My first week at drama school

Why hello there ladies and gents, it's me- Mildred. How are we all?

Today's blog is a slight retrospective number about my first week at drama school... eek! I can't believe that it's already been a week- can you? When I was chatting with Dave on the phone the other day, I said: "... and usually I do this, but sometimes I do blah, blah, blah." To this he replied after a lengthy pause; "but darling, you've only been there three days." It's amazing how quickly we adjust to a routine.

Are you familiar with the wonderful Finding Nemo? Yes? No? Not sure? Hmmm. Well, this was me on Monday morning (much to the horror of the London commuters):

I love it- I'm just so excited to be learning again! I'm even getting used to the 12 hour days. My alarm goes off at 5:50 a.m. (a time that until last week I did not realise existed twice in one day) and I leave the house by 6:30 a.m. I am home by 7.00 p.m., but I wouldn't change it. Working in the film industry involves very long days- I'm looking at this phase in my life as one giant rehearsal.

I love, love, love my course. I get to learn about lots of technical acting things that would sound quite boring to a non-actor (different techniques, exercises etc). But I also get to learn about sword fighting. Apparently- according to my teacher, I have to work on my aggressive face. This is tricky- I'm not sure if aggressive face is in my repertoire. To help with this voyage of self-discovery, I purchased a sword (plastic and made in China- most definitely not in a blacksmiths) with my good friend Anna and we spent much of yesterday afternoon sword-fighting in between bouts of giggles as we tried to find my aggressive face.

Anyway, it's been a long week. I'm looking forward to next week. From now on I am enforcing a strict 'lights out by 10 p.m. policy', and you know what? I'm actually enjoying it. I miss Dave, but at least he's always at the end of the phone. Where oh where would be without technology? Until next week, I bid you farewell as I go to make my sandwiches for tomorrow.

 

Mildred x

 

Back to school for me

At the ripe age of 25, I suddenly find myself going back to school. If you'd have told  me this was going to be the case a couple of months ago, I would never have believed you. But it seems that fate has intervened and I am set to find myself back in the classroom as a student once more.

Home will be wherever I may be. I am going to be taking a leaf from the life of the humble snail and live with my world in a shell- well, a rucksack at least.

I have been given the opportunity to study Screen Acting for the next year- which I am greatly excited about. I'm going to learn how to be a professional actress for film and television. But I'm also going to learn loads of other stuff too. I would tell you what, but I'm not going to as I'm not even sure of everything yet. Wait one more week and I'll be able to give you more facts when I've started. I do know that 'other stuff' includes bits and bobs like screenwriting, screen combat (eek!!), martial arts and lots of behind the scenes stuff too. I'm not going to lie: one of the things I am greatly looking forward to is being able to hold that clapper board and say 'aaaannnnnd ACTION!' (completed with an elongated 'and'. It wouldn't be right otherwise).

 

Anyway, this is the part that I've been dying to tell you about. My school uniform consists of- well... nothing. Don't take that the wrong way- I'm not naked. I will be fully clothed. However, what I wear is entirely up to me. So, I have a few wardrobe staples that are sure to cement my credentials as a master geek. These include:

• proper walking boots (it's a nice morning trek to get to the train station), complete with a dark green paint splodge that I managed to bestow upon them when I was painting the shed for Dave.
• a fully functioning waterproof rucksack. I just don't know what I've been thinking all these years. I mean, there I've been fighting the need for one and yet, they have gloriously cushioned arm loops, way more space than a regular handbag and space for precious cargo such as a laptop. Dad- you've been recommending a rucksack since forever. From now on I hear you partner- I'm in your corner.  
• a waterproof coat (in white of course, so I'll always show up). It also happens to be super warm. Gone are the days of wearing a thin jacket whilst shivering with cold, reassuring anyone that asks through your chattering teeth 'of course I'm warm'.
• other miscellaneous clothing that you wear underneath your coat. I don't think I need to go into details here.

