What Makes Christmas?

In the past few weeks, while gearing up for the full force of the Yuletide season, I've been thinking about the things that really "make" the Christmas season for me.

Friends - I was finally able to meet up with my dear friend Marnie for our traditional dinner at Red Lobster. Nothing "traditional" about the date or location (off the QEW in Etobicoke), we just really like seafood, so I call it a tradition. We've both been busy with our shows (mine in Leamington, hers in Port Hope) and it was nice to take a litte time off and catch up on family news and state of theatre in Ontario (there's still hope!) I also caught up with my pals Will and Jenn from Toronto. Will is actually in Niagara Falls right now doing the Disney stage version of Beauty and the Beast. Jenn came to town and we both saw him rock the house with an amazing cast for an auditorium packed with school kids. If you remember the movie at all, Will played the Librarian who gives Belle her fave book in the opening number, the creepy head of the asylum that tries to lock up Belle's father, Gaston's bartender, and a dancing fork!

Seasonal Events - I went out to Niagara-on-the-Lake to check out their Santa Claus Parade with my sister Kat and her boyfriend Colin. I really fun mix of local floats and personalities promenaded down the streets of town, complete with horse-drawn carriages, costumed mascots, marching bands, and classic cars. Speaking of classic cars, my dad's friend Rick - a pleasant eccentric - has been recognized as the most frequent Rolls Royce driver in the world by a car afficionado magazine! Most Rolls owners keep theirs in storage until a big theatre date or a WASPy cotillion, but Rick drives his to the market for milk while keeping it in prisitine condition!

This is the float from my alma mater, Niagara District SS. I'm just glad that their still remains a school to actually have a float; every time I check back, NDSS is fighting for it's very existence, as the board keeps trying to find ways to shut it down and bus the kids elsewhere. Inane, if you ask me, especially when they try to calculate the amount of square footage of school building per student! As if that is a relevant ratio.

Above you can see The Man himself! I still get giddy as a child when Kringle hits the scene. Did you ever notice that different Santas evoke different feelings? Parade Santa differs from Mall Santa differs from Salvation Army Santa.Couldn't resist a phot op with my canine counterpart.

Music - The muzaak in the Days Inn in Leamington is chock full of holiday favourites. I find myself breaking into holiday humming, but I've yet to have a full-blown Carol sing, so I must get on that. Fave carols: Nat King Cole's Chestnuts Roasting, Burl Ives' Holly Jolly Christmas, Vera Lynn's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (with the slightly poignant alternate lyrics sung during WWII), and TransSiberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells. I also love a good Gospel choir version of Go Tell it on the Mountain. Pet peeve carols: Most pop covers of Carols done with too much Whitney Houston-style vocal riffing. The worst of this is Little Drummer Boy. "Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum" only works in little children choir voices, simple and clean, NOT with more slides than Six Flags.

Food - I had the Swiss Chalet Festive Special as soon as I landed, so that one's checked off! A candy cane is ONLY a candy cane in peppermint flavour; all the bubblegum and pina colada crap out there is sacrilege.

Family - Spending time at home with mom/dad/sis has been a blessing, a real soul-strengthener. The simplest of activities - shopping, cleaning, reading the paper - mean more when close to the fam.

And finally . . .

Brianne - Every single thing I've mentioned so far comes close, but just doesn't add up to having my wife around for the holiday. Our childishness and deep-seated romanticism really comes out to play this time of year, our favourite time of year. So it's not Christmas yet for me, the spirit just isn't completely there until approximately 4pm on December 23rd when wifey makes it through customs. Counting down the days . . .

Visiting the North

I spent most of last week amongst the stunning cold and marshmallowy beauty of Northern Ontario. I took a trip to visit my Dziadiu (pronounced "JA-joo"; Polish for grandfather) in Kirkland Lake. It had been many years since I'd had to chance to see him, so I jumped at the chance to travel by the Ontario Northlander train with my Uncle Richard to spend time with him. It's a long trip up, but very comfortable with amazing scenery, so it doesn't feel that long.
The train station serving Kirkland Lake is actually in the little nearby village of Swastika. Odd choice for a name, I grant you, but it's lasted for a century as of this year. It was named after the Swastika Gold Mine in 1908, nearly thirty years before it became such a symbol of National Socialism. During WWII the province tried to change the name to "Winston" after Churchill himself, but the town resisted and continues to deflect any criticisms of the name. Essentially, from their point of view, they were here first, which is quite accurate.
My time in Kirkland Lake was filled with chatting and food. Dziadiu is an immense talker, and we spent hours discussing every subject that came to his mind, from fishing to hockey. Very Canadian. His favourite topic, though, is discussing what a bunch of crooks politicians and businessmen are. Also, very Canadian. To add fuel to this fire, he's a big news watcher, and so we had CBC piping in on the Coalition and CNN following the Detroit bailout by the minute. It was pretty intense there for a while! The food was mix of simple Polish fare; soup, cold-cuts, bread and beer on the first night; fish the next; cabbage rolls to round it out. Uncle Richard actually made burgers of ground moose meat, too!

