Love this!

Love this!

This is one of my best discoveries this week…such a good blog, check it out!!

 

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Once upon a time….

Once upon a time a girl lived in a magical place they all called Internet.The girl was intrigued by this magical place, it was after all a land of plenty, information and many new and old friends in one place.
This new land was scary at first, the girl was young, uninformed and was haunted by many strangers.
As the girl grew older, she learned about this land and adapted to the many things it brought with it.
One day, the girl discovered along with the rest of the land the newest addition…a place they called Facebook.
Facebook was a lot of fun for the girl and her friends, many new friends were made,games played, parties arranged, all was harmonious.
But the girl was soon to discover that it was a place where nobody held back.She saw things she didn’t want to see, hurtful things that once loyal people had placed upon their pages without a care or a thought for her own mind and heart. The girl was hurt by this because those people should have known better…

But she could change nothing. The heart and soul are strong after all, and they do recover…and after all, if the girl never experienced anything, where would her stories come from?

Happy 2012!

Hello new year, i can’t say i’m ready for you, but what can you do? My last month of 2011 was a bit of a bitch, i can’t lie, i didn’t enjoy it and i wish it all could have been different.
So what do you do when 2012 is already feeling like a bit of a struggle? Well, reading has always made me feel better…i need to get back on the exercise bandwagon along with those who have decided gym memberships are only for new year and not for life and maybe a glass of wine of two of course…
In 2012 i am hoping for new things, new experiences, hopefully new career moves…who knows what’s coming..but i don’t particularly want to sit on my ass and wait for it all to go even more wrong….

More inspiration

But of a slightly different kind this time…
I came across this on Twitter, a wonderful website called Post Pals. It’s designed to allow children with terminal and not so terminal illness’ to receive cards and presents from people to help put a smile on their faces. It’s so inspirational (and i got a bit teary) everyone should have a look..you don’t have to donate a thing if you don’t want to, just….take a look, and remember those beautiful little faces who just want life without problems.
The other thing today is Alice P. She’s 15, she has cancer that seems to be beating her (her own admission) but she is so strong, and the next time you have a problem or you’re moaning about having to do things, think of Alice and her list of things she wants to do so badly…some she knows she can’t, but others can be accomplished.
all links are at the bottom of this post so you can have a look and be inspired by these amazing kids and teens.
Great Ormond Street does incredible things for kids, as do many other organisations that have a heart usually bigger than their bank balance….

Links: Alice’s Blog: http://alicepyne.blogspot.com/

Post pals: http://www.postpals.co.uk

Who says magazines aren’t inspirational?

I was just making my way through a magazine and i remembered while reading a bit about Istanbul that i witnessed the call to prayer while we were in Morrocco. It was amazing, all the men pulled out prayer mats inside their market shops or in the street itself. I have to admit, idiot here took a second to realise what was going on, wondering why the tower in the market was so loud and chanting and then the kneeling and praying commenced, while we idiotic foreigners wandered around..vaguely wondering when the market stalls would open again (we were reassured by a man who wasn’t praying that 20 mins should do it) and staring in awe at the site of so many praying in one place. I wish i’d thought to take a picture,but we felt like such intruders anyway i think a picture might have been going too far!

I am also enamoured by the idea of starting a website of crafts and bits and pieces to sell…however, i suck with glue and glitter!!! so i’ve come to the conclusion i should be site leader…or….something…hah!

ooops

Well, it’s been a while since i got my arse in gear and actually wrote on this…i’m one of those people who loves the idea of a blog, reads blogs like they’re going out of fashion but have a hell of a job actually keeping up with one! But i am a good facebook updater, so i figure if i just go with what i write there then i should be able to keep up with myself!
I’m sat in Santorini,Greece, in a cafe called Vithos that does fantastic cheap food and drink and has great internet connection. It s back a bit, where the cars can drive around but it’s worth the walk .My friend and I decided against the donkey’s up the hill because it’s been wet and when they slip, it’s terrifying. I’d like to note that i’m not a bit advocate of the donkeys and the way they’re treated,but i’d rather it was me riding them, feeding them the whole way up, giving them a bit of love than some stupid fat idiot kicking them and treating them no better than their horrid owners.
Have been waiting for the lovely Brazillian to come online but it doesn’t look like he will. For those who don’t know, Brazillian is a lovely boy i met onboard who resembles a book hero complete with drama and brooding…trust me, in real life, that gets exhausting, but he’s on a different ship to me now so internet and phone it is…
Since my last post we’ve been back to Casablanca and have conquered South America! Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay have now been added to the *done* list and it’s such an incredible experience, if you get a chance to do a South American adventure, i recommend it, especially Rio De Janeiro including the Christ, Sugarloaf and it’s markets and Carnaval of course! Will put some pictures up when i get a chance with some more explanations on various South america,but my computer battery is dying…welcome back to the blog!

