Umm, yes. I am not going to explain the title – just be assured that it makes sense as a whole for this entry.
Last week Andrew & I were leading a 3-day workshop for The Lion King. We had 13 kids and the object was to get a full 15 minute version of the show prepared for the final day to be put on in front of their families. Pretty much the Christmas plays that you always had to watch your kids in at school except shorter and with less rehearsal. It was a joy and a nightmare. Casting took place on the first day and the kids were either in one of two groups: the loud ones who wanted to audition for everything to ensure that they got a good role OR the quiet ones who didn’t want to read for anything. That was fairly easy enough to cast. Loud ones in main roles – quiet ones in chorus. After that the days were consumed with staging, teaching them the choreography and making sure they got their lines memorised. (They could take the scripts home each night.) However, one little boy in particular could never remember when he was supposed to be on stage, when he was supposed to speak or what his dance moves were. He is my hamster. For the first 2 days we had the kids rehearse without costumes, but we did make sure that everyone left the stage when they were supposed to if they had a costume changes for the next scene. This worked well most of the time. However, on the third day my little hamster decided that right after a big dance number and just before the next big scene with everyone on stage (These three scenes occurred back to back, with everyone staying on stage.) that he was the only one that needed to leave the stage to change. Of course he was late for his next line, but it was only during the rehearsal. During the main performance he got along well enough as I either whispered his cues from back stage or pushed him back on when he thought it was time to leave the scene. (And yes, I hated myself a little for shoving a child back on stage)
The great groaner happened afterwards. After the show I was chatting to all the parents, signing the kids out, congratulating them on a job well done when my little hamster’s parents came to have a chat with me. They were apparently both in ‘show business’ (I didn’t ask them in what capacity) and had put their son in this workshop to see if he had the acting bug. That’s right boys and girls, these parents were turning to me to find out if I thought their son was talented, if I thought he should take lessons and perhaps become the next cute little boy to star next to Johnny Depp or something.
I thought of the past three days with Hamster; how he hadn’t put up his hand to audition for anything, how he couldn’t remember the very, very simple dance moves. (When the lyrics go “look left, look right” – do exactly that), how lost he looked on stage, his inability to remember his one line at the beginning of scene 7 (Mummy, I’m tired!), and how Andrew, our other helper and myself had discussed how slightly slower than the rest of the kids Hamster was. I then said the only thing I really could say to a set of parents looking to me to see their son’s talent.
“Hamster has done really well, he was a little shy at first but really blossomed after the first day. He’s been a joy to have and I think he had a great deal of fun. I hope to see him again in one of our workshops.”
Lies, lies, lies…
As Andrew and I walked home and talked it over, we stopped on the steps in front of our door, keys in hand. Andrew turned to me. “At least you didn’t say ‘the wheel is turning…but the hamster is dead.”
I had to laugh.
On to politics. I am not the most political person in the world, nor do I have a great deal of research to support my views. I base a lot of what I think and feel on experience. But there is something in the news that is starting to really p*** me off. It’s the Americans vs. the NHS (National Health System of Great Britain.
I believe the President Obama wants to change the health care of the USA by making it more like that of Canada and Great Britain. To have more of the idea that everyone should be covered and that is should be easy access to all to see a doctor. And yet, there is this huge outcry from the American public. Or at least the American public that I read about in the papers and see on tv. They seem to think that to be more like the NHS system would be an abomination to humanity. They say that the NHS doesn’t care about older people and that very few people get actual care.
Hmmm…Pot. Kettle. Black.
For one, the NHS is not like that. Andrew & I are both Canadian citizens living in London and have been able to see our GP quiet easily. If I want to call for a general check-up I just call the office or walk in and book an appointment. If it is something a bit more urgent I can tell the receptionists and they will schedule us in that day.
With Andrew’s recent lung infection he has been able to see our GP anytime he wanted. X-rays have been scheduled, and redone and redone, and not a penny came out of our pockets as they were covered. Yes, the doctor still hasn’t been able to 100% cure him – but it is a lot better than when it started.