I'm taking two suitcases with me for the next two months and my rucksack. So far I've managed to pack one suitcase. Unfortunately it doesn't contain a single item of clothing. Instead it is filled with carefully selected books and therefore very heavy. I'm sure I'll get round to sorting my clothes. Eventually. 

As I've been preparing myself for this new chapter in my life, I've realised that life is a journey that is made for living. So that is exactly what I am going to do.

What not to do at a wedding (from someone that did it)

Here's some Mildred trivia for you: I have been playing the piano for over 18 years. I have also been playing the organ for 13 years and I have been attempting to sing since the day I was born. Unfortunately the attempt is not going well... so badly in fact, I may have to strike off my singing aspirations. Actually, scratch that; as of today I am retiring from singing.

This particular blog concerns the Church organ. Over the years I have played at numerous different weddings and funeral (the former of which is often far more jollier it must be said). Now, I'm not going to lie- over the years I have had some hiccups. But what can I say? That's live performance folks!

Once, I fell off the organ bench. Just once. I learnt my lesson fairly quickly.

Another time I played for a wedding at midday that went without a hitch. After the happy couple had departed as man and wife, I too departed- big mistake. Three quarters of an hour later it came as something of a surprise to say the least when I received a telephone call from the vicar to ask where I was. You see, it turned out that I was due to play for a second wedding. Everyone seemed to know about this wedding- the bride, the groom, their guests... just not me. So, I duly returned to an eerily quiet Church filled with tentative guests and a very anxious groom five minutes before kick off. I grabbed my music, hopped on the organ bench and hoped that things would go okay. I also said a slightly silent, panicked prayer. Luckily I was in the right place to be heard. Anyway, I got to the end of the ceremony without any problems. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. Turns out the bride was so eager to get married she'd got there fifteen minutes early (at this point I was missing in action). The vicar had to send her around the block in the car. TWICE. Glad I didn't know that until afterwards.

Then we have the time when I had the unfortunate bout of food poisoning and had to play for a funeral. Ahh, that was bad. The reserve organist happened to be a judge (you know- with the wig and everything) who was in court on that day, which meant that he couldn't be a knight in shining armour. I had to soldier on and hope and pray that my body wouldn't let me down. This was a big ask as I ideally needed to be in close proximity to a loo as nothing was staying down. I was so faint I was like a waxwork.

But the piece de resistance:

What do you do if you're given the signal to play your 'here comes the bride' number and there is no bride? Hmmm. I can tell you that you keep playing whilst hoping and praying that the bride is going to start hastening up the aisle. Any. Minute. Soon. When that doesn't happen you still have to keep going and pretend that this is what is supposed to be happening. Unfortunately, you cannot hide from a disaster such as this as the organ is not a quiet instrument. It's the woolly mammoth of the orchestra. You've just got to hope that the bride and groom have a sense of humour. Fortunately, a nod from the groom confirmed this.

As with any instrument, the organ is tricky to play- especially as you've got both hands and both feet moving simultaneously. It can go out of tune and things can happen that are completely out of your control. But in the words of the great Freddie Mercury: 'the show must go on.' Indeed it must.

Mx

Broadening my horizons... at the pub!

Monday night is 'movie night', with the exception of Monday 9th April 2012.

Monday night is 'date night with Dave', with the exception of Monday 9th April 2012.

On this particular Monday- the 9th April 2012 (not sure why I'm stating the year... we all know it's 2012 don't we?), I did something a little bit different.

I was asked to play the piano in a public free house (AKA pub to you and me). I haven't actually played in a pub before, but it was a rather interesting evening. I brought with me oodles of music, not really knowing what was expected of me. So I kind of did a bit of this and that, which was nice.

Though as I say, this was my first experience of twangy pub piano entertaining. Perhaps that showed in my outfit... may have been a tad over-dressed in my formal fitted trousers and crisp white blouse. Might have been better opting for torn jeans and flip-flops. But hey, I wanted to make a good impression. I mean, I've got the outfits down to a tee for my posh hotel gigs and church related shenanigans. Can I look elegant for a wedding? Yes. Can I do formal funeral blacks? Yes. But can I look like a surfer-dude in a pub? Don't think so. 

