go and see this one. Don’t slope into autumn, not yet, there’s plenty of time for Hooga, rugs and boxsets, get to Kingston this week to see a truly exciting piece of theatre.

This no ordinary campaign.....this is a Mark's and Spencer's campaign......

Sometimes when people aren't making enough money they panic and spend more money trying to get it right. Marketing is big business all about buzzwords like 'branding' 'consumer' and 'demographic.' 

Sometimes these campaigns totally work like the drum playing gorilla or R Whites Lemonade, which I still sing occasionally to myself whilst tip-toeing about, but other times the "consumer" is left wanting to throw things at the TV. A perfect example is when I saw Marks and Spencers boss, Steve Rowe, last night talking about 'Mrs M&S.'  If you weren't present for your school English lesson on personification then you may have been left wondering if Marks and Sparks were only selling to one individual now or if Steve Rowe was talking about his wife. But no, apparently Mrs M&S is every woman, the core 50 year old who is loyal to the store. Well, which offended part of womanhood do we discuss first? The 50 year old (that's Halle Berry and Helena Bonham Carter by the way) who quite likes to still wear trendy things? The women who buy clothes already from the store and now feel like they may be dowdy? The women on each side of this age bracket who may still want to shop there?

Mrs M&S started the day as the 50 year old British woman but by the time I caught it on the News at 10 Mr Rowe was saying it was inclusive of every woman from a mid thirties working mum to a woman in her 80s. I mean who sat round that table (for how long and for how much?) and was struck by a lightning bolt that brandishing all the women in the UK under the same name was a good idea? 

To coin a 90s phrase as a 'singleton' I feel rather alienated. Where can the Bridget Jones of 2016 go to buy her big knickers, I'm sure she went to Marks and Sparks like a her mum taught her to but now why would a single woman want to be reminded of her lack of Mrs in her name when buying a bra? Not me that's for sure, life's hard enough when you're alone without M&S making a dig at you. If we're going to be pedantic about titles that only leaves me with 'Miss' Selfridge and I know that the current crop tops in there do not suit me! Oooo if they were still making Sex and the City, there'd be an entire episode and column on this.

I go to M&S for two reason and I'm not yet 50. 1- because touring life as an actor is fuelled by M&S Fuller for Longer range and flapjack tubs and 2- because my Nannie and Mum used to shop there and like all human beings I learnt by example. It's the place of first bra fittings, dads waiting on plastic chairs in over-heated stores and being dragged around as a child so the grown ups can have a catch up. But you learn from watching and suddenly you're in there yourself getting some pants and oooo look at the shoes they're similar-ish to the ones in Office and a hell of a lot more comfortable and BAM! You're in your 30s and love M&S. 

Each time Mr Rowe said Mrs M&S to the BBC reporter last night he looked as convinced as we are about this concept. He was dead behind the eyes and if there's one thing that being an actress has taught me is that the eyes don't lie. I know that it's a bit 'damned if you do and damned if you don't' but my advice to Marks and Sparks (my Nannie's name for the store) is - don't. Do what you know, M&S - classic pieces, the old favourites and great picnic food; don't try to be every woman because I have news for you, we're all different (but we do all need pants that wash well and hide a multitude of sins) so don't forget about us. Maybe a mother/daughter campaign might be better? Generations of women going where their grans went..... you're welcome Mr Rowe for that Xmas ad idea......I'll only need 12.5% commission for that inspirational nugget!

Just Do It!

I’m so glad that many of you were inspired by my last blog. Your lovely response made me think it might be worth charting my productivity plan journey with you – so here’s how it’s been going and you’re all welcome along on the ride.

February in the productivity plan asked me to “Nail What Really Matters” I did that through having some quiet time and journaling – I decided upon having a family, smiling, giving and receiving love and being healthy.  March was titled “Do Something!” No ambiguity there then. It’s all very well having the intention but I should get off my bum and do something about it.  We are awash with clichés; ‘less talking more action’ or ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Being surrounded by people who talk and don’t act is soul destroying because you cling onto the hope that their talk brings. Which leads me back to my life lessons of 2015 and onto March – smiley daffodils and lighter evenings energise us all - so I got “doing!”