Kirkland Lake is very much the way I remember it from days as a kid. The centre of town is "The Mile of Gold" main street. Like any main street, it has the essential services of the town like banks and a pharmacy, and is strewn with storefronts, some standing the test of time, some empty and vacant. I always stop in to the Esquire Cigar corner store -- I used to but comic books as a boy when the summer got boring -- to poke around. Like a lot of corner stores I find in rural communities, they expand beyond their more urban counterparts stock of just snacks, drinks, and reading materials. It's merchandise is more ecclectic, comprising rabbit snares and antique sewing machines in the mix. The back of the place looks a bit like a mini flea market with it's range of stuff. I chuckled when I noticed they still had the EXACT same poster selection as when I was a kid -- a collection of Backstreet Boys and Spice Girls wall hangings that never sold in 15 years! They also sold these really cool hats:
Kirkland was covered in snow, and added to it several times in the four days I was there. I grinned to see the bulldozers and dump trucks removing the accumulation from the street and dumping it on the outskirts of town -- the outskirts, of course, being clearly in one's line of sight from wherever one is within town. The grin was also because I knew that Toronto would have lost it's collective mind in this kind of weather, but Kirkland doesn't bat an eyelash. I took a few shots that helped remind me of the winter's of my past.
Kirkland also has a Giant Tiger store, and for years as a kid I thought this was unique to Kirkland. I've learned since then, but I still think Kirkland's Tiger is the best anywhere. I had to laugh when I went in this time, because this Giant Tiger actually has a naughty lingerie section. Yikes. I certainly didn't go searching for this, but it is directly adjacent to the grocery aisle, so it's sort of hard to miss -- especially when they feature white-fur trimmed red nighty-and-thong ensembles for the holidays, all XXL! I'm not sure if this is because everyone in town had already taken the smaller sizes, or that the manager felt that these were a better match for their average shopper. Either way . . . yikes.

I made a point of calling Brianne's grandmother Angela while I was in Kirkland Lake, because she had spent some years living there. This I learned from the Tucker family documentary of David's, which I may very well have watched even more than several Tucker's out there!

I had to leave by Thursday of last week so as to be back in Toronto to head off to Leamington for my weekend of shows . . . phew! What the jet-setter I am. I bade a fond farewell to Dziadiu and Richard, as Richard was staying on to visit longer. I would love to come back to Kirkland in the summer -- those fish aren't going to catch themselves.

The show in Leamington continues to be a hit with the crowds that come see it. It's always a little treat living in a hotel room for the weekend to do the show. The rooms are clean and comfortable, and look into the interior of the building where the pool, waterslides, and courtyard is. The water attractions use salene rather than chlorine, much healthier and no burning sensations. I do laps every day, then lounge in the hot-tub and run lines with the cast. The courtyard has arcade games, pool tables, ping-pong, badminton, and air hockey. Every morning there's a complimentary continental breakfast. Before every show we're given a nice chicken caesar salad (no where near as good as Wendy's) and after each show we get a large take-out box of what was on the audience's buffet. What a delicious way to make a living.

I had one rather random occurence after the show weekend finished. I came back to Toronto because my sister Kat was looking at apartments, so I would meet up with her to head home to Niagara. While killing time before our rendezvous, I stopped for a coffee at a Second Cup at Spadina and Bloor. Who should I run into but a girl named Tobi from Dunrobin who Brianne and I had met on our bus trip through Ireland! The world is getting smaller by the minute.

Wandering in Whitby (the first week)

And we're off! Just like that the tour is underway. On Sunday we had one last run through and then onto the road we were, heading towards Whitby for Mondays performance. How to describe where Whitby is in relation to London...well, head towards Scotland and if you reach Scotland YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR! It is a seaside town situated almost entirely on hills. There is an old Abbey lying in ruins on the one side of the village, made even more ruinous by the bombings of WWl. We spent one late afternoon trecking up the 999 steps to see the Abbey and the view of the town from up there. The sights were spectacular and I couldn't help but being very thankful for the day of bluesky and white clouds to make my pictures look even better. Whitby is also famous for a much darker reason: in Bram Stoker's Dracula it is in the bay that the ship Demeter carrying Dracala back home was breached and it was up the stairs to the Abbey and the churchyard that Lucy ran up to see the sun set upon them. Perhaps I stood in the exact same spot that she did. In order to draw upon the tourist aspect of the story there is a little place along the seaside street named The Dracula Experience, a place where one can see 'Dracula rise from the dead' and also take a look at Christopher Lee's cloak from the films. No, I didn't go in - it wasn't open.

After our look at the Abbey we wondered into the main heart of town to look for a bite to eat, or more specifically:tea and scones. We found a place that was offering a full tea and scone experience for only three pounds twenty five - very reasonable. I thought that they were delicious, but a member of our troupe who is a self confessed 'tea and scone snob' was not happy that we were having whipped cream instead of clotted cream (Yikes!) and that the scones were not devonshire. Whatever that means...

The following morning we spent in a cafe just down the path from The Dracula Experience that offered light lunches but also...mmmm...fresh oysters. I have to say that they don't beat the ones from P.E.I, but they were quiet tasty especially with the beet-like sauce that was provided.

With the days performances done with we packed up and headed out to Barnsley. Now, for some odd reason every one that we told that we were going to Barnley made a very distinct face, so I wasn't quiet sure to expect. Admittedly there is nothing much to draw a tourist to the town: no sights or amazing features, but there was the best Bed & Breakfast we have encountered so far. It was as good as a palace. (Cheap joke: that's actually a line from the show.) The house (excuse me: Mansion!) had only been recently finished and included three of the most amazing features for a Pisces Actor 1. A heated indoor swimming pool 2. a Deep and luxurious bathtub and 3. The most amazing shower EVER - this thing had everthing - a large shower head, sauna funtion, side spray and a waterfall setting! (Dear Santa, for Christmas this year I would like...)

Upon arrival we asked if there was anywhere near and cheap to eat and we were given the following directions: Turn left onto the street that the B&B is on, turn left after the fish and chip shop and then turn right onto the main street, it will be right there. The directions seemed simple enough until we reached the turning right onto the main street and kept on walking. And walking. Past fields and woods. Hmm, what she neglected to mention was that 'it will be right there' meant ' it will be right there after 2 miles of walking'. We did however pass one of the best signs I have ever seen Eggs and Coke. Yes, we all had our own interpretations of what that meant, but for those of you with a sick sick mind it actually means Coke as a fire fuel. Could have fueled me...hehehe..I made a pun! What followed our arrival at the pub will for ever more be known as the Tequila Event. All I can say is: I was in whitby - and I apologise. (I know only Andrew will hit the floor laughing at that comment - but it was still worth it.)