And yet I know that if my insurance did not cover me well enough – I wouldn’t have the same care in the USA.
I blame the corporations. Somehow they have been able to get their money sunk deep enough into the pockets of congress and such and should the USA ever go into public health care it is the corporations (I wager) that have the most to loose.
What upsets me is that the people in the town halls and schools who have rallied against the proposed changes yell and scream about how bad the systems in Canada and the UK are, but I doubt they have ever visited either country. Why can’t these people do their research? Maybe read up on both systems, call some friends, chat on facebook or – heaven forbid – find out from a professional what their thoughts are on the subject.
Ignorance is something that has always bothered me. But the fact that we are becoming more and more susceptible to the messages flashed at us on the tv, that we are being told what to think and are repeating that message to other people, that we are no longer questioning the medium as well as the mesaage…just plain scares me.
1984 anyone?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Mummy, We're Homesick!!!
There’s a line in a poem that says ‘Home is a place where if you have to be there, they have to take you in.’ Andrew and I are hoping this is relatively true.
Yes, after a year and half in a foreign country we have begun to have our fill of bangers and mash. (Sausage & Potatoes to you Canucks.) It all started when job shortages began to be felt as apposed to heard about. Slowly we realised we were in for a hard deal. And lady luck is one mean casino matron. Yes, we have had luck finding some theatre jobs but in the past few months they auditions have been rarer, the castings more specific (Princess Jasmine must be able to sing, dance and act, have a clean UK drivers license that is at least 5 years old, play the saxophone, tuba and flute and speak with a Yorkshire accent and preferably lives no more than 25 miles from Manchester.) Yes – they are THAT specific.
Then began the battles of who could come up with what they miss most about Canada. Here’s the shortlist:
1. Tim Hortons (Yes, it goes without saying that Family should come first, but come on people! Do you know how lucky you are to have a choice of TIMBITS?!)
2. Canadian banks. I understand if you all may think that Canadian banks are filled with crooks – but that’s just because you haven’t met the British. There is no such thing as customer service, their system is archaic and the lines are a bare minimum of 25 minutes. And no, it doesn’t matter how few people there are in front of you – the line up is still 25 minutes.
3. Alexander Keiths. British ales are world renowned but they taste they warm stagnant pond water.
4. Driving on the RIGHT side of the road. (as in correct)
5. Swiss Chalet. I know some of you will groan when you read this one, but it is true. You just can’t beat that sauce.
6. Breakfasts that do not involve beans, mushroom and tomato. And streaky bacon. It’s not really streaky bacon, it’s just streaky fat. I miss bacon. Real bacon. Yumm, bacon.
7. Smart Set. Indeed, any store that does not sell psychedelic coloured clothing in sizes that are far too large for me. Over here I am a size six. But clothing over here doesn’t start at size six. It starts at size eight. And the petite section sucks. So if you want clothes that fit you might as well gain weight. Oh, and shops that you know aren’t involved with slave labour. Primark over here is able to sell most of their shoes for under 20 pounds, but no one seems to question why.
8.An actual bed. I mean one that involves a top sheet as well as a fitted one. And a box spring that is not helped up by the past decades worth of phone books. Please don’t ask why, just have pity.
9. People who clean up after their dogs. It seems over here in residential areas perfectly normal to leave dogs droppings on the side walk for all pedestrians. We know there is a penalty for it, but we have never seen anyone caught. And this stuff is everywhere. In the tourist areas you are fine. Forget the middle class residential.
10. A better appreciation for health. First of all, the smoking ban here is in its infancy and people are still grumbling about it, concerned that their rights are being taken away and that pubs will close as a result. Second, booze is way too cheap and easily available at all hours, so binging is rife. Finally, the doctors here have not been able to truly cure my cough that I’ve had since May, and I’ve lost my patience with them.
11. Canada’s Wonderland. We miss good rollercoasters and funnel cake.
12. Roads that go North-South and East-West. Here they seem to think, “Well, our horses have trod these paths for generations, let’s just pave those,” so the entire country is on the garden-path system and you can’t drive anywhere without a SatNav.
