Hmmm... I wonder what life would be like without my favourite things

Hello dear friends and welcome once more to the world of Mildred!

For the last couple of days I have been visited by the cold-and-flu fairy. As a consequence, I have been experiencing moments of pure surrealism. And that, friends- is how this blog came to be. It is courtesy of the cold-and-flu fairy that what I am about to write is what you are about to read.

You see, I got to thinking about my life (as you do when you are ill and don't have very much to do) and I decided to list my top 10 favourite things in it. In case you are interested, they are (in no particular order):

1. I greatly enjoy the pastime of thinking.
2. I love the fact that I am in love with Dave.
3. I enjoy learning.
4. I absolutely love to sleep!
5. I like listening to music and playing musical instruments.
6. I try to laugh at least 5 times a day... and usually succeed.
7. I like writing... evidently, given that I keep a blog and also write music.
8. When I need a break from all the standing-up that I do in life, I greatly enjoy sitting down.
9. My favourite number is the one and only 13.
10. Lastly, I love to perform.

Then, after I'd made this list, I got to thinking about my life once again... only, I imagined it without my favourite things. That must sound very odd I know, but it was rather interesting. I don't know if you know this, but each one of my favourite things can also be a phobia. Did you know that? I didn't. But I do now. So, I decided to investigate further. Below is what my life would be like without the above:

1. Fear of thinking = Phronemophobia. This would be incredibly tricky to monitor as I think we're always thinking, aren't we? Plus, my friend Elsa just asked me if dreams count as thoughts, as aren't dreams an extension of your thoughts, courtesy of your subconscious? Hmmm, the more you try to define and restrict thinking, the more impossible it becomes... How do you stop yourself from thinking?  
2. Fear of falling in love = Philophobia. This is a shame... as if I hadn't fallen in love with my best friend Dave, I probably wouldn't be as happy as I am now. Plus, I can't imagine Dave not being in my life any more as it would be very boring.  
3. Fear of learning = Sophophobia. Oh dear, back in January, I made the new years resolution to learn something new everyday. This means that I'm going to fail my new years resolution for the rest of the year... and it's only February. Not good.
4. Fear of sleeping = Somniphobia. This is bad. If I couldn't sleep, I'd be useless at my life. Couple that with being scared to think, I really don't know what I'd do with all this extra time on my hands...
5. Fear of music = Melophobiva. Well this wouldn't be good. In fact, it would be awful. I play the piano, I listen to music and I write music. In an instant, all that is gone... pffft! And as Elsa just pointed out, I wouldn't be able to watch any films or much television either (unless I had the subtitles on and the volume muted). The radio would become a definite no-go zone too.
6. Fear of laughter = Geliophobia. No! Laughing is my favourite hobby! But most importantly, science says that laughter keeps you young... and if science has said it, it must be true.
7. Fear of writing = Graphophobia. Well, my blog would cease immediately and Musings of Mildred McManus would be no more. That would be a sad day indeed.
8. Fear of sitting = Thaasophobia. What a terrible phobia this would be. Standing all day would make your legs really tired, so you'd want to sit down... but no, you can't! And then, as if that isn't bad enough, you can't then go to sleep later on in the evening, after you've spent the whole day standing! I'm exhausted just thinking about this (even though I'm not supposed to be thinking).
9. Fear of the number 13 = Triskaidekaphobia. Well, I guess I'd have to change my lucky number. I only chose this number because it's so unlucky for so many, I figured it must at least be lucky for someone.
10. Fear of situations such as stage fright (at a performance) = Topophobia. I guess that I would never have gone to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for starters. But I suppose stage fright can be anything. You don't need to be stood in front of hundreds of people to experience this do you? Wow, this would be bad.

So there you have it. If I had all these phobias, life would be very bland. It would be a bit like a slice of wholemeal toast without butter or jam or anything on it. Just toast. And that- I think you'll agree, would be very dull. Which I suppose makes me glad that my life is filled with butter, jam and marmalade. Having got to the end of this blog I realise, I actually am quite lucky. But above all, I am very happy.

Mildred x

PS If I had all of these phobia's, that would make me a phobophobic (or someone who has a fear of phobias)!

Thank you to http://phobialist.com/#A- for the official phobia names. 

My 50th Post Celebration! The second and final part*

* Or, as an alternative title, Post Number 51! Hmmm, doesn't quite have the same ring to it, so we'll stick with My 50th Post Celebration! The second and final part.


Hello to you, wherever you may be in the world! Currently I am writing to you from the UK, from my house, from my lounge where I am draped in scarves and poncho's in an attempt to be warm (although you probably don't need to know that)... You may, however- be interested to know that I have exceedingly cold toes (reason unknown. I just do).

Anyway, I'm not here to tell you how cold my toes are (although, that is a subject I cold easily write about at length). No no, I am here to bring to you the remaining highlights of the life of Mildred (AKA me), so far.

So, we come to July:

In short, I got a haircut, had a cold and attempted (very poorly) to write my life story. Although, looking back at these blogs, I can tell you that though these events may seem mundane and trivial, they were in actual fact life defining moments- particularly the haircut (By jove, I've done it: I've only gone and become a fully fledged adult this morning!), as I realised that I'd left the childhood me behind and become a grown-up.

Likewise, I managed to catch a cold at a very crucial moment (My body has waged war on me when I need it most). Looking back, it's quite amusing how dramatic a simple thing can be made. I drew this blog to a close with: 'Let battle be won through mentholated madness, soup, hot honey and lemon  and regular nasal dousing. I will not succumb to the battlefield, nor will I succumb to snoozing drowsily in bed with a hot water bottle. I will fight this cold valiantly until the end. But first, I think I might indulge in a nice hot bubbly bath... As of 12 hundred hours today, Mildred v MB (Mildred's Body) has begun. May the best Mildred win.'

August:

Loads of stuff happened in August- too much to write about! But the basics: well, Dave and I went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival- an international theatre festival situated in... Edinburgh. We met some wonderful people and I debuted my play that I had written (loosely based on my life) called Mildred McManus for World Minister. It was an interesting month where I learnt four important things:
1). It rains in Scotland. A lot.
2). My raincoat was not waterproof.
3). My shoes were not waterproof. But...
4). ...my mascara was waterproof.

My top three August blogs are (in no particular order):
1). People, flyers and the categories they fall into
2). My final show in Edinburgh
3). I welcome some new friends into my life: lovely wellington boots

September:

Basically, I visited Bulgaria with some friends. Whilst there, I read the autobiography of Julie Andrews (AKA Mary Poppins) and decided that when I returned to England, I would need to watch several Julie Andrews related films... which I did and very much enjoyed. Oh, I also became a part-time decorating-builder.

January 2012:


Ah, January... Such fond memories. This was the month when I was introduced to Mission Impossible and had my first palm-sweating-I-can't-believe-this! cinema moment (My first palm-sweating cinematic experience). I also made a public appeal for new members to join the Day Dreamer's Association (WANTED: New members to join the Day-Dreamer's Association ), became engaged (and then unengaged) to Dave (The tale of the engagement that never was, one woman's lifetime ban in the kitchen and goodness only knows what else...) and lost a sock (The curious incident of the missing sock), although I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that said sock turned up... eventually.