A few luxurious baths and we were onto the final leg of this week's journey: Stevenage. What can I say about the B&B in Stevenage? Well, getting there certainly created a mood. We drove through a darkened forrest on a tiny pot-holed path that seemed to wander along for ages before opening onto the turning to get to the farmhouse we thought we were staying at. In actuality we were staying in the Barn. Now, before you start scoffing at that idea this was no regular barn. As we entered the main doors we came into a games room with a Snooker table, a darts board, a foosball table and a jukebox. In the room attached was an indoor pool but certainly not heated. Upstairs was the kitchen for our own use and a bathroom as well as one of the bedrooms and up in the loft was the other bedroom. It all seemed straight out of a b-rate horror film: the troupe of four actors out in the middle of nowehere, a canadian, an australian and two brits, they thought that they were out for a good time in the country barn until...TERROR STRUCK! (Sounds of screaming and shots of people running through the woods and blood being spattered against a barn door.) Coming to theatres this October: The Reaping!

Anyhoo, the shows are going well and I have today off and then it's back on the road tomorrow afternoon. It's crazy, but the kids are amazing (more about them later.)

TTFN!

I Don't Give a Dame

It appears that Andrew does not wish to make any blog entries recently - i am guessing because he might feel a bit embarassed by certain pictures that he has put up on facebook and would have to comment upon should he write about them. All I can say is that I never thought shiny gold boxers would look quite so good on my porcelain husband.

As for myself I have been rehearsing in St. Alban's for Beauty and the Beast which will be touring to schools in the London and greater London area. The first two days of rehearsal were interesting seeing as we were missing our Beast/Prince/Dame character due to an overlap of schedule. I play Belle and the Sorceress (doing double duty of placing and curing the curse), Keziah plays my sister Gertrude as well as Mrs. Bustle (a liking to the Mrs. Potts character) and Claire plays our darling father. On Monday we finally met our Prince Charming - so to speak. His name is Michael and he plays the Prince/Beast/my other sister Esmeralda - this involves alot of extremely funny costume changes backstage - one in particular involving green striped tights.

Rehearsing for a pantomime has been a big learning curve for me, so much of what is not accepted in 'normal' theatre is a staple of it. At all times my body has to be turned 75% to the audience, almost every line is spoken out towards the audience with only a marginal acknowledgement to the actual character you are speaking to. Energy has to be very high. And one thing that almost every other director would fire you over is expected here: adlibbing. Unlike any other form of theatre adlibbing is almost necessary and requested during a Panto. I have been keeping a little notebook of some of the ones so far and will write them up shortly to share with you all. There are also 'must haves' involved in a panto that every British child expects: There is always at least one dame (a man dressed as a woman) in ridiculous make-up and costume, there is always one part where the audience joins in with the cast for at least 3 "Oh, No I'm not! - Oh, Yes you are!" (I get to do the first one in the show - very funny). There has to be at least one chase scene - we have two - where the characters run off and on stage at least three times screaming out the most ridiculous things that can come to their mind - it is never scripted but frequently rehearsed. Baddies always enter audience left and goodies always enter audience right. Boos and hisses will ensue. Oh, and I almost forgot - there is always at least one character that interacts with the audience and gets them to respond. In our case the two sisters come on stage and yell out "Hello Everybody!" to which the audience is told to reply "Hello Gorgeous!"

I think thus far I love the banter between the two mean sister the most - having a boy in drag with the world's worst make-up makes everyone giggle. Oh - and the pic of me and Keziah as we are rehearsing - someone else was using my camera so I am pretty sure that that is the moment that Belle becomes homesick (yes, crocodile tears are a VALID form theatrical technique).

I shall write a bunch more once we are on the road and I hope to have a few more pics and film clips. Bye Everybody!

The Prodigal Hubby

It's difficult to sit down and write an account of where I am and what I've been doing for the past few weeks. How exactly does one begin to write a preamble explaining and justifying that one has come home to Canada earlier than anticipated because there was a great theatre opportunity offered by an old director friend? Oh . . . I guess that was the preamble. That wasn't so bad.

The director is a great guy, and I've worked with him before. In fact, his Christmas show two years ago was the last major production I did before the wedding. Brianne and I knew it was a great chance for a fun show, plus a way to see family and friends sooner than originally planned. We accepted the separation as a part of the actor's life (hi diddly dee) and though we miss each other A LOT, we know we're both doing what we're meant to do.

My show is called The Office Christmas Party, and was written by the director. It is a collection of four vignettes with very different characters taking place at four very different work-related holiday shindigs. It's a very funny and entertaining show, with plenty of witty banter and farcical slapstick. I play three different characters, which made for a very interesting task of memorization. First, there's Sean, who uses a false moustache to try to apply to be his own assistant. He's actually a lot smarter than this scheme would indicate.
Kevin the director knows his audience well, and it includes a great many little old ladies. Erego, if there is an opportunity to have his leading men onstage without pants, he takes it. My second character is Lil' Andy the Beauty Consultant. Draw whatever conclusions you wish about him, you'll probably be right.
Last is Randy, the smarmy salesman who thinks that he's just won the lottery and can tell his boss exactly what he thinks of her in his own elequent way.
The cast is very talented, and we've had some great reception from the audiences we've played to. Some people have even hung around after the show until the cast came out in order to tell us how much they enjoyed it, which is the ultimate compliment and very gratifying to know.