Casablanca days and nights…

Had to have a little blog from morocco, it’s fab, we’ve had an amazing day! turkish spas (complete with nakedness…well, with pants, but hell, forget prudish, it’s the culture and we feel scrubbed and amazing!)
Food thats authentic and markets…if you’re a pirate dvd lover, these markets are for you, also if you love bits and bobs…please just watch your bags…please…

here’s a couple of images from Casablanca…No pics of the market at the small children who try to sell you temporary tattoo also rifle through your bags at the same time so no piccies of there as i didn’t dare take my camera from the bag!

Spa is amazing, if you go to Casablanca, go to Le Pascha, as long as you don’t mind hanging around a turkish bath rather naked,you’re good to go! (we’re dancers and singers, so used to being naked backstage!)

Resturant was fab, great food, would recommend the lamb in any form!

Thoughts on a foggy night (A pre-November post)

My hairs smells like a small Italian town,it smells like the bonfire in the distance and the fog that has trying to get us since early evening. I love smelling like outdoors,im a very scent orientated person.But i wont smell like then when im onboard.Thats one of the things you miss when you embark.Smelling like real land.Before i left i remember standing outside the back of conservatory and just inhaling the scent of everything.I think english trees have very particular smell,they smell green and damp and familiar.I get a similar feeling when i have been riding the back of a motor cycle.My hair smells like the fumes mixed with the wind,Its one of my favourite smells.
But for now i will go to bed content that i can still smell the real world just before i go to live on a ship that has no natural scents,just its own unique make believe ones.

(This was written back in Sept but it’s all still true so i have published it 🙂 )

Life as i know it….Part One

I looked down at myself last night and found myself wearing blue sequins.
I had changed my clothes around 11 times already and there I was,cowboy hat atop my blond, GHD curled head and Irish shoes strapped to my burning shins.

Nope.Not the newest bad beginning of a wannabe writers manuscript.That would be my life.

I have been asked many times what backstage looks like, entails and all that, and I admit I have been meaning to tell them. But the trouble with that is that if I do tell them,then the glamour and mystique is gone,lost forever.

I don’t care.

It’s not that I intentionally want to give away the magicians secrets,I merely think it’s more interesting (and often amusing) than people realise….but in a whole other way.
I love my job.Fact.No matter how much I moan about it, complain about the utter destruction of my body and swear blind another career is definately the way forward,because hell, I could work in a soup kitchen and still earn more money, I love it. I don’t think I could adequately describe the feeling I get when that last step has been completed and the audience goes wild. Granted, the *go wild * description is more from the US audiences,the Brits as usual being the more demure (demure my ass) set, but yes, clap heartily and occasionally whoop. It is my opinion that any performer at any stage in their game who doesn’t get any feeling from that moment is either stupid,doesn’t really have the passion or should just go home now and stop wasting their time and mine.

I’ll start my dishing with a wee rundown of costume malarky. Let us also begin with the knowledge that backstage is a very dark place and a dancer learns to do up poppers,hooks and eyes and anything else by touch and the vague outline of it plus the knowledge of where the fastening should be.

I say SHOULD be.

Our newer opening is a less spectacular effect yet still requires 2 changes within one number, trousers into sequined dresses.Yes! the class! the glitz! the ragamuffin boy look that just doesn’t cut it on the skinniest member of your cast and that one cast member who is adamant her hair won’t go under that cap.
Folowed by the newer skippy number, the soft shoe, the one with only the one dress but the dance with that one bloody lift in that if it goes wrong, you can’t get yourself out of it delicately, you kind of dangle off the boy’s back like a splayed cabbage,smiling and pretending that was what you meant to do. It’s a moment. I saw the shadow of my curls bouncing as it went wrong last night.Special that moment.
Then comes the Scottish number.I don’t know who’s plaid that is,but I know their ancestors would most likely put a broadsword through me if they could see my highland fling.
Into the Spanish is a semi quick change but until this moment we’ve managed to get away with black tights only,now it’s time for beige legs.The Spanish is also a costume that has 3 parts plus hair-wear…if that rose comes off it’s moorings,your hair ain’t goin’ nowhere.
Now, some girls under-dress said beige tights and whip the black ones off at this moment. I’m not one of these girls, I add the tights.So yes,double tights for me and 3 inch heels that I will now desperately try not to get stuck in the bottom of my flamenco skirt the whole number.
The beige tights are the arsenal of the next outfit but if like me you are tiny,you will have to change twice again in the space of the next number.There’s rolling around in combats that don’t let me kick my leg first, there’s knee slapping, the eventual run up the riser (the damn huge platform at the back of the stage) and the dart off to change into the prettier outfit complete with feathers. I say pretty, it sparkles, and from afar they’re quite beautiful.