13. Being able to blow your nose without it coming out just a little bit BLACK.
14. Being able to say “pants” in polite company and not have people giggle. (Pants are underwear here.)
15. The Canadian school system. If I have to hear anything more on GCSE’s, A-levels, and that fact that they only have exams in year one and three in university, I may shoot myself in the foot.
16. Wendy’s Caesar Salad. Uncle Curtis had is right.
17. Bill’s shelving. (Please, please Dad – when we one day move into a house – we want your shelving!!!)
18. Colleen’s laugh, Linda’s giggle, David’s sense of humour, Glens deep voice, Charlene’s stories, Marc’s hair (aaawww, too soon?), Judy’s lipstick stained smile, Sandra’s hugs, Where’s Bob? Elaine’s goofiness and Curtis’s beer cans. (I almost didn’t write beer before cans – how funny would that have looked? Curtis’s cans!) We want to see Alayna and Nick’s house, go shopping with Emily & Amanda (imagine how fine we would look after that trip to the mall!) Hear what Scott and Andrew have been learning on the guitar, glare at Rachael for being so damn tall, talk to Nathan after, like, forever! And see what Ben has recently won from the city and hear his thoughts on how that affects the world today. And yes, Stephen, I will always listen to your financial advice (although I will not move my RRSP’s until I have seen some sort of increase!)
19, Bill’s rye, Barb’s cooking, (I have been hankering for a cabbage roll since 2009 rolled in. Haha – I made a pun!) Kathryn’s boundless ambition and energy, Uncle Bill and Aunt Mary’s dry wit, Uncle Richard’s dancing, Aunt Dawn’s Zen state of mind, Raiden’s cheerfulness, Reiko’s lovely singing, the Willicks’ spirit and the Knights’ Polish good times.
20. Brittany. And by that I mean Buster. (Hey Buster, how are you, do you miss your Auntie and Uncle? I bet you do. You know Buster, anytime you want to come over and stay you are more than welcome to.)
This list will most likely be added to as time goes on. At the moment Andrew and I are considering coming home for Thanksgiving. If we do, we also expect to at least get some bread or potato stuffing. And if we don’t get any we will turn Amanda on you. And she hasn’t had stuffing in a Loooonnng time.
Yes, after a year and half in a foreign country we have begun to have our fill of bangers and mash. (Sausage & Potatoes to you Canucks.) It all started when job shortages began to be felt as apposed to heard about. Slowly we realised we were in for a hard deal. And lady luck is one mean casino matron. Yes, we have had luck finding some theatre jobs but in the past few months they auditions have been rarer, the castings more specific (Princess Jasmine must be able to sing, dance and act, have a clean UK drivers license that is at least 5 years old, play the saxophone, tuba and flute and speak with a Yorkshire accent and preferably lives no more than 25 miles from Manchester.) Yes – they are THAT specific.
Then began the battles of who could come up with what they miss most about Canada. Here’s the shortlist:
1. Tim Hortons (Yes, it goes without saying that Family should come first, but come on people! Do you know how lucky you are to have a choice of TIMBITS?!)
2. Canadian banks. I understand if you all may think that Canadian banks are filled with crooks – but that’s just because you haven’t met the British. There is no such thing as customer service, their system is archaic and the lines are a bare minimum of 25 minutes. And no, it doesn’t matter how few people there are in front of you – the line up is still 25 minutes.
3. Alexander Keiths. British ales are world renowned but they taste they warm stagnant pond water.
4. Driving on the RIGHT side of the road. (as in correct)
5. Swiss Chalet. I know some of you will groan when you read this one, but it is true. You just can’t beat that sauce.
6. Breakfasts that do not involve beans, mushroom and tomato. And streaky bacon. It’s not really streaky bacon, it’s just streaky fat. I miss bacon. Real bacon. Yumm, bacon.