The show is a dinner theatre production put on at a Days Inn in Leamington, Ontario, which is about a half hour from Windsor. We're paid and given room and board to come down from Toronto (or Niagara Falls in my case) every other weekend to perform for a mix of local families and office groups. We had a bunch from the local Royal Bank come see us last week, so we altered a few lines to make reference to them. They ate it up. The Days Inn has very comfortable rooms which look inwards to a central courtyard where the pool and waterslides are!

The play only runs alternate weekends, so the rest of the time I am back at the Hodwitz family homestead in Niagara Falls. Mom and Dad are delighted to have me around . . . there is a good list of chores that's been piling up in my absence. Plus, my sister Kat is home for the holidays, and it's been SO long since we've had any extended time together. Good quality time with the family, whether it's checking out the sights of town, running errands, doing yardwork, cooking, or just watching episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. I had looked into the possibility of getting a part-time job while I was here, but my unusual schedule made the pickings rather slim.

The coming weeks will include a trip to Kirkland Lake with my Uncle Richard to see my Dziadiu (Polish for "grandpa"), day trips to Toronto, and hopefully catching up with family friends I've not seen much of since the wedding. After the play finishes up on the 20th of December, I'll have a couple of days before hopping my flight to Ottawa to meet up with Brianne when she lands on the 23rd to spend Christmas with the Tuckers. That, my friends, will be an AWESOME Christmas present.

Moments and Memorization

Alas, I am alone in Merry London without a husband, but it is all for a good cause. Andrew has gone to the Windsor area to perform in a Christmas show that embodies the horror that is "The Office Christmas Party", and no, we are not talking about Dwight and Michael from The Office. (Humerous and unconfortable though it may be.) I wish him well and know that if I had kept him here for no good reason that I would be going against everything that he stands for as an artist:struggle.
However, letting my travelling partner go had left me with a rather troubling dilemma: We had tickets to go on a late night host walk of Hampton Court Palace, and I was not going to get rid of my ticket. Enter Matt: our voice over House mate who is a pretty cool bloke and occasionally refers to me as 'mate'. (Yes, he's Australian - not trying to wisk me away from Andrew!)
So Matt was able to join me on my night out ghost hunting - and all I can say is: WOW.

The trip started off with leaving from Waterloo station (Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to!) and arriving around 7 p.m. at Hampton Court. By the way: the sun sets close to 4:10 p.m. at the moment - so 7 p.m. is DARK! The tour began in front of the main doors into the Palace; we couldn't go through them as there was a large archaelogical dig going on but that was not our focus. Our gaze was drawn towards a tiny window in the far right of the building, overlooking where the moat once was. It is the room through that window that a family was staying in Victorian times. The family kept on complaining of hearing a whirring sound late at night. On inspection a door was uncovered that had been walled up, and inside was a room with a solitary spinning wheel - the source of the noise. Historians researched to find the last known resident of that room to be Sybil Penn, the nurse/guardian to Edward, only ligitimate son of Henry the 8th. Sybil Penn became part of Elizabeth l entourage until she died of small pox around 1562. She was buried in a chapel nearby in Hampton. However, the church was hit by lightning and her grave was one of the ones disturbed. since that time (late 1800's I believe) sightings of Sybil have been regular amongst staff and those who work along the Thames river.

Our next stop was the Great Hall of Henry VIII - an amazing piece of work by day or night. Along the sides are 6 or 8 (of a set of 10) tapestries that are valued as the world's most expensive tapestries. About 80% of the work is done in gold or silver thread. There is also a spot on the ceiling that shows the original paint and design - but only visible at night with a flashlight. Here we were told how every sighting is investigated and how many of them have a very dull reality to them. One night a guard was walking through the palace, doing their rounds. They came into the Great Hall and shone their torch along the walls to make sure everything was fine. As the torch light hit the far end of the room the guard saw the ghostly white outline of a woman in a nightown - and promtly fled the scene. As our guide told the story he moved his torch along the wall - and low and behold as it shone on the far side of the room we saw the vision for ourselves. However - upon inspection the anomaly is revealed to be refracted light from the hidden system protecting the tapestries. Proof that one should always find a reasonable explaination before assuming it's ghosts.

Onto the next room - Henry's audience chamber where he would be greated everyday when leaving his personal chambers by people asking for favours and money. Here we sat in the dark (with only torchlight) yet again - on benches as we were told about the Haunted Gallery - the rooms beyond this one. It is considered to be so for these reasons: Henry the VIII took as his fifth wife the young Catherine Howard (cousin to his second wife Anne Boleyn). Historians place Catherine as young as fourteen to as old as seventeen upon her marriage to the fifty year old King. She had at least one affair that we can confirm - possibly two - and when Henry found out she was placed under house arrest in Hampton before being moved into Syon House and subsuquently the Tower of London to be executed on February 13th 1542. There is however one day where we believe that Catherine escaped from her guard at Hamtpon Court only to run down the gallery and bang on the door of Henry's private chapel, pleading for mercy. She was promptly dragged back to her rooms and it is rather obvious that she did not receive the requested mercy. Grace and favour residents have reported hearing hurried footsteps alongside the gallery as well as strange occurrances with the door that we know to have lead to Henry's private chapel. One statistic is clear: of all the places that people have fainted in and around Hampton Court Palace there is one spot that has four times as many reportings as any other: and that is front of the very door that Catherine would have banged upon. With this our guide then told us that each of us would go - one by one or in pairs - into the Haunted Gallery lit only by candlelight. My heart started racing. I'm not joking - I had Matt feel my pulse and it was pounding, my hands and feet began to sweat and I was filled with the anticipation of wanting to run and wanting to see what was there in the dark. One by one people were pointed to the door, and about halfway down the group it was our turn. Matt and I went through the door into a long corridor lit only with the occasional candle light. I put my hand to almost any doorknob I could see, wondering if I might be hit with a spark telling me I had the right door. As I moved halfway down this one corridor a chill passed through me. I turned my head to the right and there on the wall was the darkened portrait of Henry, gazing down towards me. I couldn't see the face, but the stance was unmistakable - how odd that while passing this particular painting I should feel the chill.

