Awkward, as in: I am.

I've spent the last couple of weeks taking part in a drama festival at a boarding school in Petersfield. Although not staying, I've been there so much that Mum's been looking after the cats for me and I've just been going home to sleep. The first week we rehearsed Much Ado About Nothing, the second we rehearsed Twelfth Night in the day then performed Much Ado in the evenings and in the third week, which is where I am now, we are free in the day and performing Twelfth Night. Except for me, back at work.

Anyways, it's been a very valuable experience for me for several reasons, none of which I was really expecting. Namely, I have 1) found it really, really hard, 2) had a mahussive ego dent, 3) have had an unexpected kick up the bum. The only thing that has really been as I expected is that I have enjoyed myself but even that has not been for reasons that I thought I would.

To elaborate:

1) I was not expecting it to be so hard for me to have normal conversations with people. Seriously. I was so completely shy on the first couple of days that I barely spoke. When I did, I said things that probably made me seem ever so slightly simple. Since then, I have been impressed by how boring, inarticulate and quiet I am. I have been completely out of my comfort zone: I didn't know anyone when I started; no-one is the same age as me; and the residents all met before I even turned up on the first day. Then the residents have been able to stay up drinking, chatting and forming friendships and running gags while I've been soberly driving back to Southsea. It has been quite lonely at times and I've been so irritated at my inability to just connect with people. However, I'm starting to come through the other side of it now and actually chat and laugh, which is what I need to remember. It isn't so much that I am unable to talk to people but that it takes me longer than it should to chill out about it. I read somewhere that shyness is just another form of egotism, which is true. A lot of it comes from thinking that everyone else is constantly noticing and judging you, which is rarely the case. Actually applying this knowledge is a different matter, though.

2) I am not as good as I think I am. I do, as an actor, have both pride and ego. This is fairly necessary, I feel, in order to be able to get up in front of an audience and perform. If I didn't think I could, I wouldn't be able to. On the first day, I had a certain amount of rage. I had been given a tiny part in Much Ado and nothing at all in Twelfth Night and I'd been fine with that, thinking I was going to turn up and everyone would be so good that I'd be completely blown away. On the first day, I genuinely thought they were all a bit rubbish, including Beatrice, mainly because it's on the list of parts I really want to play. However, the whole festival has been something of a marathon exercise. I am exhausted at the end of the day and my body and voice are starting to get somewhat knackered. If I'd had that number of lines, especially alongside the amount to do that the same actress has had in Twelfth Night as Feste, I genuinely don't think I would have been able to do it. And do it well, which she has. Even though I am good for amateur theatre, there is still so much I need to improve on. I need to be more disciplined and I just don't have the training to fall back on. I probably wouldn't have cast me either.

3) I have surprised and impressed people, including myself. After doing a bit of singing in Much Ado, I went along to the first day of Twelfth Night rehearsals with the director's vague notion that there be a small onstage band, which he'd kind of just had the idea for. This turned into seven-hour daily rehearsals where we learned songs, used bits of these for the show at appropriate points, made up stuff, taught them to people, worked out harmonies and underscored movements. My main contribution was writing everything down, to the extent that I missed the company party on Friday because I spent it in the office next door writing up a cue sheet. That isn't as tragic as it sounds; there were a few of us with beer and cake and gossip, and the occasional drunken interruption from next door. There are 113 cues which is an impressive memory feat given that we only had one point five runthroughs prior to the first performance (the second runthrough got interrupted by a swarm of bees). It has been so satisfying spending every day singing, especially around a group of people who've never heard me before. I've had a lot of compliments. I won't lie; that's been amazing. But the compliments have been followed by "when are you playing next, can I come and see you?" At which point I wonder what the heckins I've been doing with my time. I've already emailed Kathryn; The Fake Aunts are getting mobilised.


What I expected was that I'd turn up and it would be easy. I expected, because I have become more confident in my day-to-day life, that I could transfer this to a new environment. This has not been the case. I expected to win them over just by being a good actor but you do kind of get lost in the crowd when you're surrounded by good actors. What has happened instead is that by working hard, being creative, reliable and supportive, I've managed to make an impression. When your name starts getting used as a positive description for something, that is surely a good thing.

It is entirely possible that by being so useful, I will end up in a similar role next year but I hope I can do more if they let me. Don't tell anyone but whisper it very quietly so that the gods might hear and take pity on me:
Titania. Number one on the list.

Beside The Sea

I have moved. Did you know this? I am now living alone apart from the cats and a disturbingly high number of moths. I have no problem with moths ordinarily but I disapprove of their clothes-eating tendencies so there we must part ways to the extent that I try and smack to death any that get too close to the wardrobe. Not that I've got the best relationship with my, or indeed any, clothes at the mo but I'd prefer to keep the garments I have free from gaping moth-holes. Weird thing about me and weight loss: I start noticing how much fashion does not help me out. I am a funny shape - broad and tall but curvy-ish without a real waist - and fashion and I rarely see eye-to-eye. At the moment, fashions make me look either mannish or matronly, and garments where this doesn't happen cling to the body I'm not happy with yet. It takes me an age to get dressed somedays.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, moving. I moved in April. Finchy got an offer he couldn't refuse, fortunately not from the Mafia, and I decided to try out something that I've been slightly nervous of: I no longer live with another human. So far it has been going okay. It is Expensive living alone but I don't appear to be going crazy, at least not to the point where I've noticed it. Although I wouldn't necessarily, would I? You'd tell me, wouldn't you? Ta.

There are some definite positives. I've created this tidy, quiet nest of a place and there's something about it where I feel like I shuck off concerns of the day when I enter it. Being accountable to myself means that I actually get things done. Rubbish gets cleared, floors get cleaned, ironing actually gets ironed. I've even started making meals from recipes with herbs and spices and such, which is a nice change. I've been a fairly decent cook in the past but have shied away from it in recent years. Apparently putting some effort into stuff like that even when it's just for you is actually worth it. Who knew?

The best thing, though, is the sea. I am so close. I walk out of my door and it is right there. At night, multicoloured lights swing between lamppost. By day, especially on the rare nice days, there's so much life out there. When I don't have anything to do at the weekend, I wander out with a book and just spend an hour or two outside. Sometimes I can feel a bit self-conscious about going out and doing things on my own but there's something about the seaside that negates this. It doesn't matter that I'm not doing anything specific; I'm beside the sea and for some reason I'm at home.



In other news: I phoned up for a hair appointment earlier and was given a slot at 3.45 but just as I was about to ring off was stopped: "Oh wait, there's a note saying you have a lot of hair, can you come in at 3.30 instead?" I like that the difference between my hair and other people's is quantifiable: I have 15 minutes more hair.

Also, I had a chat with Mr P earlier. He left and Charlotte, who has so far been ignorant of my crush, turned to me and said, "you know, it's a shame he has a girlfriend. You'd make a really great couple." After I admitted that, maybe, yes, I found him slightly attractive, she proceeded to point out an instance where there had been "a chink in the girlfriend armour" and encouraged me to wiggle my way in there. Good grief. Even my Mum said the other day that "it isn't as if he's married or anything." Of course, she may have just been trying to shut me up, in which case, job done.

All I'm doing is chatting occasionally and liking him from my side with absolutely no expectations. There's nothing wrong in that, is there?