Am I familiar with posh hotel etiquette and music? Yes. 

Am I familiar with church etiquette and the music? By jove, yes.

Am I familiar with pub etiquette? Nope.

Nevertheless, I played for my hour and had a nice time. It was made super nice by the fact that Dave was there with me. He's my groupie! How cool is that?! I've never had a groupie before, but now I have one because I have a Dave. NICE.

Will I be playing in a pub again? No idea. But it's all good experience. It's funny, as I think that the more I hone my craft and the more I perform, the more I learn how to cater for different occasions and audiences. Likewise, it makes it even clearer to me what I would eventually like to do in life. Music, writing, performance and acting are it. I'll keep dreaming and I'll keep trying.

Mx

Why hello there, did you just clean that car?

That's right, hello. Did I just clean that lovely blue car? Why yes, I did indeed.

This weekend I decided to do something that I only do once a year. I have to wait until the weather is really good... and providing that I have nothing better to do, I make the decision to do this chore.

Spring is here, so that means that it's time to spring into action and do a spot of the ol' 'spring cleaning'. Usually, I do this begrudgingly, cleaning into the Summer over a period of months as it's too much to do everything on one day. Plus, I'm not like my Mum- I'm not that good at the cleaning as I just don't think that I'm disciplined enough (and yes Mum, if you are reading this, that is a compliment).

I woke up early yesterday morning and went for a glorious walk with Dave. As a consequence, my nose freckles have made an appearance many months earlier than usual... but I think that's a story for a different blog.

Anyway, following on from our walk, Dave popped out and I decided that because I couldn't think of anything better to do, I was going to clean the car. Starting with the inside. I couldn't handle both inside and out on the same day- the exterior had to wait until this morning.

I have to admit, it was a little bit tricky, attempting to clean the car when I couldn't find the right attachment for the hoover. It just made the experience that much more interesting... and time-consuming.

When I was satisfied with the vacuum cleaner, I graduated to the polish- something that can only be described as a very odd scientific experiment. You see- now half a can lighter, each time I sprayed the dashboard the polish just seemed to evaporate and vanish into thin air. It was as if Harry Potter were in the car, hidden under his invisibility cloak, playing a little prank. Oh Harry, what are you like?!

Having removed about a thousand receipts (perhaps an exaggeration... I suppose it was more like nine hundred and ninety nine), the car looked like a contestant on one of those before and after make-over shows- it was a shadow of it's former self. This meant, that the outside then had to match.

This morning, I went to one of those car washing places where you use the giant hose-thingy. Crumba! I pushed go and poof!, I was lucky to remain on two feet and not on the floor. There was so much pressure, which required much concentration. After many lapses, my trousers were cleaned up to the knees and my t-shirt also received a complimentary valet.

Driving off, I felt quite proud of my achievements (including remembering to close all the windows. This follows on from a previous experience. Two words: not good). I felt proud of my achievements until I got home and realised oh b*gg*r, I'd forgotten to clean under the doors. Oh well, I'd say that fact balances out the fact that I forgot to clean out the boot (or- and this sounds so much cooler: the trunk).

Happy car cleaning people, happy sunny days!

Mx

An honest opinion of my usual audience!

Hello friends! I write to you from a gloriously sunny spot in England... ahh, bliss. This blog really follows on from one I wrote just the other day- Yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert.... To be honest, I'm still a bit miffed that the fella fell asleep. But it got me thinking. And then I got analysing.

I- Mildred McManus, have come up with a comprehensive review of the type of people that I usually get in my audience at a piano recital. I'm sure that many of you will know at least one of the following people  in the categories I have given them. But if you don't know anyone who displays these traits, rest assured that one day you will!