As I draw this- my 50th blog (part 2) to a close, I would like to dedicate it to two lovely ladies that I met recently. I don't often do this sort of thing, but I would like to today.

So- as a thank you for your presence on Saturday and Sunday, I dedicate this blog to Shirley and Lynne (who know who they are).

Mildred x

A whirlwind hello and goodbye!

Dearest friends,

How lovely it is to write to you from the comfort of my kitchen with the soothing tones of the dishwasher sloshing away in the background. Ah, such small delights I have missed!

So, to recap the last few days.

Dave and I returned to Surrey, after completing the epic journey from Scotland to home in his little Ford Ka. Who knew that car was cut out for life in the fast lane? With a little faith, it exceeded what Dave and I thought possible... That's right, it took on the big boys of the car world: BMW's, Mercedes, VW's, Audi's, Jaguar's... you name it, the little Ka over-took them all! (Disclaimer: all over-taking was done in a considerate and careful manner- Dave is a superb driver, and- if I don't say so myself, I'm rather good too).

Anyway, that was then. Since being back on home turf, I have had to complete zillions of tasks that I put off before departing to Edinburgh as time is of the essence. You see, I am due to fly to Bulgaria tomorrow. In true Mildred fashion, I am yet to pack anything. In fact, I am yet to unpack my goods that were taken to Edinburgh... but I would like to here make it known that I have at least done all my washing (and ironing), so credit where credit's due I like to think.

Instead of packing, I am doing things that I probably should have done ages ago. Things like printing off my insurance certificate, printing off some work, learning Bulgarian phrases and general procastionatory measures. However, the learning of the Bulgarian language is not going as well as I hoped it would. So far I have managed to master six crucial phrases (or more truthfully, words) which- in theory, should make the experience that much more authentic. And Bulgarian.

I know how to pronounce the following words (but if you are Bulgarian please ignore the phonetic spelling):

• English: Yes. Bulgarian: Da.
• English: No. Bulgarian: Ne.
• English: Goodbye (informal). Bulgarian: Ciao.
• English: Thank you. Bulgarian: Molya. 
• English: Bean soup. Bulgarian: Bob.
• English: Sheep's cheese salad. Bulgarian: Shopska.

So, I think you'll all agree that these are going to be extremely useful whilst out there. I will admit that there is a bit of inconsistency in my key phrases, but the reason is simple: these are the only ones I can remember.  If all else fails, I may need to use the fail safe method of communicating whilst abroad: body gestures and enhanced facial expressions. However, I am fairly confident that the essentials are all there- if needs be, I'll just eat sheep's cheese salad for the week and bean soup... 

Of course, there is one thing I am neglecting to tell you. In Bulgaria, their written text is Cyrillic, meaning it looks a bit like this: Името ми е Mildred McManus и аз живея в Англия*. Just in case you are interested, this translates as: My name is Mildred McManus and I live in England. 

With that in mind, reading the menu is going to be impossible I suspect. So it looks like it's shopska and bob for the duration of the holiday! 

Anyway, I shall be popping off as I have loads to do and- as so often happens, time is slipping away.

Upon my return from Bulgaria I shall once again be in touch.

So for now, ciao! 

* The translation of the Bulgarian came from this source: www.bulgarie-bg.com/tradbulgarian.php.  

My final show in Edinburgh

Friends, friends, friends,

I write to you today with a mixture of emotions: elation, sadness, relief, excitement and jubilation. Yesterday, was my last show- hence the jumble of mixed feelings. Yes, I am happy with the experience and the amount that I have learned- both as a performer and as a person; yes, I am excited about the future; and yes, I am slightly sad that the whole festival routine has come to an end. Dave- I know, is looking forward to more than six hours sleep and a slower pace of life- we never thought we'd say this, but bring on the countryside! (Or just for a few days so we can catch-up, at least).

Anyway, I'm going to tell you a little about the last performance in Edinburgh of Mildred McManus for World Minister. As far as final performances go, it was rather memorable- yet more material to one day put into my (as yet), unpublished autobiography (though in fairness, it will probably never be published because I'm not really a cool dude. Not yet. Plus, I haven't got a huge scandal to sell it with either, but you never know. Only time will tell...).

Now, before I tell you how the last show went, I would like to share with you a bit of a conversation that I had with my very good friend Elsa. It went a bit like this (and trust me, this is all relevant):

• Me: Blah, blah, blah... oh, did I tell you that I don't like coffee? But I am partial to a slice of coffee cake. Blah, blah, blah. Hope you are well! Everything is tickety-boo here in Edinburgh.
• Elsa: Glad it's going well. And ditto: I won't say no to a smidge of coffee in cake form. Especially tiramisu! That's rather lush.
• Me: Ha! Funny you should mention tiramisu, as last night I had a slice for dinner with a dollop of walnut ice-cream. It was very tasty indeed.

BRIEF INTERLUDE.... A LITTLE WHILE LATER...

• Elsa: I forgot to say, good luck with your last show tonight Mildred- I have a feeling you're going to absolutely blow the roof off! Oh, on a different note, I think we might be telepathic as I was thinking about tirimasu and you at the same time. How weird is that?!

• Me:   Thanks Elsa! Fingers crossed it goes well- thanks for thinking we're going to blow the roof off  (but hopefully we won't literally blow the roof off, because that would be a very expensive roof to replace). See you soon!

CONVERSATION COMES TO A CLOSE... ONTO THE SHOW...
 

We open the doors and the audience enter- so far so good.
We dim the lights and a hush descends- so far so good.
We begin the play and I get into the swing of things- so far so good.

Then, when I have just received (a scheduled) telephone call and am learning whether I have made it into the final four candidates for the World Minister presidency, a fire alarm goes off! So I had to put the telephone call on hold and then proceed to evacuate the theatre and then, the rest of the building. (It's fortunate really, that in the play- when impersonating an air hostess, I really do gesture to where the emergency exits are located).

Anyway, we're stood on this huge bridge outside whilst the fire alarms are blaring in the middle of my performance, no less! Then a fire engine rolls on up, but it's on the wrong side of the road, so it just cruises straight on past the venue. A few minutes later it returns- sirens blaring and the firemen exit the vehicle, run straight past the entrance of the building and into another one further along. All the while, I- with my audience, am still stood on the bridge, still in the middle of my performance. But I suppose I should concede- there was a rather peculiar smell coming from somewhere, so it was just as well we were evacuated. You know, safety first and all that malarkey.

Thirty plus minutes later, we were given the all clear and allowed back into the venue. I then resumed my show. Though I did have to explain to the official that I had (supposedly) put on hold for over thirty minutes that there had been a toast situation. Yes, that's right: a toast situation... what can I say? I was thinking on my feet.

Thankfully, the rest of the show continued without incident. But I mean, talk about unlucky! It wasn't even Friday the 13th.

When I was stood on the bridge, all I could think about was what Elsa had said to me about blowing the roof off. How did she know? How could she have foreseen such an event occurring? Does Elsa possess a secret human power that none of us have been blessed with? What else does Elsa know?