Trying a new gym routine and saying yes to social invitations were a start and they felt like small victories. But a turning point was at a funeral of an old family friend; she had left us far too soon from cancer and the church was packed with people that admired and loved her. As the service progressed it became clear that she led a full and busy life, always giving out love and energy to benefit others. It was not for recognition or plaudits but merely to be involved and this felt like a massive metaphorical whack around the face. I’d been looking inwards to try to work through things and been in a career that involved me thinking mainly about myself.  I was thinking about me so much that my head was in danger in of protruding from my a*%e!

So here’s what I did in March –

I started planning a charity event to fundraise for the hospice where our friend spent her last few days and Cancer Research UK. Sadly, we have lost so many people to cancer this year – and it’s only April. So I thought we could have fun and raise as much money as possible for these causes.

It is a Grease 2 Singalong in the Guildford Fringe Festival – this festival is organised by a dear friend of mine who is constantly ‘do-ing’ and achieving and it is full of great events. Grease 2 is, in my opinion, an awesome movie that always brings me joy and there is a real cult following. I am hoping to entice some of those cult followers along to Guildford on July 31^st with a costume contest, raffle, drinking and of course singing at the top of our voices. I am in full organisational mode (I even rang Paramount studios in LA!) and it’s going to be great. I hope that I can spread some joy and raise some serious cash to help Phyllis TuckwellHospice and Cancer Research UK.

If you fancy joining me, please book a ticket here and get planning your costume! You can also follow the event on Twitter @Sing_Grease2 all proceeds will go towards the charities.

I hope that you are having a productive and happy time – please let me know what you’re up to and as we head into April, with all her showers, let’s see where our action can take us!

Role Models - the dinner party game

I’m attempting a year of positivity after a slightly below par 2015. Don’t worry this isn’t one of those new year resolution blogs which I’ll be giving up by mid February, (bleurgh!) A dear friend told me that rather than resolutions I should have goals. And not just general twaddle like ‘lose weight’, ‘run more’ but make them specific and be held accountable by someone so you have to explain how you’re doing or face the naughty step if you haven’t! I liked this idea of being productive and having a plan.

So when I read an article by Magdalena Bak-Maier mapping out a productivity plan it only strengthened my resolve. For January, she advised to find supportive role models – well I’ve been mulling this over, my afore-mentioned mate is definitely one, but I also started ruminating about dream role models. Kind of like the ‘dinner party guest game’ but with an inspirational twist!

o   Imelda Staunton in a rehearsal room

What performer hasn’t marvelled at this lady’s talent since her commanding performance in Gypsy? I admire her for her talent, her enduring marriage to the equally cool Carson and for her ability to just be magnetic in every performance she gives whether on stage or screen. But my main reason for having her as a dream role model is because she’s short; she would give me confidence as a small actress. I was once told by a director that it was a shame I was so short because I’d never play a lead. Now, the real reason may have more to do with my lack of star quality talent but the fact that I took it to heart must have had something to do with my lack of belief in my ability to succeed. I used it as an excuse when explaining away lost auditions but even to myself before I went in. Now all the positive thinking books in the world will tell you that your beliefs can shape who you are and what happens to you. So Imelda and I would hang out in a rehearsal room, chatting through scripts being small and fabulous!

o   Charlotte Reed walking in the country

I discovered Charlotte Reed via Facebook; she started drawing images to help her get through depression and as they helped her she began to realise that they could help others. She has a stall at Portobello Market and has released a book called May The Thoughts BeWith You. Her quirky drawings are full of energy and positivity. Their message is succinct and straight to the point; they achieve the same reaction as a long-winded article. They are colourful and a couple now adorn my bedroom wall. You don’t need to have suffered from a similar illness to reap the benefits from her work. Having a walk outside with this dream role model would get me out of a dull mood and make me see the brighter side of life.

o   My Grandad in armchairs with a cup of tea and biscuits

This man is a real role model and very much alive and kicking so I’m cheating the brief rather. But he’s special so I don’t care. My Pop has taught me hundreds of things including how to play snap and that there’s no such thing as a kipper but as an adult I’ve begun to see the real lessons - Family comes first, they will always be there to support and catch you. A close family is the ultimate safety net; a person’s eyes tell you the truth; a relationship is based on compatibility and the secret to a 60 year marriage is each person thinking they’re getting the best end of the deal.  I wear my heart on my sleeve far too much, I’d tell the postman about my latest drama, but his reserve shows me that there is a dignity to keeping something back. But his ultimate lesson is the power of the mind; you can do and survive anything if you put your mind to it, it is a powerful tool. And that is why my Pop is one of my ultimate role models.

o   Antony Sher sipping a GnT by the River Avon

Another actor – but this man’s passion for his craft is why he made the list. His published diaries are full of his creativity when preparing for a role; he uses art, research and truly submerges himself. I envy this ability to live and breathe acting plus his obvious talent. The way he writes about his life with his partner, Gregory Doran, in their second home near the RSC makes me want to sit with them by the river sipping gin. I imagine we’d have gossipy chats peppered with Shakespearean debates and maybe, just maybe, some of his passion would rub off on me.