7. Smart Set. Indeed, any store that does not sell psychedelic coloured clothing in sizes that are far too large for me. Over here I am a size six. But clothing over here doesn’t start at size six. It starts at size eight. And the petite section sucks. So if you want clothes that fit you might as well gain weight. Oh, and shops that you know aren’t involved with slave labour. Primark over here is able to sell most of their shoes for under 20 pounds, but no one seems to question why.
8.An actual bed. I mean one that involves a top sheet as well as a fitted one. And a box spring that is not helped up by the past decades worth of phone books. Please don’t ask why, just have pity.
9. People who clean up after their dogs. It seems over here in residential areas perfectly normal to leave dogs droppings on the side walk for all pedestrians. We know there is a penalty for it, but we have never seen anyone caught. And this stuff is everywhere. In the tourist areas you are fine. Forget the middle class residential.
10. A better appreciation for health. First of all, the smoking ban here is in its infancy and people are still grumbling about it, concerned that their rights are being taken away and that pubs will close as a result. Second, booze is way too cheap and easily available at all hours, so binging is rife. Finally, the doctors here have not been able to truly cure my cough that I’ve had since May, and I’ve lost my patience with them.
11. Canada’s Wonderland. We miss good rollercoasters and funnel cake.
12. Roads that go North-South and East-West. Here they seem to think, “Well, our horses have trod these paths for generations, let’s just pave those,” so the entire country is on the garden-path system and you can’t drive anywhere without a SatNav.
13. Being able to blow your nose without it coming out just a little bit BLACK.
14. Being able to say “pants” in polite company and not have people giggle. (Pants are underwear here.)
15. The Canadian school system. If I have to hear anything more on GCSE’s, A-levels, and that fact that they only have exams in year one and three in university, I may shoot myself in the foot.
16. Wendy’s Caesar Salad. Uncle Curtis had is right.
17. Bill’s shelving. (Please, please Dad – when we one day move into a house – we want your shelving!!!)
18. Colleen’s laugh, Linda’s giggle, David’s sense of humour, Glens deep voice, Charlene’s stories, Marc’s hair (aaawww, too soon?), Judy’s lipstick stained smile, Sandra’s hugs, Where’s Bob? Elaine’s goofiness and Curtis’s beer cans. (I almost didn’t write beer before cans – how funny would that have looked? Curtis’s cans!) We want to see Alayna and Nick’s house, go shopping with Emily & Amanda (imagine how fine we would look after that trip to the mall!) Hear what Scott and Andrew have been learning on the guitar, glare at Rachael for being so damn tall, talk to Nathan after, like, forever! And see what Ben has recently won from the city and hear his thoughts on how that affects the world today. And yes, Stephen, I will always listen to your financial advice (although I will not move my RRSP’s until I have seen some sort of increase!)
19, Bill’s rye, Barb’s cooking, (I have been hankering for a cabbage roll since 2009 rolled in. Haha – I made a pun!) Kathryn’s boundless ambition and energy, Uncle Bill and Aunt Mary’s dry wit, Uncle Richard’s dancing, Aunt Dawn’s Zen state of mind, Raiden’s cheerfulness, Reiko’s lovely singing, the Willicks’ spirit and the Knights’ Polish good times.
20. Brittany. And by that I mean Buster. (Hey Buster, how are you, do you miss your Auntie and Uncle? I bet you do. You know Buster, anytime you want to come over and stay you are more than welcome to.)
This list will most likely be added to as time goes on. At the moment Andrew and I are considering coming home for Thanksgiving. If we do, we also expect to at least get some bread or potato stuffing. And if we don’t get any we will turn Amanda on you. And she hasn’t had stuffing in a Loooonnng time.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
A Very Special Dog Named Scout
It is a sad day for myself and Andrew and John and Maryse of Vintage Video. I recieved an email from them saying that Scout had said her goodbye to us on August 4th, in a park in Waterloo. I hope it was a lovely day and one that she was enjoying.
Scout and I met in 2001 and for five years our lives were interlinked. If John and Maryse were her parents I hope she considered me her aunt, although she never treated me with the respect of one. My duties were to walk her and take her out for a play whenever she wanted it, as quite truthfully, she ruled the roost. Many people would come into the store especially to see Scout and occasion would even have gifts for her.