Anyway, all is well that ends well. So I would like to end with a few parting thoughts:

• My top three Edinburgh shows were (in no particular order)- Alan Palmer's Diva's of Hollywood, Kev Orkian's The Guilty Pianist and Chris Wolfe's Generation 9/11.
• The best performance I felt I gave was (funnily enough), my thirteenth show.
• I am delighted that I no longer need to flyer!
• Thank you once again to the one and only Dave- he now has legendary status and will hence forth be known as Dave the Magnificent.
• Thanks also to Dave's brother Tim, for very kindly offering us a place to stay.
• Lastly, thank you to you- my lovely readers.

I don't believe that because my time at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is over, that is the end of things. Hopefully- in the long run, this is the beginning of my career.

So when I next write to you, I will be home following an epic road trip back with Dave. Until then, farewell.

Mildred

A mish-mash of Edinburgh gooble-de-gook

Hello hello lovely friends,

I hope that you are all well, happy and dry. (It will come as no surprise to you to learn that I am writing to you whilst it is raining outside- no joke. Really, my writing has become a form of procrastination: flyer or write... flyer or write... flyer or write? There is no contest. Evidently, I prefer to write to you)!

So, this morning, I awoke early- not to the sounds of delightful birdsong, oh no. But instead to the roar of a lawn mower, cutting the communal grass less than eight hours after midnight. That's right: before 8am. Unbelievable! And when you're keeping later hours than you would do normally, it is not a pleasant alarm clock. (Admittedly, I do try to ensure that I am in bed the right side of midnight, otherwise I fear that- like Cinderella, I will encounter major problems post-midnight. However, unlike Cinderella, my transportation is not an issue- and neither is my dress. Nope, I'm more concerned about looking more and more like a panda with the less sleep I get. So- naturally, I like to be in bed- though not always asleep, by 23:59). So I would just like to un-thank the person who thought it was a sensible idea to mow and do goodness only knows what else at such an early hour.

Anyway, following our previously futile attempts at flyering, Dave and I decided to think outside the box and try a different method of attack. Stuck to the bottom of the boards that we were wearing, emblazoned with my face across our chests, we attached signs that Dave had geniusly created. We had signs to appeal to all sorts of people: 'SALE SALE SALE: Every seat must go!'; 'No gimmicks or weirdness! Just a fun play with music and Mildred!'; 'Fabulously fabulous show!! Come and enjoy Mildred's funny and fabulous journey. Laugh, cry, have fabulous amounts of fun!'; and so on.

We branched out even further still, and decided to give away some biscuits too. (I mean, wow, talk about generosity!). We thought that it was a fail-safe way of getting the audience in, however we had not foreseen how picky people would be when it came to freebies. Two people declined the biscuits because they were without chocolate and another, because they were not McVities (er, hello, we're not made of money?! And as Dave has just pointed out to me- they were free!). But between us, I had not foreseen this situation arising. I mean, I was overjoyed at my free pens, notebooks and t-shirts. It didn't matter that the pens were blue and black, that the notebooks were without lines and that they didn't have any t-shirts in my size. It didn't matter in the slightest, because they were free!!

Right, rampage over...

I hope that you are all enjoying the Summer, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. I'm not going to write a huge amount today, but I am going to leave you with several parting thoughts and other bits and bobs that don't merit an entire paragraph!

• Last night, to escape the festival madness, Dave and I decided to take advantage of the fact that it was Wednesday and headed out to the cinema. It was a nice change to be in a different environment and we enjoyed the film. What we did not enjoy was the permanent moving and knocking of our seats, courtesy of the people sat behind. Particularly, as it seems, that wherever I go, and whenever I go to the cinema, I always manage to plonk myself in front of the chair knockers. I guess, I must just give out an aura that says I enjoy a complimentary back massage when watching films, as it never happens anywhere else.
• I have had a delightful morning, catching up with some old friends- Olivia and James and cannot wait for them to see the show. Enjoy the rain you guys!
• I saw a rather funny show by two ladies called Working Wo-mens Club. It did what the title says and consisted of a series of sketches given by women whose characters were in some way connected with working women's clubs. I left smiling- which is what you'd like after a piece of comedy.
• I went to another seminar/ workshop/ thing yesterday morning and learnt that, in the UK, the professional actor works for just 11 weeks a year. Did you know that? I for one was rather surprised.
• I would here like to declare that I am still very much enjoying my show, which is interesting, as I would have thought that I would start to get bored with my life... but no! I am still waiting for the boredom to set in, but I don't think it ever will as a very wise man- Anthony Reimer, said to me that you must always remember that each audience is seeing it for the first time, so behave as such. I took his advice on board and I am now a revolutionised woman! Thank you Anthony.
• Lastly, but by no means least, I would like to thank Dave for being so wonderful for the duration of our time in Scotland. But also, for all his help, because without Dave, things would be rather different. It's wonderful to be able to share this journey with my best friend, so thank you Dave.

Right, I think that's everything covered. Until we next meet!

Mildred

People, flyers and the categories they fall into

Hello to you all from a drizzly, damp Edinburgh. (Well, I say it's drizzly and damp but I'm inside at the moment, writing to you so it may have changed since I last ventured outside... but that's highly unlikely as it has rained- at some point, everyday. The last I heard, that was the latest weather status.)

Anyway, enough about me and what I'm wearing. I'm going to take this opportunity to fill you in since I last wrote to you.

So, since I last wrote to you, I have attended two very informative and useful workshops to do with acting- one yesterday, the other today. Yesterday's was by a really funny and enthusiastic American actor and today's, by two British people- one man, one woman. As a result of these workshops, I have managed to obtain two free t-shirts (one for me, one for Dave), four pens (two black ink ones from yesterday and two blue ink ones from today) and two notebooks. Fabulous! Of course, my newly gained knowledge was also a bonus... but we all love freebies! Especially when we've run out of money... 

Right, moving swiftly on.

I wanted to tell you a little about the observations I have made on our favourite topic: flyering. I have noitced that the potential audience/ members of the public have certain standardised responses. Initially, I thought that there was two categories of people: those that accepted the flyers, and those that didn't. I now know that to be wrong.

These, are the following categories:

• those that walk with their eyes permanently to the ground to avoid eye contact, and therefore, avoid awkward chit-chat. I call them the-eye-to-the-ground-ers.
• those that like to collect piles of flyers so that they can feel like they are giving the people with flyers hope. However, they will probably read said flyers when they have time to objectively look, ie, when they get home. I call these people the-flyer-hoarders.
• then there are those that- similar to the above, collect the flyers, taking them from the flyer distributor without a word and then- horror of all horrors, they proceed to dump the pile in the bin right before your eyes. I call them the-collectors-that-dump.
• next we have the people that don't wish to engage in conversation, but wish to be part of the festival, so take a flyer from you like you're partaking in some dodgy dealing. I call these the-hand-shufflers.
• the penultimate group of people are often fairly abrupt with you, but at least they leave you knowing where your stand. They shake their head when offered a flyer and decline with a simple 'no', or 'no thanks'. I like to call these the-out-right-no-ers.
• now we reach my least favourite group: the people that blatantly ignore you, even though you are evidently talking to them. They never take a flyer from you, they never make eye-contact, they never listen to you and- above all, they never acknowledge you.  I call these people the-make-you-feel-invisible-passers-by-without-peripheral-vision.