• This sort of person I know very, very well. In fact, I know this kind of person so well, I am even related to one of them (yes Gma, that means you). Gma (Grandma) is often the main perpetrator I know and can always be sure to make her voice heard. I call Gma and her cronies: the-loud-whisperer's-that-think-they're-talking-quietly-but-not-er's.
• This one is usually guaranteed to be a good audience member, because they have made the effort to be there nice and promptly. This type of person is called: the-early-bird.
• So, if everything has an opposite, the ying to the yang of the early bird is called: the-late-comer. But sometimes, it just can't be helped.
• This is my favourite category: the-drink-obtainer-and-loo-dasher, because aren't the two interconnected? Doesn't one cause the other?
• This category drives. Me. Mad. I just wish that: the-I'm-really-bored-looking-people-but-I'm-secretly-enjoying-myself-but-don't-want-to-let-you-know-that people would do just two things. One; smile, and two; clap. This- in my experience, is the sort of person who will applaud half-heartedly throughout your recital, usually without even exercising their facial muscles into a smile. And yet, your evening will end and apparently- miraculously, somehow, you have been the highlight of their week?! 
• This has happened to me only once. One day, a woman popped along to my recital. Ten minutes in, she proceeded to open a packet of crisps (aka chips) and then spent the next twenty-three minutes eating them loudly. After she'd finished, she placed the empty wrapper in her chair and then walked out in the middle of my recital. I call her: the-food-nosher.
• Lastly, we have: the-cougher-and-part-time-sneezer. Not nice, especially if you're in a small room...

So, here ends this blog. Next time you go to a concert, keep an eye out and maybe- just maybe, you'll be presently surprised! 

Mildred x

Yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert... am I that bad?!

Quite amusing really, but I must repeat this title as yesterday, someone sat and snored throughout my concert... Please tell me: am I really that bad?!


I repeat this title as I dedicate this blog to any musicians who have ever experienced the misfortune of having someone fall asleep and then proceed to snore throughout their recital. Yesterday, this is what happened to me.

Okay, I'll admit that I'm not playing rock music or anything like that... but still, there are some concert rules of etiquette one should abide by. I'd say that the first is quite possibly also the last: simply stay awake. This is a rule that appeared to have bypassed this man who- to make life easier (as there are many men this could be), we shall call Norman.

Yesterday, my concert was fairly traditional in content. It featured some of the greats- Mozart, Beethoven, Elgar, McManus (me) and of course, Henry the Eighth. Now don't get me wrong- it wasn't boring at all. I had that audience in the palm of my hand- one moment they were laughing (which is a good thing); the next they were crying (which- in case you were unsure, is a good thing). I was in my element, entertaining them and regaling them with tales of my misfortune in between pieces (which- in case you didn't realise, is also a good thing as it makes the audience like you... I think... I hope!).

I was having a wonderful time- as were the audience. I didn't feel like I was working (that means it's going well) and I hadn't yet laddered my tights (a good sign). Life was tickety-boo.

At least it was tickety-boo until the evening was interrupted by Norman and his gigantic snort. It was a like a beacon of sound that signalled an unyielding steady rumblicious and continuous sound. I simply raised my eyebrows in surprise; but playing to an intimate audience in a hotel, I wasn't really in a position to put an end to Norman's roadwork impressions. I was simply going to leave that to one of the other guests. You know, they'd complain and he'd stop.

But to my immense surprise, nobody said anything! Either they were too polite or too embarrassed on Norman's behalf. Even his wife didn't give him a friendly prod. No no, she simply cast a sureptitious glance around the room, picked up her handbag and gave her husband one last pitying look as she crossed to the other side of the room. Then she sat down, took a sip of her drink and turned to me; "As you were dear", as if she couldn't hear a thing. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe Norman wasn't even her husband. I don't know, but what I do know is that I still had 24 and a half minutes left to fill with this lawnmower in the background.

So, following the lead of the audience, I simply ignored Norman and pretended I couldn't hear a thing. I have to admit, that was quite a feat- especially when Norman was louder than the piano. Yep, that took some professional pretending that did.