So that’s my current four, I’m sure I’ll think of plenty more just like we do with the dinner party game! I have found this quite nice to think about. It’s obviously working as this is the first time I’ve felt moved to write in a few weeks, plus the sun was out today so positive 2016 is going alright!

Who is inspiring to you? Do let me know, if only so I can go “Oh Yeah me too!!” 

A Christmas Carol at The Rose Theatre, Kingston

I didn’t feel jolly or remotely ready for Christmas. I am bruised after months of heartache and festivities are making me feel bitter and alone. Rather like Scrooge.

But I had very nicely been invited along to the press night of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol at The Rose Theatre, Kingston and so I dragged my gloomy self up the A3 to see if I could be ‘out-Scrooged.’

Firstly, may I say what a fantastic theatre The Rose is; shame on me for living in Twickenham for years and never having visited it before.  It has a cosy, yet cool, vibe – all mis-matched furniture, warehouse architecture and quirky cafe. Think more Royal Court than local repertory theatre. It is warm and welcoming (especially with the red carpet VIP treatment tonight) with people piling into the grand auditorium. The stage is vast, rather like that of The Olivier, with a 'groundlings' section where families settled in on red cushions.

The programme told me that A Christmas Carol hasn’t been out of print for 172 years and after countless adaptations (woo hoo for The Muppet one) we’d be forgiven for thinking ‘oh not this again.’ But this production at The Rose is breathtaking and packed with sentiment.

I was thrilled to see my Thenardier from my last Les Mis contract and West End darling, Martin Ball, playing Scrooge. There’s a reason why this man works so much – he’s brilliant. His exquisite vocal technique effortlessly tackles Dickens’ prose with the right amount of weight and humour.  With such buzzing ensemble scenes you could easily forget that Scrooge is watching, but Ball is living every moment and his subtle reactions are heartbreaking.

He is supported by the very professional Rose Youth Theatre (I saw the Red Team, marvellous, with a young Ebenezer who was the spit of Robert Pattinson!) and a cast of actor-musicians, including Tomm Coles who I saw this summer as Sowerberry in that brilliant Watermill production of Oliver! As I’ve blogged in the past, it really is the year of the actor-muso and rightly so – they bring such an authentic quality to a production and I marvel at their talent. They help to create a beautiful soundscape, although at times it was slightly too amplified for my sensitive ears, a technical issue not theirs. 

The scenes feel panoramic with clever projections that create a murky and bleak Dickensian London. I enjoyed the nod to Bentalls, all the details are there in this great design. The ghostly appearances were made particularly effective through projection; Marley’s entrance was truly terrifying and the ghost of Christmas present (an incredible creation reminiscent of Bjork, all angles and innocence) was spectacular.

I don’t want to give too much away and spoil the surprises. All I will say is that the end of Act 1 moved me to tears, as did Scrooge’s arrival to his past where I could have danced with Christmas delight (despite holding my breath and watching through tears!)

There’s a reason why this story is retold every year and it is simply because it’s perfect. It has all the lessons you need for a happy life; Christmas is for family, for love, life is an act of will and The Rose does this story justice with an energetic and moving production. Director, Ciaran McConville writes beautifully in his forward,

“Scrooge’s story illustrates that it’s never too late to change the world, nor our place in it...........this is the season for wise hearts and second chances.”

That is certainly my Christmas wish to have a wise heart and a second chance. And I’m sure that we could all do with a dose of A Christmas Carol to escape the world of David Cameron decisions and news reports for two hours.

So whether your heart is broken, bruised, delicate or confused this Christmas, I urge to warm it with this production of A Christmas Carol. Let that be my Christmas present to you all!