Now, my final bit of flyer related experiences comes courtesy of a man whose utterings- though not very long, were none-the-less, rather amusing. I said, 'would you like to change the world Sir? Ten past five today.' And then he turned around and said 'no thanks, not today. I have dinner reservations at five.' Dinner reservations v change the world... is there even a contest?!

Anyway, I am here going to bring things to a close and leave you with a few after-thoughts.

• I have broken my rucksack in, courtesy of all the walking. The first few days were- quite frankly, agony. But now, I feel nothing.
• Yesterday I had a walk-by* of Prince's Street.
• Yesterday evening, I saw a very interesting show with Dave called Hypnotist, Titan Knight. It featured a man that juggled with a fully functioning chainsaw, a machete (I think) and a huge blade. This- I watched through the gaps between my fingers covering my eyes. The hypnotist stuff was bizarre to say the least, but we were just watching. Dave and I decided not to be hypnotised- a decision we were very happy with! Oh, there was also a lady there that had over 7000 body piercings!! I didn't know that there was enough space on the human body for that many accessories...
• Lastly, I would like to say good luck to The F Word girls. Their show is on at the same time as mine, so I won't get the opportunity to see theirs. But- from talking with them, it sounds rather fabulous and I wish them the best of luck with the rest of their run as they are all such nice people.

So until the next time,
Mildred

* For those of you unfamiliar with the term 'walk-by', it is basically like a 'drive-by'. You pass through an area, and that is about it. That was what I did yesterday: I passed through an area like a local and not a tourist to get to my final destination. I had a walk-by.

And we thought Sunday's were our day-off...

...how wrong we were.

Friends, fellows, fellowees: hello! Hello and welcome to a fabulous musing by me, Mildred.

I write to you today, on what is commonly known as Sunday (which really, is a notion that's quite misleading in itself. I ask, is there sun today? I answer, no. So why is this day called Sunday? I mean, talk about false advertising on a massive scale! For this day to henceforth continue being known as Sunday, there ought to be sun in the sky on any days when the word 'sun' is stuck to them. Call me crazy, but I suddenly became aware that I need to be smiling all the time, because that's how I am on my poster. So surely- if I can be accused of false advertising by not smiling, by the same token, the English language creators need to give an explanation as to their lack of congruence between the day title and the facts?)

Anyway, enough of linguistic analysis! I promise you, that is not what I am here to write to you about. As far as yesterday was concerned it was relatively quiet- a fairly uneventful day. But that does not mean it wasn't interesting.

When I was in the dressing room before my show (AKA the changing rooms AKA the ladies loo's AKA the restroom, despite obtaining no rest in said room), I got changed into my stage outfit. After, I went to do my make-up at the huge mirror above a random wooden desk that is covered in red and orange pot-pourri that ceased to smell some time ago. This is my pre-show routine: get changed, do my make-up, do my hair, do a few vocal warm-ups and half-hearted stretches and then, mentally go through my play whilst sat on the floor outside the theatre. It's fairly standard practice...

But anyway, yesterday, I witnessed a major toilet incident- a rather embarrassing faux-pas on the part of an unknowing young lady. Unfortunately I can't give you as much detail as I'd like as I was lining my eyes at the time and thus, trying to avoid poking my eyeball. What I can tell you though, is that this young lady came bursting in through the main door into the dressing room and then turned left to enter a cubicle. As she pushed open the door, there came a rather startled and distressed scream as the cubicle was already occupied. In my shock at hearing this anguished scream, I dropped my eye liner, which then managed to mark my nose on it's descent to pot pourri head-quarters...

A few moments later, I took to the toilets myself and found, rather ironically, that I was locked in and couldn't get the blasted door open. I mean, talk about bad luck! Luckily, I was still dressed in my wellington boots and managed to hoick open the door (eventually). But I'm not going to lie... being locked in a windowless loo cubicle is not my idea of nerve-steadying calm ten minutes before my performance is due to start. In fact- between us, I felt a rather disconcerting pain in my chest when I tried to wrench the door down, but to no avail.

Happily, you will all be relived to know that this story has a happy ending. I emerged safely from the cubicle as a stronger person, having survived such a disconcerting moment- especially as Dave could not have saved me because he is a man and therefore, not allowed to rescue a damsel when in her greatest form of distress... trapped, between four walls in a rather questionable environment... the ladies' loo.

I later went on to have fun on the stage- so much so, I almost got the giggles at one point! Not good, not professional, but rather funny.

After, I went to see a magic show called the Manipulators. It was really quite intriguing, rather clever and funny too. Admittedly, I was waiting for the immortal magic words to be uttered: abra-ca-dabra, alla-ka-zee, but they never were. But, I found that this did not disappoint me because it made the magic seem- somehow, cleverer. I think they did something quite unique by managing to make magic for adults give you that same sense of wonderment that you had when a magician in a top hat and a wand gave you when you were a child. A very good show.

Well, I think that here is a good time to say goodbye. But before I do, I am going to leave you with a few parting incidents:

• this morning, when I was going through some paperwork at home, I found my phenomenally over-priced picture with the Thai Lady Boys of  Bangkok and me. Unfortunately, there is not so much of me left in the picture... my face has now been obscured by a piece of paper that got stuck to it as a consequence of the rain... oh well, it'll make an interesting story in my autobiography (one day...)!
• I was fortunate enough to see the delightful  Alan Palmer (of Fabulous Diva's of Hollywood) before his final show. I just wanted to say- Alan, it has been a privilege to meet you and I hope you have a safe flight back over the (rather large) pond.  For those of you who have not had the opportunity to meet Alan, the only way I can describe him is like sunshine in a bottle- you can't help but smile after chatting with him- especially in the Scottish rain. Dave and I will miss you.

I'll be in touch with you all soon. But for now, I am off to flyer. So much for a day-off...

Mildred

The good, the bad and the packed lunches

Whilst pondering what to write to you, I made some notes in my notebook about the last few days. Whilst doing so, I was nibbling on a biscuit that contained precisely 49 calories- no more, no less. 49... And I have to say, you can taste all 49 calories... Yum...

It's my fault really. When we were in the supermarket, Dave went to look at the t-shirts. Thinking that maybe- in the interests of saving time, it would be more productive if I went off in search of sustenance- I wound up in the biscuit aisle. By this point, I was already laden down with boxes of cereal and other carbohydrates (such as pasta- no less). They say- whoever 'they' is, it's not good to shop when you're hungry. Well, I happen to disagree with this statement. I would say, it's never good to shop when you're not hungry, because I then opted for healthy 'alternatives' we shall say. That, is how we ended up with cardboard biscuits, instead of something yummy and ever so slightly more calorific... Please accept my sincerest apologies Dave. In future, I will leave the biscuit selection to your discerning eye.

Anyway, whilst on the topic of food, did I tell you I have started to make packed lunches for Dave and myself? No, I don't think I did.