I even tried some old-school techniques... You know, playing a couple of quieter numbers to relax the audience, followed by a super-duper loud blast of loudness in the hope that this would startle Norman back into life. But no, not a peep. I'm telling you now, this man was sleeping like it was going out of fashion. He was snoozing like his life depended on it, but more than anything, he was making me look bad... Thanks Norm.

Anyway, anyway, anyway, as any musician will know, the golden rule of performance is to just keep going (though I'm sure that's also the general rule of life). So I kept going until the end, when my finale was met with rapturous applause. As the audience were leaving, I went through the obligatory chit-chat that usually follows a performance, often complete with several bonus handshakes. This is the moment of total irony- wait for it... Norman came up to me and proceeded to tell me what a wonderful time he'd had- how much he'd enjoyed the music and blah blah blah. Then he shook my hand and gave it a rather cheeky squeeze, before thanking me for giving him the best nights sleep he'd had in a fortnight. Then he walked off. Thank you Norman.

I don't think I have anything else left to say. Once again, Norman has left me speechless.

Mildred x

PS If you are a musician and this happens to you, don't worry. Apparently it's a compliment...

I have a dream... Sort of.

In the words of the legendary Martin Luther King and the even more legendary ABBA, 'I have a dream'. Yes ladies and gents, I indeed have a dream.

It has come to my attention, that now we are in the month of March- which, in case you didn't know, means that we are officially approximately 8.3 % of the way through the year of 2012. (Please don't ask how I reached that figure... it took a lot of time and patience... the story to finding this figure is deeply boring... but also deeply concerning. 8.3 % is almost 10 %. Did you know that?! I'm sure you did).

I find it alarming to already be in 2012's third month. I am now just 29 days away from my birthday and I'm starting to become a little bit concerned with what I've managed to achieve since my last birthday. (On a separate note- Mum, I haven't decided what I would like for my birthday. Thank you for asking me on a weekly basis since the 10th January. Unfortunately, you're persistent questioning hasn't sped up the pondering process. I'm sure I'll have decided something the night before D-day. If I haven't... well, we'll get to that later).

Anyway, anyway, anyway. As I was saying. Last year I wrote a blog about pre-birthday analysing (Why oh why do I find myself (year after year), doing the obligatory what've-I-achieved-in-the-previous-year birthday analysis?). Specifically, I wrote this blog on birthday eve- which, with hindsight, may not have been my best decision. However, I'm not going to dwell on it now as I still have a couple of weeks to (attempt) to achieve some of the goals I set for myself. Doubtless to say- I shall be reviewing this shortly.

Earlier, I mentioned that I have a dream. Just like Martin Luther King and ABBA, I too have a dream. But I have decided- now that we are in March, that I need to do more to enable me to achieve this dream. It's funny, but my dream actually stems from one of my New Year's Resolutions. I resolved that I would try to make other people around me happy. To achieve this, I will use various different means including writing this very blog, performing music, teaching, acting, entertaining and just being honest.

By now you'll all know that I write, but my problem is that I'm not very good at concentrating on just one thing and sticking with that. I'm more of a... what's the word? Hmmm... Not procrastinator, because I do do things. No no... I'd say I'm more of a... flitter. Yes, that's it: I'm one of life's flitterer's. Meaning I flit from one thing to the next and back again. I do finish things... eventually.

However, at the moment I am doing something pro-active towards achieving my dreams. Currently, I am sending demo CD's of my music to the record companies. It's a long and slow process, but maybe- just maybe, the right person is out there. I'll keep trying. In the meantime, while I'm waiting, I'll flit to something else. I don't suppose it's easy, trying to create a voice for yourself. But I'm sure that with patience, dedication and hard-work MLK and ABBA's hard work would have paid off.

We're now in March, so I have now resolved to work harder and to stop procrastinating (which I do so well). I'll play the waiting game, but I won't stop dreaming.