Bums on seats for Mr Foote's Other Leg

Visiting the Theatre Royal Haymarket last week was a very proud moment for me. I was meeting my dear friend Laura Toots** who is making her play debut there in Mr Foote’s Other Leg. You may remember dear Toots as my accomplice in Henna Night years ago, a play we co-produced with dreams of broadening our careers beyond musical theatre. WELL, SHE DID IT! Her play debut wasn’t a regional tour or fringe event, no dear Toots doesn’t mess around with starting small, it is at the bloomin’ poshest theatre in London’s celebrated West End! Proud doesn’t even come close, she’s so brilliant.

AND it’s a fantastic play. Well, it stars Simon Russell Beale and anything that man touches can’t fail to be fantastic. It is based on a real man, Samuel Foote, a one-legged transvestite and comedy actor. The play is saturated with fast-paced wit and bawdy fun but with some genuinely touching moments.  Foote was a fascinating man and I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of him before so thank you to the writer (and actor in the cast) Ian Kelly for bringing him to our attention in such a successful way. I’m not sure the tourists sat next to me with their two children under the age of 12 agreed as the first scene commenced with some ‘fucks’ and ‘cocks in jars!’ but trust me it’s great.

I was surprised to see the upper balcony closed on a Saturday night and saddened by the interval when I was realised what a gem of a play London’s theatre audiences were missing out on. I’m sure they were all jammed into some budget-busting musical but more fool them for not seeing this before boarding their planes home.

If you are an aspiring actor, drama student or just a simple theatre lover then why oh why aren’t you knocking down the doors of The Haymarket to see Simon Russell Beale live onstage? He is one of the country’s most gifted actors, (arguably the finest) with such natural delivery and impeccable technique to make throw away comments reach the back of the dress circle. Dressed in full 18^th frockage, he manages to make you well up with empathy and then p*ss your pants a moment later.

Writer Ian Kelly calls his play ‘a love letter to theatre’ – full of the characters that will forever appear in the life of such beautiful buildings. You cannot help but laugh knowingly as the stage manageress laments her life washing actors’ socks and backstage dressing-room chat behind the scenes. But this play is not just peppered with in-jokes for actory folk; it celebrates the will to perform and write plays that deserve to seen, the role that theatre plays in society and that unnameable quality that defines a performer.

In short, get yourself a ticket. It will be a great Christmas pressie, a way to spend time with a loved one and the show is so wonderful that you will thank me for it! Trust me, I’m an actor.

**Toots is not her real, or even Spotlight, name but an endearing nickname inspired by a superb Trombone impression in her repertoire!

A Little bit of Honesty

I have been having some singing lessons. They are long overdue and my first step towards getting Daniella and her mojo back together.

I have written in the past about how important it is to keep honing your skills when you are a performer; singing lessons, dance class and theatre trips. In my silly world, I haven’t lived up to my own advice. I’d let my passion and drive dwindle so no wonder I’ve been a rudderless, miserable shadow of myself.

Well, I’ve had a good telling off/rude awakening whatever cliché you want to use here and I’m on the path to finding my own Act 2.

When you’ve been teaching for a while yourself, it’s really strange to be the student again. It’s like starting from scratch, realising that old habits were wrong and perhaps that’s why I hit a wall professionally. But how liberating to start again and learn new ways to do the thing that I love best. 

Yes, it’s hard but I have a great teacher and it feels invigorating to have a goal. Only today I saw an article in The Stage about actors needing to constantly re-train and re-hone theirskills. Becoming stagnant is the danger, not only as an actor but in life to. My wise old Dad says life is about always working towards a goal, if he was on that Jeremy Vine Radio 2 segment “What makes us human,” I suspect that this would be Dad’s definition. It seems a good one to live by.

Who knows if it will lead to auditions and being a working actress again, but I do know it is a step towards being the best that I can be again.

Why am I telling you all this? Is this over-sharing with the inter-web world? Well, yes, it is very personal to me but I feel like it might be relevant. A lovely tweeter contacted me this week saying that she enjoyed the honesty of my blogs – so what’s the point of only writing about the good stuff? That doesn’t always help and is the blog equivalent of all of those “nom nom my gorgeous meal, look at me and my perfect relationship and baby scan picture” facebook folk. Life is a yin and yang of good and bad and if this little bit of honesty can help someone, then great. There may be actors out there who are losing their confidence like I did, people who are unsure what to do and it may help to know that we all feel a bit crap from time to time. Just don’t let it go too far, don’t lose your mojo entirely – trust me, it’s scary. So go and try to do something positive, something small. Just re-address the balance of creativity in your life in whatever form that may take for you. What’s that phrase? Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves? Little steps folks, little steps!

I wish you all a happy day.