So. Every morning when Dave is in the bathroom, I nip into the kitchen and I make up two packed lunches. We have sandwiches that consist of some butter that is a bit solid, so ends up pulling the bread apart; lettuce, cucumber, mayonnaise and ham (or in Dave's case, ham and beef with a little kick of fire in the form of English mustard. Though my star sign might be Aries- and therefore a fiery sign, I am afraid that I do not share Dave's liking for the heat). I then add some low-calorie wheat-ish sort of crisp-things... What did I tell you... It's never good to shop when you're not hungry because you then go on a health spree and have to pay the price the next day for your- supposed, 'good intentions'. Of course, I then pop a yoghurt into the mix and the dastardly 49 calorie biscuits... Dave, is not a fan. And- for that matter, neither am I.

*

So, I feel that the time has come for a Fringe round-up of the last few days.

The show continues to get better after every time- which gives us heart. But if I'm honest, the weather does not help audience numbers in the slightest. Dave and I have seen many well-known faces on the streets, flyering their shows like the rest of us, but they seem to be finding it just as hard as us. After all, we are only one of two and a half thousand shows out there. How are we supposed to stand out when we are against teams of fifteen or twenty, when there's just the two of us: a Dave and a Mildred? And apparently, this year, 37% of the programme is dedicated to comedy. That- I think you'll agree, is a whoppingly huge figure. People know what they want to see- and in these economically tricky times, it seems to be something to make them laugh and/or, free.

Anyway, onto more positive news. Dave and I promised the wonderful chap Chris Wolfe, that we would attend his show, as he came to see me in mine. Chris's show is called: Generation 9/11: So Far/ So Close and was stonkingly marvellous. It was very thought-provoking, but at the same time very insightful and carefully comedic.

Dave and I also saw Des O'Connor. Only, it wasn't the Des O'Connor. It was a young chap with a ukulele instead, not the older chap we were expecting to see. This other Des was on The Hamiltons: High Jinks with the Hamiltons, which was a rather interesting show! They have guests on their show who are featuring at the Fringe. We left that show with a new statistic- courtesy of Christine: did you know that the average show loses £12,000 at the Fringe? We didn't.

Anyway, onto any other business:

• Dave and I saw the man from the Harry Potter series that plays Filch, the care-taker. His hair is shorter in real-life.
• We went to a stand-up comedy workshop, where we considered a major life affirming career change, before opting against it.
• Dave spoke some pearls of wisdom today (metaphorically, not literally, because otherwise- if he did speak in pearls, we would be rich by now). He said: 'If  The Apprentice contestants think they've got it tough, they should try selling a show at the Edinburgh Fringe festival. Here we have 2500 other teams to compete with- not to mention all the other festivals that are happening here.' 
• Dave and I would just like to say a big hi-dee-hi to our wonderful friends back home who couldn't be here in Scotland. So, hello Elsa and Archie- hopefully the sun is shining where you are!

So, I am going to pop off now as I have realised that blog writing is a major form of procrastination that stops me from flyering the world. Until next time,

Mildred (and today, Dave)

I welcome some new friends into my life: lovely wellington boots

Since yesterday's downpour (which, funnily enough, has not relented and is still pouring down), I have upped the ante in the footwear department and invested in a pair of wellington boots.

Honestly, what must I have been thinking when I packed the following?:

• 2 x pairs of canvas pumps- one sky blue and white, the other purple floral.
• 2 x ballet style pumps- one navy blue, the other black and cream. (Not much foot covering on these shoes- even less than the canvas ones).
• 2 x high-heeled shoes- one red (open toed) and the other, black (classic). Note: these shoes are not conducive with the cobbled streets of Edinburgh.
• 1 x flip-flop- scratch that, I was wise enough to unpack those at the last moment.

What must have been going through my head when I packed the essentials?

Did I manage to bring over 22 pairs of knickers? Yes.

Did I manage to bring an ample array of t-shirts and then proceed to live out of just three on an alternate basis? Yes.

Did I bring my pink slippers with the pretend (pretty) hippo faces on, to make me feel more at home? Why yes, of course.

Did I overlook the most fundamental of all items: the waterproof garments and shoes? Yes.

How did I end up in this situation? I have absolutely no idea what-so-ever. (Much to my dismay, I am beginning to realise that- perhaps, after all these years of dismissing my mother as a holiday-suitcase-packing-warden-enforcer, perhaps there is some methodology in her methods. Perhaps I need to admit defeat, hold my hands up and say that last minute packing does not work after all: I have been fooling myself for years).

Anyway, I'm going to leave you with a few parting thoughts:

• never- and I repeat, never go to a supermarket late at night with the intention of just buying a couple of pints of milk and some wellies. Two hours later and £64.52pence lighter, I had purchased the supermarket's most expensive wellington boots and milk on offer.
• greet an audience as though they are old friends to make them feel at ease.
• and lastly, remember to always smile- especially if you are smiling on the poster advertising your play, as you don't want to be accused of false advertising.

M

How to become a part of Scottish folklore (and other musings)

As I write this, I am smiling (despite the fact that my shoes have flooded and my toes now resemble prunes). Following yesterday's tweakings, I gave the best performance of all my Edinburgh performances so far.

I'll tell you why it was the best (in my opinion). It was the best, because I had fun. I stopped thinking and worrying about all the things outside of my control (like the weather, the technical side of things and the audience numbers). I put my positive thinking hat on and I spoke from the heart. I stopped thinking and I just was.

I stood on that stage and I lived the events of my play- of my life, as if they were happening again. And every second I was beneath the bright dazzling lights that make you sweat involuntary amounts profusely, I believed in what I was saying and I savoured every moment.

Yes, it may have helped matters that at the start of the show I greeted the audience and then encouraged them to laugh, clap, whoop, sneeze or make any other involuntary (or voluntary) noises that they should so desire, as I think that this put them at ease.

And yes, I know that it's my life they're laughing/ sneezing/ whooping at, but I'm prepared to make that sacrifice in the interests of making the world a better place. See what I did there? My potential job is that of World Minister and I think I've just proved I'm a highly eligible candidate, don't you?

Anyway, back to yesterday. After some major clock-watching, I indulged in my (un)-favourite past time... that of flyering. By now, I am sure that most of you already know I am frightfully bad at this task. Unfortunately, I cannot give you any new information to counter this fact (though I would- obviously, very much like to). Before long, I suspect that my appalling flyering skills will become the stuff of Edinburgh folklore.

Yes, we have a very old castle. Yes, we have a royal road that appeases any male royals globally; that's right, I mean Prince's Street. And yes, we have a regular stretch of road ( a long hill in actual fact, that Mildred has to walk up on a daily basis...) that we have tried to make sound superior to the rest of it's cobbled peers by naming it The Royal Mile. But have you heard about our most recent acquisition? A young lady that goes by the name of Mildred. She can be seen  attempting to flyer our regal streets, brandishing images of herself sat on top of the world. See her at 3pm daily, before we revisit the canon shed at the castle.

I hazard a guess, that before long, I will be on a par with the above.