Onwards and around a corner - and suddenly - like a light going on in your head - I knew I was in the actual part of the gallery that was supposed to be haunted. There was nothing marking it, nor the door that we were looking for, it was not different from the other corridor in style or decor or lighting - it just felt different. I couldn't pinpoint which door was the right one, but Matt did find the broom closet - literally. At the end of the hall we joined the rest of our group as we waited for the other half to finish their walk.

Other stories that we encounted are as follows:

1. A private apartment that the historical chefs use when they are staying at Hampton to prepare the 'historically accurate meals'. Their front door has three bolts to lock it. During one stay they returned to the apartment to find the door unlocked and wide open. When this happened a few days in a row they decided to have someone lock it from the inside as well, place a chair up against it and leave by climbing out one of the windows. Upon their return that evening the door was again unlocked and open and the chair halfway down the front hall.

2. A staircase where the figure of a woman in a nightgown carrying a candle has been spotted many times. Tradition has it that it is the ghost of Jane Seymour who died at Hampton 12 days after giving birth to Henry's son.
3. A room where a private resident decided to place the framed portraits of the actors from a popular BBC show portaying Henry VIII and his six wives. On at least two occasions the portraits have been found on the floor in the middle of the room, their frames smashed and broken

And of course the crowning glory:

In 2003 during the middle of the day (11:45 a.m) a strange occurrance happened three days in a row. Security was first alerted the first day when an alarm went off. Someone had opened the fire doors in a more remote part of the Palace. Upon arriving at the scene they found the fire doors closed, and so they suspected (it being mid-day) that a member of the public had decided to use them as an exit point. Upon inspecting the CCTV cameras there was no one caught on film either opening the doors, heading towards the doors on the inside of the palace or away from them on the outside of the palace. (I say away as there is no handle on the outside of the door and on the inside it is a push bar to open the door.) The same thing happened the following day at the exact same time and spot. On the third day it happened again, but when they reviewed the tape that day they caught what has been now named 'Skeletor'. (Google or Youtube it if you like.) On the tape it shows the doors flinging open in unison. Eight seconds later a figure appears in the doorway and proceeds to close the doors. The figure as a pale face and is clothed in 'clothing of the period of VIII' as put by some. Our group stood outside these fire doors in the dark night air, and as we were told what the guards found really odd about the occurrences - the doors flung wide open! Except standing on the other side was one of the other guides - just doing his job well and giving us all a good start. As we entered the palace through the doors we were able to see that there was no where for someone to hide off camera and that the doors did need a great deal of force to open them up. Ghost? Or an elaborate hauxe to convince tourists to come on these late night tours?

Either way it was a brilliant night out.

On to other things - I am memorizing my script every day in anticipation for rehearsals this week. Nothing much to tell there as it's well - memorizing words off of a page -oooh, exciting...

In terms of part time jobs - I am still catering and this past week I have served the Duke/Earl of Wessex - three times. He's a decent bloke, fairly normal and has been kind enough to laugh at me at least twice and values my advice. The story behind it is this: I was serving a private party he was holding at Frogmore House and most of the attendees were Canadian. I was speaking of the wonder that is Ice Wine when HRH came into our group and agreed with my taste in liquor. I don't know if that means that my tastes are expensive or if his are cheap...

From that point on in the evening he and I had good repore, so that when it came to the moment that I accidentally dropped an (empty) cup of coffee rather close to him, he was able to bring some humour to the situation. To those in my family who think this might be a step up - please stop dreaming, it's just that of all the Royals, Wessex is the most down to earth.

And so back to memorising...

The Woman in Black

Brianne and I had our fill of Halloween chills a little late this year. Last night we went to the Fortune Theatre near Covent Garden to see the acclaimed "spine-chiller" play The Woman in Black. We had been told by that this play is genuinely as frightening as a good suspense/horror film, and we can both assure you that the hype is totally believable.

The play is based on an English horror novel of the early '80's, and is presented as the tale of an old man named Arthur Kipps who has hired an actor to help him tell his story "which must be told" in order to exorcise the personal demons the experience has left him with. The show is presented in a very intimate space with sparse sets, simple costumes and only two actors . . . plus, of course, the ghostly spectre of the completely uncredited Woman of the title.

The show is genius in it's simplicity. It relies on deft lighting, masterful sound design, the art of misdirection, and the superb storytelling skill of it's actors. One could say they use the same tricks as a campfire ghost story, and yet they are pulled off magically. I kid you not, the audience was screaming in fear by the end, us included. The chills were on par with my best experiences of Hitchcock.

After the show, Brianne and I hung around the stage door to let the actors know how much we enjoyed the performance. The younger man who played The Actor, was appreciative but had to hurry off to catch his train. The older gentleman who played Kipps was positively delighted to stop and chat with us, and in fact we strolled and chatted all the way to Charing Cross station discussing our acting experiences. He had recently played Gandalf and Elrond in the West End production The Lord of the Rings, and years ago had taught privately in Toronto! I was particulary keen to speak with him as he played multiple characters in the play, which is a challenge I am often given in my shows. His advice on this task was inspiring; I was beaming by the time we parted ways. What a wonderful night in the theatre.