I said from afar right?

These tops are a nightmare,a bikini thing and if you get one that’s not yours and you have no idea where the hooks are, better get someone to hold your feathers ready for you as you will be hooking, spinning the top,hoping it doesn’t pop again, fighting with shoes and running on,smiling fantastically like you’ve been dressed that way all night,just waiting to walk on.
When the feathers have gone missing or someone forgot to set them it’s rather hilarious.One feather where there should be 2 is a little eggy once you get to the circle to make nice feather patterns and on one occasion, we couldn’t find them at all and the belly dancing arms were just lovely if you squinted a little.
For me personally,it goes to hell from here to the end of act one. Cue the run-walk off as the boys come on and the running around to the other side of the stage,stripping clothing as you run to don the most flattering black leotard and black trouser combo known to man. Too sarcastic? You’d understand if you’d seen the trousers; Simon Cowell waists because you had little time to roll them down and lycra that rolls up.Oh yes. Sexy.
If my top won’t unhook, i’m losing time, i need every one of those 30 seconds for this one,preferably with around 5 seconds spare to peel the trousers back down to my ankles and to pull that leotard up where it should be boob wise as we’re going to be in press up position in less than 20 seconds.
This number rolls into the beginning of the end of the first act, one more change into my favourite of the sequined dresses, the black one. The running and the changing are not the issue now,the issue is now how the hell am i going to stop that burning that’s been running through my shins since Scottish aggravated them once more.
The answer to that one is that i should have remembered to take the ibruprofen earlier than i did before the show and generally man-up because the interval is indeed coming and between resetting shoes and all kinds of other bits for the second half,i can go and sit down for 2 minutes. 3 sections are coming up of Irish hard shoe that climax into the end of the first act.They’re the most amazing calorie burn and possibly the reason my shins will feel that dented for many years to come….

Like London buses…

As with everything in this life, the way thing work is a mysterious little commodity. Ah yes, I know, I can hear you thinking it now…*she has deep thoughts?!* yes, there are thoughts, some are deep, some need sweeping under the nearest carpet, but they’re there!
My newest conundrum occurred recently. Now this story is a dancer’s dream, I mean it, I am chuffed beyond words at the moment, but it doesn’t stop me wondering why the universe is constantly smacking me round the head with it’s handbag.

Let me explain…

I had the rest of this year pretty well packed out. As a dancer, it’s prudent to have as many jobs be they small or large running into each other, you know, avert the typical money crisis that comes with choosing a career in which you dress in sequins and feathers, and earn your living doing what you LOVE. Yep, I had that all sewn up this year, In my 17 years of being a professional (yes, I was doing tv and professional thingies when I was 9! yay!) that’s never happened. I even had a lovely new flat all lined up to move into London, ready to make dancing my bitch….or if she didn’t play nice,begin the prep work for career choice number 2 (The one that will follow when my body decides it really is done with me)

Now, anyone who knows me will know that I have been waiting to go back onto the cruise ships for a few years now. I suffer with my height, i’m teeny and hell, even the people with West End credits already on their cv’s aren’t being seen for auditions and turning back to the bread and butter part of the career. Cruises are an amazing way to see the world, save much dollah dollah and generally have a lovely time.
Well, cut a really not so long story short, I got the job back, but this time i’m lead singer. Yes, double the money, own cabin and perks,Singer. I am a dancer by trade but hell I belt it out with the best of them, so here I am, aged 26 finally getting a promotion (cue the little happy dance and then the terror that follows stepping out of the comfort zone)

So London had to go on hold, the job had to be turned down, which was fine as no contracts had been signed, but holy crap i’ve never turned work down before!
So yes, i’m doing the happy dance. I have a mini UK tour of the irish and then I have to become a vocalist till next April at least.

Can’t wait to pay off my car! wahoooo!!!!