Now, the final question is: have I learnt anything new since yesterday? The answer is yes. I have learnt that:

• rucksacks may well be coming back into fashion as they are practical, cool and retro. (Or at least that's what I tell myself, every time I slip into my black and silver number).
• it is always sensible to Febreze* your stage costume and then leave it to air.
• it is not sensible to Febreze your stage costume and then immediately roll it up and pack it into your rucksack. This is because, when you come to wear it later in the evening, you will feel as though you have been for a very long run before your show has already started. Chilly underarms do nothing to help the pre-stage nerves, I can tell you.

Anyhoo, I hope that you are all well.

Best wishes,
Mildred

* For those of you unfamiliar with Febreze, it is basically an air freshener for clothes in a squirty bottle. It is a cheats option to washing your clothes in the washing machine. Whilst in the city, I must cheat as I do not have a washing machine.

My latest escapades from Edinburgh

I am confused. Is today really Tuesday? What I am fast discovering is that life here at the Fringe must be lived through a veil of incomprehension to enable all the days to blur together, and thus, become one giant day. I could be writing to you on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday- any number of days. I mean, I'm fairly certain that today is a Tuesday... hey-ho, I've got a one in seven chance of being right, so I think I'll go with my instincts and say that yes, today is Tuesday.

Yesterday I performed my play after making a few tweaks. I am pleased to report that all went well- there was even a bit of tittering from the audience... result! I learnt a fabulous quote this week from the delectable Lynn Ruth Miller, who said: 'remember to laugh, because you can't hear a smile'. I am inclined to tell every living soul I meet to bear this in mind, as it would- really, make life that much easier. But I haven't told every living soul that I've met, because most of them I don't know, so they might perceive that as being a tad rude. Ah, well, the Fringe is still in it's early days. Just wait until next week, and perhaps I'll be telling you a different story!

After my play, I went to see a hoot of a show by Kev Orkian called Kev Orkian: The Guilty Pianist. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed a bit more- he is a very talented man, both as a performer and a person.

Later, I went out to dinner with Dave. Despite being rather ravenous, when the nosh did arrive, I could only manage half (sometimes even I don't understand how my body works- if it's a mystery unto you it is a mega-mystery unto myself). So, Dave asked for a 'doggy bag'- in other words, a strip of tin foil with your left-overs, usually for your own consumption and not animal-kind's. Anyway, the waitress turned around and said that this wasn't a Scottish custom and that if we wanted our remnants, we should really be in America as it is what they (apparently) do. Suffice to say, we were stunned. I mean, we're by no means connoisseurs of the restaurant trade, but- as a former waitress, I had never before heard such a load of gumpf before.

Do forgive me for the shortness of this blog- Dave and I have got to hit the Royal Mile and indulge in some more of our least favourite past-time: flyering. (In case you wondering, we still haven't improved that much since I last told you how rubbish we were. However, we have invested in large boards which we are going to wear... as a heads up, boards will be the newest accessory on the catwalk. You heard it here first!).

So, since I last wrote to you, I have learnt that:

• if your audience are few and far between, you play to the invisible spectators (a piece of advice given to me by a real-life famous person who was- and is, lovely).
• my jacket- though it may not be waterproof, IS windproof- hurrah!
• my shoes- though they may not be waterproof, ARE windproof- double hurrah!
• Edinburgh exists in a parallel universe where the days are indistinguishable from each other and time has a peculiar habit of speeding up and then, slowing... right... down.
• I reiterate, this flyering malarkey is darn hard.
• finally, to always believe in the work you are doing- especially when there are so many different and diverse shows, because I truly believe that eventually, all the hard work will pay off.

So, until my next blogging session. I wish you health, happiness and a hearty breakfast in the morning (because that is what I am yearning for).

Mildred

Life since the first two shows

Friends and festival goers/ potential festival-want-to-go-but-can't-er's,
I am going to tell you about how life in Edinburgh has been since the first two shows.

So, the first show went as well as could be expected- the audience was very kind, which made life easier my end. And I have to say, that with regard to looking at the positive side of things... yes, the audience may have been small, but at least we had some bottoms on some chairs. Apparently, the opening average is just 6 people. Suffice to say, we exceeded the average... by one person. That- I am told, is a good start.

After the first show, we went to celebrate and I sampled a rather aptly named cocktail- The End of The World, which is apt because my show is called Mildred McManus for World Minister. It was a pleasant drink, but it wasn't as good as the strawberry-a-colada that I had the other night. (If you're unsure, a strawberry-a-colada is basically a pina-colada, without the pina. Instead of pineapple, it's got strawberries. So really, it was just a strawberry milkshake... with a kick (courtesy of the rum). I think, it takes an acquired taste though.

Anyway, enough about all that! After the show, we went to see another show called The Thai Lady Boys of Bangkok. To say the least, it was interesting- and very, very insightful! To my surprise, I actually enjoyed this peculiar sort of cabaret show. (It's not normally something I'd have gone to, but I... well... I suppose I'm broadening my horizons).

The Lady Boys show consisted of dancing and singing and beautiful fella's donning super spangly gowns. Although, the chap playing Marilyn Monroe looked slightly more like Marlon Monroe as he had rather long brown sideburns flanking his ears. But, he was funny enough though.

What else to say?

Well, it was actually really good fun- most of it. The part that was not so fun was when this great big hulking house of a man (who was sat to my left on a small chair) proceeded to sit on me. The worst part was, he didn't even realise that he was half on my lap and half on his chair. So Dave had to take invasive action and pull my chair back, with me glued to it. Despite moving a good half a foot or so, the house didn't even notice. In fact, in the course of the rest of the evening, he then went on to stand on my foot and then virtually blind me with an errant hand that was flying frequently through the air and dangerously close to my nasal region.

Aside from this space invader, the rest of the evening progressed nicely. I even had my first real live YMCA experience! But if truth be told, I did leave the show with my mind pondering the ever elusive question: which toilet does a lady boy use? The ladies or the gents? I do not know.

*

The next day we had our second show. Again, it went okay. It was just a shame that there weren't more people there to enjoy the experience of sharing in the life of Mildred. However, my disappointment wasn't to last too long, because later that evening I did the most perfect piece of parallel parking I have ever done in my life. (And when I say perfect- it was textbook). That- friends, made my evening because my parallel parking ability (by my own admissions), is somewhat hit and miss.

So, riding high on my parallel parking high, we went to see a fabulous show called Fabulous Divas of Hollywood starring Alan Palmer. It was very clever and very funny and I would like to wish him lots of success with his brilliant show.

Anyway, I am going to end this blog with a concise list of all that I have learnt in the past few days:

• It rains in Scotland. A lot.
• My raincoat is NOT waterproof.
• My shoes are NOT waterproof.
• My mascara IS waterproof (always good).
• Dave and I are rubbish at flyering.
• The show must always go on- to quote Freddie and the gang, regardless of the size of the audience.
• Talking IS good. (Must make a note to remind Mum of this fact every time she suggests otherwise).
• Scotland is green because of the weather.
• I am happiest when I am on the stage, making people around me happy. Long may it last.

Until the next blog, I bid you farewell. Bye!



Oh-my-goodness-me... I'm shattered and I haven't even begun performing yet!