Cousin Emily comes to town

We've been missing our family a great deal during our conquest of Europe, and so it has been a blessing to share this past week with our dear cousin Emily, who hopped the Channel from uni in France to visit us. She bunked on the spare single bed in our room, and was treated to breakfast in bed every morning with a hot water bottle. Only thing we neglected were mints on the pillows. Seriously considering opening a B&B after this.

Em arrived on Sunday night, just in time to see my show at the Palladium. Our first full day together began with a considerable lie-in on Monday morning; as Emily reassured us, "It's okay, I'm on vacation." We made our way down to the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery at Trafalgar Square, stopping by a discount booth in Leicester Square to pick up tickets for a West End show - which fortuitously ended up being Wicked on Halloween! After made the lengthy trek from Trafalgar to the high street shopping area - stopping to see the wonder of Hamley's Toy Store - and introduced Em to the trippy experience of shopping at Primark. We managed to drag her away just before it closed.

Tuesday began our serious sight-seeing, and what better way to begin than with The Tower of London. Brianne and I actually purchased a Royal Palace membership this time out, meaning we can visit the Tower and four other palaces for free as many times as we want for a whole year!

It's a real shame that you can only be a Yeoman Warder ("Beefeater" Tower guide) after being the British armed forces for 23 years, because Brianne is the ultimate guide for the Tower. We actually had a mother shushing her children so as to hear B tell the history of the stronghold. We inspected every inch of the the Tower, took part in a demo of medieval siege engines, then made our way to the picturesque Tower Bridge for nighttime snapshots.

As we love to do when we have guests in town, B and I treated Emily to dinner at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, and she sat in Charles Dickens' seat noshing fish 'n' chips. We made our way back to the Tower afterwards for The Ceremony of the Keys, considered the oldest continuous military tradition in the world, in which the Yeoman Warders ceremoniously lock up the Tower for the night. Free to the public, but limited in numbers, so B had to write ahead to the Tower for tickets. Unfortunately, the night decided first to rain on us and then send hail and snow, chilling us to the bone! Wonderful to experience the Ceremony, nonetheless.

Wednesday took us out of town to Warwick Castle, a site B and I have been meaning to see for some time. It's a very Robin Hood-esque castle, exactly the type I love. We climbed the ramparts, took in a falconry display, enjoyed the waxwork scenes of castle life, and braved the chills of the interactive "Ghosts Alive" experience in the aptly named Ghost Tower (actually reputed to be haunted by a former lord.)
Below is a clip of a Singing Plague Victim. Kudos on playing a vintage instrument, but does her warbling remind of a certain sister-in-law of mine?

Thursday took us out to Hampton Court Palace, a very grand place with labyrinthine halls and expansive grounds. We made our way through it's fabled hedge maze in record time. We also saw a demonstration of regal Tudor clothing. Every guide we came across assured us that the palace is brimming with ghosts. None could swear to seeing one, but felt presences, unexplained sounds, and eery temperature changes were widely reputed and vouched for.

We decided to take it easy on Friday, and went on a glorious stroll through some of the parks which London maintain so well. The autumn sun in Green Park was wonderful.We found the Canada Monument, something B and I had not been able to locate previously. It is a large slanted waterfall-style fountain with intricate maple leaves worked into the motif, commemorating companionship and joint service in war.We joined the throng at Buckingham Palace, watching the guards move around (no official Changing, though) and took in the Victoria Monument.After cutting through St. James Park and enjoying the company of ducks and squirrels that are surprisingly accustomed to the humans around them, we managed to track down a pair of honest-to-goodness big-hatted guards outside St. James Palace. They looked just as serious and implacable as one could imagine, despite being very baby-faced youngsters.We allowed Emily a longing look at the wing of the palace where their Hignesses William and Harry reside (they weren't in, sadly), we trundled along to the Horse Guard palace. Very interesting helmets, and just as immovable as their brothers in arms.At Emily's request, we tried to hit all of the iconic London sights today, seeing Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey (just the outside) and the London Eye, before swinging back up and around to Covent Garden.We finished off our Halloween with a night at the theatre, taking in a performance of Wicked. We were right at the back of the upper balcony, and it was still a pretty good view. Brianne and I actually ran into a fellow stage-combatant from Toronto at intermission while buying ice cream! The show was spectacular as always, though I admit that I'm so used to hearing American accents with the lyrics that proper RP sounded a bit jarring.

Saturday morning saw the ladies brave the drizzle to take in Portobello Road market and a bit of the British Museum while I stayed home to work on my script for the show I'm doing at Christmas (more on that another time.) Upon returning, we lounged in the warmth of home before heading of to a home-made dinner treated to us by our pal Ed. We spent the evening playing board games (Emily whipped us soundly) and watching a scary movie to commemorate Halloween, followed by a cartoon to take the edge off.

Our final day with Emily took us out to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich where we straddled the Prime Meridian, the heart of global timekeeping. We poked around a food and doodad market on the way back to the heart of town where we caught the beginning of Evensong mass at St. Paul's Cathedral. It was our first time making inside the cathedral, and it is beyond awe-inspiring. The choir really added to the experience. We will have to return for a more thorough tour. We made one last stop at Primark (Emily was suitably restrained) and then made it home for dinner out our favourite local Thai place and leisurely packing. We were up at 5 the next morning to take Emily to St. Pancras train station for a misty-eyed farewell. It was an incredible week of new experiences, one of our best of the trip to date.

Me & My Girl

7:30pm Friday October 24: I began the 48 hour Showtime Challenge, rehearsing and mounting Me & My Girl at the London Palladium in two days with a cast of 127! Tiring, but rewarding.