She always had a wonderful sense of childlike play to her. She would instantly understand if you asked her to go for a walk and would wag her tail without a care of what it was bashing through to make her way to the drawer where her leash was. In my final year in Toronto she was given a brand new red collar, something that she practically strutted around the store to show off.
She rarely misbehaved and new it was her job to woof at any squirrels or cats coming into the back lot. She always greeted me with a smile (yes, she could smile) and a big wag. If she was especially excited she would lift her paw to me.
Scout was introduced to Andrew as the person who would bring me food. Thus. she was the person who brought Scout food, as nothing (except for spice or chocolate) was served around Scout without a small sampling going to her. Many a pie plate was licked clean by her.
Her favourite toys that were always on her couch were Mr. Rooster, Mr. Kong and Mr, Gorilla. She always played with them gently and they were always placed beside her should she ever want them. She sucked at playing fetch, but was excellent at teaching me how. I would throw the ball or stick and she would run to it, turning to me when she found it as if to say "Get over here and pick it up, I want to do that again!" Which I always did. Her favourite were snowballs, she would catch those for hours, constantly trying to catch them in her snout.
The couch at the bottom of the stairs was always hers. I would make it up when she was coming, with her bowl filled with water in the morning. I could only sit on the couch when she wasn`t there as she had made it very clear that the only human she would willingly share the couch with was John. My place was made clear - on the stairs...behind the couch.
She was a great friend to have. Whenever we walked together I would talk to her about what was going on in my life, my hopes, my fears and my dreams. She never complained, although I am sure sometimes she wanted to tell me to just chill.
There is a picture of Scout, on her back rolling in the sand on a beach that John & Maryse would always put up at the CNE booth during our time there. I will always remember her as such. There is a picture of her on my bureau, something that I found myself looking at more and more recently.
I was looking forward to meeting up with her again when I went back to Toronto, to have her recognize me and jump for joy when I said the magic words `Go fetch your leash`. So perhaps someday that will happen again, and we can again meet up for a nice long walk. It will be late afternoon in autumn, and the leaves will be all red, orange and gold. Verging on winter and the promise of snowballs. And she will know the way we always walk and which turns to take and when we reach our destination she will wait for me to take off her leash and I shall watch her run free in the park.
Farewell my sweet little friend.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Meeting Icons
Last night I got my Christmas present. Belated, but totally worth it. My lovely wife got us tickets to see a performance of Waiting for Godot, starring two legendary British actors -- Patrick Stewart (aka Jean-Luc Picard) and my personal acting hero, Sir Ian McKellan (Gandalf, Magneto, ad infinitum). After the show we got to meet the whole cast and get their autographs. An grand night, an amazing gift from the love of my life.
Waiting for Godot is one of those shows that people "just don't get." It's an absurdist masterwork by Samuel Beckett in which practically nothing actually happens. Yet it's considered a deeply layered classic that is known to scare actors at the daunting prospect of having to interpret and perform it -- including, by their own admission, last night's powerhouse cast. For me, I don't worry about whether I "get" the show or not. I just listen and watch and allow my mind to muse and wander on whatever theme I think is being portrayed, and allow myself to fully enjoy the nuanced choices of the actors. The show was, in my opinion, terrific, as the performances were fascinating to watch and wonder at.
I always find it interesting to watch Patrick Stewart in roles which break away from the austerity and authority of Picard and Professor Xavier. As Vladimir, he gets to act silly from time to time, scrunching his face and making funny voices while cavorting like a loon. Vladimir is in a kind of purgatory throughout the whole play -- forever waiting for an unseen character who never arrives, constantly holding out hope of his arrival, and the only character who gets the inkling that his circumstances are infinitely repeating.
