You've got a friend in me

I have often wondered what is the secret to a long lasting friendship.

As much as I would like to be able to give you some perils of wisdom. No, that's not right- perils of wisdom must be quite frightful. Let's try again. As much as I would like to be able to give you some pearls of wisdom, I'm not sure what to say.

There are some things shared between friends that bond you for life. Just ask Dave about the food poisoning incident. That wasn't a pretty sight, trust me. And yet, it is a glorious memory that we both can share (though it's not shared very often. We've got to be scrapping the barrel a bit with that memory).

I am fortunate to have met many people- both good and not so good. I am also fortunate to be able to say that the good people I have met have gone on to be the most wonderful friends I could ask for.

Two such wonderful people have taught me the meaning of true friendship. With them I have shared laughter and tears, tears of laughter and genuine tears (not necessarily in that order). I have dreamt with them as they have with me. Together we have shared heartache and helped each other through. These friends are not just friends for Christmas: these girls are my friends for life. I am blessed to be able to call myself their friend and privileged to know them. You girls know exactly who you are, but if you don't these snippets should jog your memories:

• Remember the time when we spent the afternoon pretending to be animals as part of my drama development for my degree? Kangaroo's have never since been as interesting.
• How about the time when we were so bored that we decided to stage the world's most awful fashion show? Think Absolutely Fabulous!
• Or what about the speed dating extravaganza? Totally unforgettable with my partner in crime.

• Remember the time we went out and ordered Pina Colada cocktails, only to find out at the end of the evening when we were super tipsy that we'd been drinking alcohol free ones all night? Swines!
• How about the times we spent in a certain coffee house, making one chilled drink last as long as four hours as we sat writing in the corner, laughing so much we should probably have been seated on the floor for health and safety reasons?
• Or what about the time we stayed in the hotel with no window and the stinky sewage loo?

These are the memories that make a friendship. Fifty years down the line, when we're old and grey, I know I'll be saying to these girls: thank you for the good times. Now how about a nice blue rinse?

I dedicate this blog to you.

Mildred 

A blog full of If-ism's.

Yep, that's right. This is a blog that is full of if-ism's.

It's been a while since I last wrote to you all, so I hope that this is a welcome return. I hope that you are all well and have been keeping busy! I certainly have. Since I last wrote to you, the thing that's kept me most busy is this malarkey that we call thinking. I greatly enjoy this past-time it must be said.

Although, to some people thinking can easily be mistaken as:
a). day-dreaming
b). pondering
c). musings, or
d). the worst one of all (or the best one- depending on which view you take): procrastinating.

Anyway, anyway, anyway. I have been killing time lately by over-indulging in the world of thought. One day I stumbled into uncharted thinking territory and began wondering if life would be a little more interesting if we were a little bit more honest.

For example. The other day, I had spare ribs and a rosti-esque concoction for dinner. However, if you asked me what I honestly had for dinner, spare ribs and a rosti-esque concoction becomes: goop covered ribcage with a side dish of vegetables that have been left to fester in their own juices before being stuck back together. Hungry now? I think not.

I then started thinking about loads of other dishes and came to one startling conclusion: if you start being a little bit too honest about your food, you're well on your way to becoming a vegetarian as- soon enough the honesty will spin your appetite.

In the spirit of being honest, I have to say that I don't really fancy becoming a vegetarian. It's not the bacon that I'd miss and it's not the beef with Yorkshire puds. No, it's a bit more simple than that. I couldn't become a vegetarian because I just love jelly babies a little bit too much- that's the gospel truth. I am a jelly baby-a-holic.

On that note, I think that I have answered my own question. Would it be better if we were all that much more truthful?

The honest answer is no. Sometimes we just need a little bit of gloss and glitter to make life that much more sweeter and palatable.

Until next time,
Mildred

Did anyone mention that there is snow?

Hello people of the world,

It's only me.

As I sit and write this to you, I am staring onto a snow covered lawn that's twinkling in the afternoon sunshine and making diamonds sparkle before me. Birds twitter but the trees remain silent and still, weighed down from their snowy loads. A fire rages in our little cottage at home, making me feel warm as I sip a mug of creamy hot chocolate whilst Dave chatters away in the background.

Doesn't that just sound idyllic? Perfect? Heavenly?

Yes, it does, doesn't it.

Unfortunately, it's not real. I thought I'd use a little bit of artistic license to draw you in.