Admittedly, my part was rather small -- I was in one number as a member of the Cockney ensemble. But I played it to the hilt nonetheless. The show went beautifully; even I was amazed at how well it turned out with so little group rehearsal. My adoring public (Brianne, cousin Emily who made it to town, our friend Ed and our new flatmate Matt) enjoyed the show very much, despite the bad seats I managed to procure for them. Please find below a few pics from the rehearsal. I actually didn't get a chance to really know people during the whole process, as there just wasn't time. I snapped pics here of costumes I found entertaining!

The Return of the Beast

I realise that I have not written up about my last leg of adventure on the Beastie – I would like to say that it is because I am still recovering, but in all honesty it is because auditions recently have been doing rather well. (Yeah!)
Flashback to September 8th: I met my driver Sean over at the AYS unit around 10 in the morning, with the Beastie unfortunately still fully intact. (Damn my luck!)We were about to embark on a four day driving tour of Cornwall and Devon to once more show off how wonderful whiskey and cheese go together. Sometimes I still can’t believe I get paid for this.
Cornwall is approximately a five or so hour drive away from London – but readers might remember that the Beastie is only able to do 55 mph at the best of times, and that the air flow comes directly up through the vehicle onto my face. So in fact it took us much closer to 8 hours to get to our destination of Penzance, Cornwall. (Que music and Gilbert & Sullivan!) It’s a little seaside town where the industry resolves around the sister of Mont Saint Michael in Brittany, France: Saint Michael’s Mount is what it is named over here and I was able to see it from the coast line. Sean and I were put up in a lovely little Bed and Breakfast place called The Corner House that was right across the street from the Ocean. Here’s the best part: Sean and I were put up in separate rooms and I got the Ocean view room with a large queen sized bed all to myself. The only thing Sean had that I didn`t was a bathtub – and he let me use it! It didn`t have a plug so I used one of my socks to plug the drain and then filled up the tub. Ladies and Gentlemen this was my first bath in five months and I loved every single second of it.
The next day we woke up to have breakfast (home made) downstairs with all the other renters and headed out to Bayswater near Newquay. There I saw something that nearly had me jumping up in down. Tanya probably will know what I am talking about. Years ago Jim Henson made a film with Angelica Houston called The Witches and over in Newquay is the hotel that they filmed in the movie. It is so massive and set apart from everything else that you cannot miss it – especially since it`s out on a rock, almost on the brink of the sea.
That afternoon we spent on the Bayswater beach, trying to convince surfers to try some whiskey to warm them up. I was standing right under Jamie Olivers restaurant and talked to a few Canadians. (Canadians, from Saskatchewan, surfing here! Isn`t California a lot closer and ummmm WARMER)
Then drove over to Mousehole (it lives up to it`s name) to find an address that doesn`t exist. When we actually did find the address that were supposed to be at, it was close to 9 p.m. and we did a quick tasting for 8 people.
You know those moments where you realise that you have said something inappropriate and want to crawl into a hole in the earth but there is no exit in sight. I had one of those. I was speaking to a young german girl about wines, whiskeys and other types of alcohol. She said that she enjoyed sweet wines and I replied by suggesting some jewish vintages. Did you see it, the moment that I fudged up? I could hear my inner studio audience just groaning at my suggestion. Why, oh why, could I not have thought of Ice wine first?

So onto day two: with three stops in total. First was Falmouth where the tall ships were being displayed. I would have to say this is where we had the best turn out for people willing to try the whiskey. Then onto Hail – not much to say there as there is nothing in Hail and I doubt very much I would ever return. We finished the night back in Mousehole with a party of pirates who were all ready and willing to try Arrrrdbeg! (According to their hired butler the group had gone through a week’s worth of booze in one day – it showed.)

The one stop on our third day (after an amazing breakfast with homemade sausages) was the town of Dartmouth – extremely pretty little seaside town with some of the nicest people I have met in Britain.

During our many hours of being on the road my driver, Sean, and I came up with The Ardbeg Drinking Game. It’s a very simple game that revolved around the idea of if we could drink while driving or if there were secret cameras inside the Beastie then the viewing audience would have to drink whenever we did the following: (It would not take long to get extremely sauced.)
Every time we have to turn around as we missed a turn or an exit
Every time that I blame Sean for the smell of the animal pastures that we are passing
Every time I swore
Every time The Beastie stalled while in the middle of a street, a turn, or an intersection
Every time we had to fill up the gas tank
Every time we were passed by a driver and then passed them five minutes later (with one guy this happened at least five times on the same highway)
Every time we were honked at for going too slowly

It’s a very simple game – but I am sure it would be fun.
The little topper of the trip was on the drive home. Sean knew that I hadn’t seen Stonehenge yet – so on the way back we took a little detour. The site was closed for the day, so we pulled over on the side of the road and walked up to the fence that surrounds is. In some ways it was better for me, as there was no one walking around the site I didn’t have to worry about having strangers in my pictures. It was a lovely end to my little getaway.

White Men Can't Sway

This past weekend Andrew and his group from Me and My Girl performed in Covent Garden to gather interest in their show on the 26th of October. (Yes, I have tickets as well as a date.And I promise I will try to sneak a camera in there to get some photography of Andrew playing a Cockney.)

They had two sets of twenty minutes to perform songs from other musicals, otherwise it would be considered cheating. Below I have video from one of the more popular songs - and if you can't hear what I am trying to narrate - I had something like "How do you like that, Tanya?"

In reference to the title: I Can't say White Men Can't Jump because I know my husband plays basketball rather well and would like to play it more often. (Incidentally: One day while passing a basketball court he expresse an interest in teaching me how to play. Very cute honey - hell hasn't quite frozen over - we shall see where the credit crunch leaves us.)

However; as per usual, choir directors feel that they must come up with some sort of choreography for their group to make it interesting for the viewer. This inevitably leads to the most common of choreo: the sway and step: repeat as necessary or until music changes.