Oh-my-goodness-me... I am totally knackered- absolutely cream-crackered, even though I've only been here a few days. The problem is, though I might be in my mid-twenties, my brain does not agree.

You see, I just can't keep up with all the young folk. I see them out and about until all hours, full of beans, whereas I start to flag by 10:30 (pm that is- I'm not that old yet, though there is still time).

I never thought I'd say this... but I yearn to be tucked up in bed by half past ten/ eleven. A good book is an optional extra, but a nice cool glass of water is a must. And yet, for these youthful beings, this is when the night begins! As I write this, I shake my head with a peculiar mixture of bewilderment and awe as there is a recurrent question that keeps appearing in my mind: how do these kids do it?

Why did this phenomenal ability to defy my body clock's natural ticking bypass me? Why can I not keep up with the youth of today, when technically, I am part of the youth of today?

I suspect that if I had something of a cooler name like 'River Dove', 'Sulpher Jones' or 'Apple Turn-Over', then of course I'd probably be able to stay up all night (and morning. You know, be a bit more hard core. I could probably even teach Kate Moss a lesson or two). Yes, that's it. I blame the parents and their placing of this burden upon me. I may once have been destined to revel until the early hours once upon a time, but my fate was sealed upon birth when it was declared that henceforth, I was to be known as Mildred- a name that can add even ten months to a baby.

My destiny was decided for me when I entered into this world. I was destined to be a mug-clutcher, as opposed to a night owl.

But for now friends, I shall bid you farewell. I am going to go and rehearse being me, in preparation of my shows opening night tomorrow. Shortly after, I am going to have some lunch (to most people, past 18:00 hours would be dinner, but not at the Fringe festival! Breakfast today was an affair that took place at half past three in the afternoon, despite being up by 9am).

Anyhoo, I hope that you are all well. My advice to you- whether you need it or not, is to cherish that dear friend of ours: Sir Sleep. I miss him dearly. But tonight, I'm going to make like Cinderella... (no, not find my Prince Charming). Instead, I'm going to ensure that I am tucked into bed by midnight- not a minute later.

Mildred has arrived in Edinburgh!

Friends, I write to you from across the border as I have arrived in bonny wee Scotland. I'm not really sure what I expected. Perhaps I was a little too optimistic to imagine that there may have been some sunshine, but this is- after all, Scotland. But I shall live in hope!

Yesterday morning, I lived up to the expectation of the British tourist: I sampled the delights of a traditional Scottish Breakfast. (Do we call it a Full Scottish here, as at home? Or is it just simply a Scottish brekkie? Oh, the small things that take on such importance!). But no, I was going to tell you that on my plate was haggis! There was also black pudding and a potato thingy, as well as the regular guests of a cooked breakfast. I thought it was pretty good of me to nibble on innards that I'd never nibbled before, without making any involuntary faces that may or may not suggest that the experience was less than enjoyable.  On a separate note, I can say with full conviction that I have done the touristy thing. I have sampled the Scottish delicacies. I need not sample again. I'm a girl delighted by simple things and will be sticking with corn flakes, thank you very much.

*

I've decided to keep these blogs short and sweet whilst in Edinburgh. I will try to write to you everyday- if not every other. 

I did have very good intentions- (now, they are just 'good'), as I was going to write to you on the 31st July. Unfortunately, that writing never materialised. I was running behind schedule, and then I had loads of stuff to do that was unanticipated, such as cleaning. 

But, Sunday was an interesting day for me as I had a significant revelation. Sometime in the afternoon, I realised that my friend Dave and I, were about to drive some 400 miles to Edinburgh to debut a play about my life. Yes, I have known I would be here for some months, but it never quite felt real. 

So you can understand the dauntingness of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival (where there are over 2500 shows this year!), there were various questions running through my mind I am going to share with you. Imagine today is the 31st of July and they will make sense.

• Question: What is going through my head? Answer: Millions of different musings and wonderings, all nearly colliding with each other but just narrowly missing.
• Question: Why is my mind Mildreding me? Answer: Because today (as in Sunday), is the 31st of July 2011 (which has now passed) and I have just realised I am about to embark on something rather scary!
• Question: Why is this date so significant? Answer: Because today it is MPD-Day (otherwise known as My Personal D-Day).
• Question: What does MPD-Day mean for the world? Answer: It means, friends, that the time for waiting is over. The time for venturing to the land of Scots has arrived. Yes that's right: the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is awaiting a Mildred.

Anyway, I am going to sign off now as MPD-Day has now become MPD-Week.

So, a rather excited Mildred bids you farewell with an ironic 'och aye, hullo!'. I'm thinking I'll fit right in, don't you?

My body has waged war on me when I need it most

As I write to you on an otherwise dreary British July day, I can't help but feel disappointed in myself. Why, when I most need my body to co-operate and be on top-notch form, has it decided to launch a full-blown attack on me?

As you know, I'm shorty off to debut to the world my life story- which, by the way, has suddenly become interesting. I recently applied for a job- World Minister, which- for those of you who aren't sure what that is, is basically Prime Minister of the world. Yep, it's a big under-taking I know, but I thought hey-ho, what's the worst that could happen? So I decided to apply. I mean, I'm not really politically orientated, but maybe that will work in my favour. After all, variety- as they say (whoever 'they' is), is the spice of life. I, am simply providing the bit of cinnamon that is needed to make this job interesting. Anyway, the results of this job apparently coincide with my time in Edinburgh, which is when the first World Minister will be unveiled to the world. You never know, it could be me...

I'm sorry- I do digress (as you probably know by now).

I was going to tell you that I have developed a sore throat and am in the primary stages of a cold. Unbelievable! I never get ill (touch wood), and now, when I need my body most does it decide to turn against me? I mean, I treat it well, but perhaps that's no longer enough. I just don't understand why- when my body has the option of rebelling against me for 365 days in a year, it opts to do it now, at a crucial moment. It's like, it's been dormant for months on end and suddenly gone- 'aha, let's make life interesting for Mildred- keep her on her toes.' Well thank you body, but you should be prepared, for I am armed and ready to fight back with the most sophisticated weaponry known to man- medicine.

That's right. I'm taking action. In my artillery I have:

• assorted throat sweets (all as unpleasant as each other).
• vapour rub (to steam 'it' out of my system).
• hot berry drinks (not the lemon ones- eww, gross).
• throat spray (tastes vile, but blissfully numbs the offender).
• two different cough syrups- the first, mentholated; the second, honey and lemon.
• multivitamins (because you can never be too sure).
• a pot of honey and a lemon (there were two lemons, but one ceased to be yellow, so we parted ways).
• various cold/flu tablets for the daytime and night (to ensure that battle can commence for 24 hours, not just in my waking moments).
• nasal spray- I'm new to this product. Delivers an unusual sensation, but I guess that means it's doing it's job.
• my hands- the operatives and administrators that allow this operation to run smoothly. 

Let battle be won through mentholated madness, soup, hot honey and lemon  and regular nasal dousing. I will not succumb to the battlefield, nor will I succumb to snoozing drowsily in bed with a hot water bottle. I will fight this cold valiantly until the end. But first, I think I might indulge in a nice hot bubbly bath.