Instead, as I write to you I am indeed staring across a snow covered lawn. However, I can't hear the birds (yet that didn't stop the blighters at 6:30 a.m. this very morning), Dave is not here and nor is the sun shining. I don't have a log fire roaring away (I don't have clearance to make such a thing. My last effort resulted in soot falling into the house and not out and was so pitiful it wouldn't light for longer than 30 seconds). Instead I am revisiting my student memories and have wrapped myself up in the following layers:

• underwear (obviously)
• tights (purple- if you're wondering)
• two pairs of socks
• jeans
• slippers (that look like they've been designed for elves)
• one vest top
• one long-sleeved t-shirt
• one hoodie (and yes, the hood is up)
• one extremely long and woolly scarf
• one big fluffy dressing gown

And before you ask: yes, I am still cold. I'm probably not helping matters with a cold beverage (think Mildred, think). 

What keeps me at the computer is the need to keep writing. I need to publicise my book An Ordinary Girl in an Extraordinary World which- as you know, was published this week. I'm still riding high on that excitement as unfortunately, January is shaping into it's usual self: an anti-Mildred month.

January and I have never seen eye to eye and probably never will. I don't always honour the January tradition of making new year's resolutions- sometimes I do, but not always. I don't go out and join a gym in January and I don't suddenly achieve all that I hoped to in the previous year overnight in this one month. Instead I attempt to do a back-log list of 'Unachieved ambitions from 2012: Damage Limitation Measures'. Trust me- this is not a wise thing to do.

Anyway, as I can no longer feel the tips of my fingers I am going to bid you farewell and write to you again on a slightly warmer afternoon.

Wherever you may be, drink plenty of hot chocolate and wear ample amounts of socks.

Mx 

I'm back with a vengence!

Hello world,

My apologies for such a prolonged absence. However, I have been keeping myself busy and today- yes today, I've had my first novel published. It's about me (obviously) and it's called An Ordinary Girl in an Extraordinary World. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited... I'm totally ecstatically excited!

I hope that you've all been keeping well since I last wrote to you. As belated as it seems, I need to say that I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and super New Year. Hopefully 2013 will be the start of lots of exciting ventures for us all.

In a usual departure from my regular essays, I am going to keep this blog short and sweet.

Oodles of excited love,
Mildred x

PS. This is the important bit- I almost forgot! An Ordinary Girl in an Extraordinary World

Hello from another time zone!

As you read this, I should be in sunny Cyprus with the delightful Dave.

I can't really give you much to go on at the moment, as I'm writing this in advance. But what can I say? Thanks to the magic of computers, you can still read this blog. Genius!

It's taken about 12 hours to actually get to our hotel.You know, from leaving home to arriving. But I don't mind- the fun is about to begin!

Hopefully I've packed the right sort of things. Last time I went to Scotland in August, I packed summery clothes and shoes- by which I mean flip-flops and pumps. Nothing at all that I had with me was waterproof... which proved to be a very foolish move... as it rained every single day... for three weeks. Really hoping that isn't going to happen!

This time-travel malarkey is really quite extraordinary. Dave and I are now an hour ahead of Mum and Dad back at home, which is weird. But not as weird as when I had a friend who stayed in New Zealand. My friend- Toby, lived out there for a few months, but his today was our tomorrow. And his yesterday was our today. They are 13 hours ahead, but still, isn't that just totally bizarre?

Anyhoo, I am hoping that you are all well. I'll be in touch very soon. In the meantime, I'm off to test out my flippers with the fish.

Mildred x

Less than 24 hours to go and I'm yet to start packing...

You know, I really think that I might have my priorities a little bit wrong.

You see, as I write this, I have just realised that I am actually supposed to be going on holiday in just 17 hours. By the time this is posted, it will be even sooner. 

But as per usual, I have not packed a thing. Not a sausage. Nada. Ne rien. Nothing. 

I do not appear to have learnt from any mistakes in the past, because if I did, I would already be packed and ready to go. 

Perhaps my priorities aren't what they're supposed to be. I mean, a sensible person would probably do their holiday packing before writing their blog. Maybe I'm just not sensible after all. I don't know. But if I'm not sensible, then that definitely makes Dave even less so. He hasn't even opened his suitcase yet- it's still in its wrapper. At least mine is ready and optimistically waiting. 

I suppose I really should go pack. After all, it's T minus 17 hours until departure. Before I do, I feel I should just leave a note for my Mum... you know... to explain why I'm so bad at packing. I think I'm just too excited!

Note for Mum:

Mum, I know that reading this must be a little bit disappointing for you. I mean, you've trained me well over the years. It's not your fault that I seem to have an innate ability to pack anything over 24 hours before I'm due to go away. What can I say? I've done all my laundry and all my ironing- so far so good; and I've even got my suitcase out. Well, I say out- I bought it from the shop two weeks ago and it never got put away. It's just patiently waiting to fulfil it's suitcasely duty in life. I guess all I can really say is, I'm truly Dad's daughter and I think that I've inherited his non-packing abilities. Yep, that's got to be it- it's genetic, so don't worry!).

Anyway, I'm going to go. I really can't put this off any longer. 

Mildred the Cyprus-bound adventurer is flying off... now where is my toothbrush?

x

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