Mildred x

PS If you'd like a listen to a couple of examples of my work, they can be found here: Two of my compositions. I should tell you now- to avoid confusion, that I perform and write under the name of 'Francesca Cox'. She's my alter ego!

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. 

The tale of the engagement that never was, one woman's lifetime ban in the kitchen and goodness only knows what else...

Hello once again dear friends!

Are you sitting comfortably? You see, I have much to tell you. Try as I might not to ramble, I can’t omit too much from what I need to tell you without leaving out the story, otherwise my blog would read:

Hello once again dear friends!

…..

The end.

I think you’ll all agree, that doesn’t make for interesting reading in the slightest. So, it is with that, that I have concluded that a little bit of waffle receives the thumbs up.

Having established that, I shall now begin.

In this blog I’m going to bring you up to speed with my life as it stands at the moment (or rather, as it sits at the moment as I am currently sat writing to you, not stood up). Since I last wrote to you (not including yesterday), the following has happened:

·        I have finished my stint as a builder with- thank goodness, all ten fingers and toes still in situ.

·        I have taken up employment at my brother Scott’s garage temporarily until they can find a suitable candidate to fill the void vacancy. Their last receptionist abandoned the car trade in favour of sunnier climes: the lorry world. So I was brought in at the last minute, having earned my wings or stripes (or whatever it is that you earn) as a consequence of driving to Scotland and back in a Ford Ka. Apparently, that’s a right-of-passage into the car world, which I thought was rather cool- because, I’ll be honest- I have never once been described as cool… until now! Although, that could just have been Scott making things up… Hey-ho: I’m cool!

·        I have recently started dating my best friend Dave (who I’ve known for what feels like a zillion years). I am very happy. This follows on from our great Scottish adventure. He wrote me a poem you see. Some people might describe it as romantic, others less so. It’s quite sweet, so I’ll stick it at the end of my blog for you to read (in case you’re interested that is).

·        I have recently been engaged to Dave for all of ten minutes, courtesy of Scott. Thank you brother dearest (note the sarcasm if you’re reading, Scott!).

      We were attending Mum and Dad’s annual Christmas Jumper Party, when this startling revelation was made. Dave was talking with Grandma- or rather, Dave was listening to Grandma talking- as so often is the case. Meanwhile, I was chatting with Scott and the other guys from the garage- Harry, Lance and Louis when Scott unexpectedly announced that they were looking forward to hearing news of mine and Dave’s engagement. I was totally baffled and asked him how much beer he’d consumed.

      Ignoring me, he says: “come on Mils, everyone knows that Dave’s going to pop the question on Christmas day. It’s just so obvious. I mean, like I’ve just said- everyone knows.” I looked at him and the guys then slowly raised just one eyebrow. “Who’s everyone?” I asked, to which he replied: “oh, you know… me” [sip of drink] “the lads” [slightly larger sip of drink] “mother” [finished drink off]. I smiled serenely and walked over to Mum who was chatting with Julia (my godmother) and proceeded to explain that there would be no wedding as there was no engagement.

      Momentarily, Mum acted as though I were talking gibberish before casting a scathing look at Scott. “What?!” he said, “I couldn’t help it Mum- I’m just so excited my baby sister’s getting married!” At this, various stander-abouter’s start to congratulate me and Dave- with the exception of Dad. Dad takes poor bewildered Dave aside and asks why he hadn’t asked my father’s permission to marry me, considering he’d asked my father’s permission to help cook Christmas dinner. Before Dave could explain, Dad started going on about priorities and stuff- all the while, I’m being congratulated at being ‘off the shelf at last’…

      Eventually, Scott had to stand on a chair and announce that our engagement was a non-engagement. This meant that the congratulations quickly turned to commiserations from everyone except Grandma. This- dear friends, is how rumours start!

·        I have- since Christmas, acquired a major aversion to stuffing. No other food- just stuffing. I can no longer eat it.