This was one of the few times I've heard Ian McKellan use a Northern English accent, which is actually more accurate to his birth and upbringing than the standard RP we usually hear from him. Here again, authority is stripped away and he plays Estragon as a bit of a doddering clown, wonderfully cantankerous and sympathetic. Brianne pointed out that, while Vladimir thinks externally, Estragon is very insular and self-oriented. He thinks not a whit what they're waiting for; he cares infinitely more that his feet hurt, he never gets to sleep, and that he really wants a carrot to eat.
The cast is rounded out by two other great British actors, Simon Callow and Robert Pickup. Callow -- not Cowell -- you'll probably recognize from Shakespeare in Love as the Master of Revels who shuts theatre down. He plays the verbose and pompous Pozzo with wonderful panache and vigor, and then in turn makes him utterly pitable when he is blinded in the second act. Pickup plays Lucky, one of the most bedraggled and put-upon characters in literature, a mercilessly abused servant to Pozzo who is completely silent save for a completely disjointed and some might say utterly meaningless monologue of about a page and a half duration in the first act. You may remember Pickup as the voice of Aslan in the classic BBC version of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.
As were waiting by the stage door, a member of the management came out to inform the small and rather subdued group of autograph seekers that Stewart and McKellan don't mind their pictures taken but will not take the time to pose with everyone, and they will only sign things pertaining to Godot. Perfectly reasonable, I thought; simple guidelines to keep them from being mobbed with wizard hats and Starfleet uniforms. The first to leave was the young boy who plays a bit part in the show as a messenger, followed by Pickup.
Following him came Sir Ian. I'd been prepping what I was to say to him for some time, wanting to make sure I said something meaningful rather than just babbling that I was a huge fan or worse, playing it way too cool and aloof and not saying much of anything.
As he leant in to sign my program, I told him that when I was ten my dad showed me a recording of Acting Shakespeare, a one-man show he had done in the 70's, stating that he was my first acting teacher. As I hoped, he seemed very pleasantly surprised by this obscure reference to his early work. Brianne chimed in to say that Sir Ian was one of the main reasons I became an actor, which is quite true. I said he was a true hero to me. He grasped my shoulder and said "That's wonderful. Thank you." In that brief moment, I felt like he was impressed with me. I was rather lost for words after that, and B began to get misty.
(In all truth, my very first acting teacher and inspiration to be an actor is my father, a fact I shall always remember, honour, and appreciate.)
Stewart was next, and he seemed in a bit more of a hurry to get through the line of people. He was perfectly polite, and made a joke with another person in line, but I didn't even get to make eye contact with him, though that was partly because I finishing up my moment with Sir Ian when Stewart signed my program. Also, he had a private car waiting for him with a few other people in the back, so I can understand his haste.
Finally, out came Simon Callow, and he was a very warm and welcoming fellow. He was glad to pose for pictures. Callow is acquainted with Brianne's old boss John from Vintage Video, having visited the store several times in the past. John still has a photo of him with Callow wearing a very retro purple velour suit. B told Callow this, much to his delight, and asked us to give John and Maryse his "very warmest regards."
A grand night out at the theatre, one of those "remember forever" nights. B said she has no idea how to top this gift, to which I replied "How do you think I feel?"
Waiting for Godot is one of those shows that people "just don't get." It's an absurdist masterwork by Samuel Beckett in which practically nothing actually happens. Yet it's considered a deeply layered classic that is known to scare actors at the daunting prospect of having to interpret and perform it -- including, by their own admission, last night's powerhouse cast. For me, I don't worry about whether I "get" the show or not. I just listen and watch and allow my mind to muse and wander on whatever theme I think is being portrayed, and allow myself to fully enjoy the nuanced choices of the actors. The show was, in my opinion, terrific, as the performances were fascinating to watch and wonder at.
I always find it interesting to watch Patrick Stewart in roles which break away from the austerity and authority of Picard and Professor Xavier. As Vladimir, he gets to act silly from time to time, scrunching his face and making funny voices while cavorting like a loon. Vladimir is in a kind of purgatory throughout the whole play -- forever waiting for an unseen character who never arrives, constantly holding out hope of his arrival, and the only character who gets the inkling that his circumstances are infinitely repeating.