And then, I launch my first wave of attack via the nasal passage, the teeth cave and some uncomfortable inhalations. This plan I confide to you in utmost secrecy. We can only hope it doesn't end up in enemy territory, lest they launch a counter attack.

As of 12 hundred hours today, Mildred v MB (Mildred's Body) has begun.

May the best Mildred win.

Gee, no one ever says how tricky writing your life story is... (except me, because I'm saying it now).

Hello there friends!

Apologies for my detainment. I have been- as you know, attempting to write my life story. Unfortunately, my attempts are not going well.

So, I've made a tactical evaluation and decided that a change of course is in order. No longer will 'The Life of Mildred, as lived by Mildred, as told by Mildred' be published in book form. No longer will 'The Life of Mildred, as lived by Mildred, as told by Mildred' be published in downloadable form. No longer will 'The Life of Mildred, as lived by Mildred, as told by Mildred' be published at all.

No no. It was too tricky and too time consuming, having to scavenge in the depths of my memory banks for something worth writing down. Plus, it was exhausting. So I've decided to switch to another avenue, for I will not let my time spent self-analysing have been time spent in vain. Nope, not at all. Because friends, I wanted you to be the first to know my new news.

I am writing a play instead! It's based on my life and will star... me, as Mildred, the main character. Well, she's actually the only character, so it should be rather interesting. My friend Sophie- (the florist), is helping me to co-direct, which is fun. Though at times, it is slightly demoralising, having to relive the same experiences over and over again.

I mean, take what happened to me a few weeks ago. (I didn't tell you about it, because I was a little bit embarrassed, but now that I'm going to be broadcasting it to the world, I may as well tell you). Basically, I got fired from a little job that my brother Scott found for me. If truth be told, I wasn't particularly bothered about losing that job- I didn't like the boss, I didn't like the staff, I didn't like the restaurant and I most definitely didn't like the food. Doesn't take much to realise why I was fired does it?

My first job was as a waitress when I was 13. Twelve years on and I'm back where I started. I suppose, my morale was at an all time low. What with turning up at the wrong garden centre for that notoriously disastrous interview, and now this... I'm rapidly realising that despite my degrees, I am becoming unemployable.

Did I tell you why I was fired?

No, I don't think I did.

Here in lies the problem. I was fired for being too honest.

Again.

You see, it's not the first time. But the problem is, I'm just not prepared to lie (even if I am being paid to do so). And this problem is further exacerbated by having a conscience that I can't control, which means I find it almost impossible to lie (almost, but not quite).

Anyway, that's my news- I am Mildred McManus the playwright.

Having made this decision, I thought: 'let's spice things up a little', so I'm going to debut my life story at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August. Crazy, or what?!

A series of thank you's and apologies

Hello all! I'm not sure why I've greeted you with an exclamation, given that this blog is something of a confessional...


As you know, I have recently started to write my life-story, which is becoming surprisingly interesting the further back I reminisce. Until a couple of days ago, I had thought that my life was well, rather mediocre. Not today though, not today. I now think it's bordering on being slightly interesting.

Now, not that you need to know this, but having recently made the ground-breaking discovery that I can write in purple, I'm taking full advantage and doing so- as you can see. Ah, such small things that make life all the sweeter! 

But in seriousness, I realised that over the years, I may not have been entirely truthful with all my nearest and dearest. So, I would like to here offer a series of thank you's and apologies to those people who have helped make my life what it is.

• THANK YOU to Agent Grandma for selling my name to loads of other oldies who probably aren't in the least bit interested in what your granddaughter is up to and who probably have even lesser amounts of interest in reading my as yet unpublished (and rather unfinished) autobiography. Nevertheless, thanks for promoting me for free- I owe you one Gma! (Sorry I mentioned your fee- please, don't put your rates up now... I'll give you a signed free copy of my yet to reach completion novel. How's that for a deal?!). 
• THANK YOU to my good friend Sophie for being a person to aspire to- your levels of coolness far surpass my own.
• THANK YOU to Auntie Beatrice for reading my previously poor attempts at novel writing and not minding that I've (metaphorically) left you hanging on quite an important cliffhanger for quite some time now... I'm sorry, I've got major writer's block. I know it was an epic love story, but I don't know what happens when one half of the couple's been vapourised and the other frozen. Can a relationship between the two really continue? I knew I should have stuck to what I knew and not branched out into the world of sci-fi... So really, I'd also like to apologise to you Auntie Bea, given that this book is never going to end and you will forever be on a cliffhanger (metaphorically not literally). Sorry.
• THANK YOU to Pam for listening to me ramble on about goodness only knows what when you really should have been writing your essays when we were at uni. Ahh, friends. 
• THANK YOU to Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders for being an inspiration during my days at uni. You don't know me, but one day you will, so I shall look forward to our imminent meeting. 
• THANK YOU to Mr Walt Disney for your fantastic films over the years. No further explanation required.

 Now, onto all my sorries. Unsurprisingly, this list is somewhat larger...

• SORRY to all the people I have ever fallen onto when a bus has lurched around a corner in my pre-car days... 
• SORRY to any poor souls who have had to experience my cooking...
• SORRY for the time that I crashed the car into that rock Mum... I was doing the old emergency brake routine and well, that happened to be in the way... but at least it stopped the car. Plus, I was a learner, so what can you expect? (That's my story and I'm sticking by it, because I actually was a learner when said incident occurred).  
• SORRY about accidentally smoking out the lounge Dad, when you and Mum were on holiday. It was very cold and I was attempting to be a proper girl scout... unsuccessfully. I am evidently a bad work-person, because I am blaming my tools: the fire grate wouldn't do what was required of it. (Either that, or I'm a rubbish fire-lighting person, which is probably closer to the truth).
• SORRY to all the Newsagents who I have given false hope to over the years. No, I won't be buying the magazines. Yes, I will be reading them in your shop for free. Thanks!
• SORRY for all the times that I have inappropriately had the giggles and landed any of my friends in hot water- you know who you are. 
• SORRY to Mum for scaring you when I was learning to drive. 
• SORRY to all the people at Edinburgh airport on the day I arrived a couple of New Years ago, when at the top of my voice I shouted down the phone 'I'M IN SCOTLAND!', at the exact moment I went around a corner and into a silent departures lounge. 
• SORRY for all the spiders that you've thought I've removed from various locations for you Scott. Sometimes they went into my hand and out the window, other times they didn't. Of course, on those occasions I'd always say that the spider was long gone when in reality, it was probably hovering pretty close to your bed/ close to you... Sorry, really I am!
• Sorry for broadcasting your fear of spiders to everyone Scott. I promise not to reveal anymore secrets that might make you ever so slightly less cooler than you are. 
• Sorry to the Chancellor at my university graduation ceremony. I didn't mean to tread on your toe- it was nerves. Plus you  had exceedingly large feet.

So, having made peace with the world and the people I know, I can sleep easy for this evening at least. I hope that any of my past indiscretions can be overlooked and forgiven by the respective people. For now though, I bade you farewell and wish you a pleasant weekend.


Mildred