·        I have not had my lifetime ban in the kitchen lifted this year. Dad kindly explained that: “it’s called a lifetime ban Mildred, because it lasts for life.” I asked him if he and the jury (better known as Mum and Dad) would reconsider. I received a very short answer: “no.” Honestly, you make one mistake and everyone forever holds it against you.

     

      Did I mean to set the turkey on fire? No.

      

      Did I intend for what became a ‘turkey-fireball’ to fall out of its tray and burn a hole into the kitchen lino? No.

      Did I apologise? Yes, profusely… though I don’t think it was accepted as I began my apology with the classic ‘it’s not fault, but…’ opener. That- ladies and gentlemen, was six years ago now and the jury just will not relent and reconsider my punishment, but at least they can laugh about it now. It’s a story that has gone down as McManus folklore and will one day become the stuff of legends (at least the way I tell it will).    

·         I spent New Year’s Eve with a bunch of strangers- three of which trod on my foot and one managed to wallop my shoulder with a bit of flamboyant dancing. Of course, aside from the strangers that made up 99% of the venue, I celebrated the start of 2012 with four renditions of Auld Lang’s Syne (honestly DJ, what went wrong?), with the boyfriend Dave, his brother Chris and Chris’s girlfriend Stephanie. All in all, jolly good fun.

      So, this takes us right up until the present moment where I am currently attempting to stick to my New Year's resolutions. I look forward to catching up with you this year and leave you today with my charming poem from Dave:

Dave’s poem for Mildred

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? I miss her, my bright purple lid. Neither one of us are any longer a kid, which is just as well as we’re not baby goats.

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? Ever since I saw you in August in your wet-weather gear, I was as smitten as a kitten. So won’t you let me be your Dave?

Oh Mildred, Mildred, where is my Mildred? Say yes to a date or three, as I’d really like to take you for tea. In the words of Mark Darcy to Bridget, ‘I like you just as you are.’

Mildred, I like you just as you are, however near or far. You’re my best friend, but for now I’ve reached the end. I’ll be your 'Davdred' to your 'Mildred', so let’s write our own story from the beginning.

The end (for real this time).

Until next time,

Mildred x 

Introducing... Miss Mildred The Decorating- Builder

Hello everyone,

I am writing to you in the hope that you are well.

I am also writing to you with what I would describe as 'rather good news', as I have now found some employment.

Following my employing (as it were)- of Dave in Edinburgh, he has decided to return the favour and employ me. You see, by day, Dave is a builder/ renovator/ property maestro extraordinaire. By night, he is just Dave now. But he used to be my co-director and all round general assistant for Edinburgh.

Anyway, I am now in the employment of Dave at the house that he is renovating, in the capacity of 'decorating-builder'.

So far, I have clearance for the following (meaning I am now qualified in):

• electric drill usage
• regular drill usage
• hammer usage (despite missing the nail four times in a row and denting the wall...)
• electric sandpaper-tool-thingy (despite accidentally sanding myself...)
• the art of the paint brush
• the art of the roller
• ladder climbing (despite knocking the paint pot off with my foot on my descent. Luckily the lid was on. Dave does not know... Dave doesn't need to know... sshhhh!)
• filling holes with filler
• various other cool sounding things... but unfortunately I have forgotten what they are. What I can remember though, is that the insurance didn't cover me for saw usage. And to be honest, that's a bit of a relief as I'm really quite fond of all ten of my fingers.

To my general surprise, I am actually quite enjoying working on 'the site'- as 'the lads' call it, because there are no other women around. I left today, covered in dust and looking as though I'd aged forty years in an afternoon. But I don't mind. It's like dressing up! Except, not quite as clean. Although, I find it extraordinary how one minute I can look so old and grey and withered, and the next- with a little bit of nature's assistance- their finest water no less, I can wash away the grey and voila! Twenty-something Mildred is back in an instant. If only life were that simple.

Anyway, I'm going to go and wash the dust, spiders and goodness only knows what else out of my hair. Hopefully, next time I write to you I'll still have the correct amount of fingers and thumbs. But for now, my digits and I bid you farewell.

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