I try to rack my brains for something else that might be a little more imaginative but just as simple and I`m afraid all I can come up with are moves that would remind everyone of the Thriller dance. Any suggestions are welcome.

Onto other news: It appears that Andrew may be leaving to go back to Canada earlier than anticipated. He has been offered a role with a company that he worked for 2 years ago and should he accept and it is reasonably priced to fly back early, he may be back as soon as November 8th. I don`t want to say much more until the details are finalised as I may very well be counting chickens before they hatch. Either way I should be enjoying a decent omelette.

As for now, I shall leave you with the video clip and a photo that shows my husband has the talent (unlike myself) to be caught - even while singing - with his mouth closed. I need to take a leaf off of his branch and learn his secret.

Various Musings

This title sounds a little more poetic than "Random Thoughts," figured I'd give it a try.

During the half-marathon this past Sunday, while pointing the multitude of runners (apparently nearly 12,000 of them) in the right direction, I noticed a few of the participants conspicuously standing out from the throng by wearing very odd costumes. I saw quite a few silly wigs, ranging from black Afro to rainbow clown to tinsel mullet. I saw two Supergirl outfits and two banana costumes, as well as a giant beer bottle ensemble. There were Woody and Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. The pinacle, however, were a pair of men wearing the infamous green "slingshot-style" bikini of the movie character Borat. Google this image if you dare. In the words of Douglas Adams, it " . . . has to be seen to be believed, but if you don't have any particular need to believe it, then don't go and look because you won't enjoy it."

Both Brianne and I continue to battle our colds. We managed to find our secret weapon for sore throats -- Oil of Oregano -- but the formula here doesn't seem as potent at back home. We've been having lots of soup, tea, and the mixture we call "Gollum Juice," which is a concoction of hot water, lemon juice, ginger root and honey. I got this recipe from a director at Randolph, and later learned that the actor who played Gollum in The Lord of the Rings trilogy used the same stuff to ease his throat from using that raspy voice (a voice he modelled after the sound his cats made when expelling hairballs).

I've been formulating odd lists in my head.

List of Bands with Proper Place Names:
America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Alabama, Chicago, Boston

List of Actresses with Distinctly Low Voices:
Mercedes Rheul, Bea Arthur, Kathleen Turner

Any thoughts on additions to these, please post a comment.

George Carlin passed away a few months ago. He has always been one of my favourite comedians. I felt he was a true genius in the way that he examined the English language, confronted heavy issues along with silly trivialities, and really made you think about the big things and little things in life. His points of view were often controversial, even I didn't agree with all of them, but the fact is he made me consider them even if I disagreed. He is noted as a major influence on every new generation of stand-up comic, and his legendary Seven Words You Can't Say on Television bit is a part of U.S. free-speech history. He will be missed.

Swearing in the Rain

We have new flatmates living next door to us in our house on Stapleton Hall Road. Colleen and Melissa are another BUNAC pair from Montreal. Yay Canadians! Brianne helped them get into AYS. It's great having nice neighbours with a common activity.

The four of us worked a job together yesterday, Colleen and Melissa's second gig overall. We were driven down to the Greenwich area to help out with half-marathon called Run to the Beat.

Sound fun? It WASN'T.

It was raining from the moment we woke up that day and didn't stop once. The four of us were picked up at the house at 7am and driven down to the race site. We learned we were to be Marshalls for the race, pointing runners in the right direction and making sure the barricaded roads were maintained and the spectators kept back from the runners.

Brianne and I -- in fact, ALL the AYS staff -- sustained more verbal abuse during this shift than a soccer riot. Motorists constantly complaining of the road closures and the supposed lack of notice of the event, barking at us to let us through. I derived some satisfaction that Brianne told off one of the offending motorists something fierce.

One the flipside of the abuse, I did have a really nice thing happen to me. A little old lady strolled by while I was setting up, and we chatted briefly about the day's event. On her way back from the market, she surprised me with a box of chocolate biscuits she'd bought for me, just to brighten my day in the rain!

After the drenching slog was done, the four of us returned home to dry socks and our heated room to nibble pizza and slug back whiskey shots (purely medicinal) and commiserated over the memorable day.

The Bard's Yard

Brianne and I made it out to The Globe Theatre, the old stomping grounds of Shakespeare himself, to catch a performance of The Merry Wives of Windsor. A truly British experience . . . partly because it rained during the show! The Globe is an open-roofed building and we went for the 5 pound standing-room-only "Groundling" tickets like the peasants of yore. Luckily, it was only a fine drizzle for a few minutes.

We had lunch before the show at The Swan, a lovely little brasserie that Uncle Bill treated us to when he was here a few months ago. We had been so taken with the soup, we knew we had to try it agin. Very tasty, with a side of bread and a lemon cake for afters.

The Globe is a beautiful structure, and I feel it sort of represents what theatre's about: drawing together loads of all different people -- cram 'em in, sitting or standing -- to tell them really neat things they don't know yet. And it's right in your face. We were literally leaning on the extended stage.

The show was hilarious, very farcical. It reminded me of commedia dell'arte in that by the way the character dressed, talked and moved you could tell exactly what archetype they were: The Fool, The Fop, The Doctor, The Ingenue. To assist in this they had live musicians play little interludes which informed the action, almost like a Bugs Bunny cartoon. These musicians were also a warm-up act of sorts, playing lively jig music before the show started.

A wonderful time at the theatre, but alas we had to leave at intermission. Why? Brianne and I are ill with cold and sore throat. We bundled up and braved the elements for a while -- and it was well worth it -- but we both knew we shouldn't push ourselves too far. Leaving did not diminish the great time we had. Plus, we picked up some mead (fermented honey wine) from the Globe gift shop, which is both delicious and soothing to the throat.