This was one of the few times I've heard Ian McKellan use a Northern English accent, which is actually more accurate to his birth and upbringing than the standard RP we usually hear from him. Here again, authority is stripped away and he plays Estragon as a bit of a doddering clown, wonderfully cantankerous and sympathetic. Brianne pointed out that, while Vladimir thinks externally, Estragon is very insular and self-oriented. He thinks not a whit what they're waiting for; he cares infinitely more that his feet hurt, he never gets to sleep, and that he really wants a carrot to eat.
The cast is rounded out by two other great British actors, Simon Callow and Robert Pickup. Callow -- not Cowell -- you'll probably recognize from Shakespeare in Love as the Master of Revels who shuts theatre down. He plays the verbose and pompous Pozzo with wonderful panache and vigor, and then in turn makes him utterly pitable when he is blinded in the second act. Pickup plays Lucky, one of the most bedraggled and put-upon characters in literature, a mercilessly abused servant to Pozzo who is completely silent save for a completely disjointed and some might say utterly meaningless monologue of about a page and a half duration in the first act. You may remember Pickup as the voice of Aslan in the classic BBC version of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.
As were waiting by the stage door, a member of the management came out to inform the small and rather subdued group of autograph seekers that Stewart and McKellan don't mind their pictures taken but will not take the time to pose with everyone, and they will only sign things pertaining to Godot. Perfectly reasonable, I thought; simple guidelines to keep them from being mobbed with wizard hats and Starfleet uniforms. The first to leave was the young boy who plays a bit part in the show as a messenger, followed by Pickup.
Following him came Sir Ian. I'd been prepping what I was to say to him for some time, wanting to make sure I said something meaningful rather than just babbling that I was a huge fan or worse, playing it way too cool and aloof and not saying much of anything.
As he leant in to sign my program, I told him that when I was ten my dad showed me a recording of Acting Shakespeare, a one-man show he had done in the 70's, stating that he was my first acting teacher. As I hoped, he seemed very pleasantly surprised by this obscure reference to his early work. Brianne chimed in to say that Sir Ian was one of the main reasons I became an actor, which is quite true. I said he was a true hero to me. He grasped my shoulder and said "That's wonderful. Thank you." In that brief moment, I felt like he was impressed with me. I was rather lost for words after that, and B began to get misty.(In all truth, my very first acting teacher and inspiration to be an actor is my father, a fact I shall always remember, honour, and appreciate.)
Stewart was next, and he seemed in a bit more of a hurry to get through the line of people. He was perfectly polite, and made a joke with another person in line, but I didn't even get to make eye contact with him, though that was partly because I finishing up my moment with Sir Ian when Stewart signed my program. Also, he had a private car waiting for him with a few other people in the back, so I can understand his haste.
Finally, out came Simon Callow, and he was a very warm and welcoming fellow. He was glad to pose for pictures. Callow is acquainted with Brianne's old boss John from Vintage Video, having visited the store several times in the past. John still has a photo of him with Callow wearing a very retro purple velour suit. B told Callow this, much to his delight, and asked us to give John and Maryse his "very warmest regards."
A grand night out at the theatre, one of those "remember forever" nights. B said she has no idea how to top this gift, to which I replied "How do you think I feel?"
Sunday, June 28, 2009
You've waited so patiently for the Italian Finale
To all our readers who still check in on us to see that we're doing while months go by without writing, GOD BLESS YOU. It's been such a long time since I've been able to sit down at the cafe in order to upload pics with our entries, and for some reason that's been holding me back from blogging on any other topic until I finished talking about Italy. Monkey off my back now. 
As I said before, we were SO happy to get out of Naples. Lesson learned, Sorrento is a much better base of operations. Ironically it was so lovely and relaxing that I plum forgot to take a whole lot of pictures! But you can the craggy beauty of the Amalfi Coast above.
We had hoped to take in a mass given by the Pope, which occurs regularly on Wednesdays. Unfortunately His Holiness was in the Middle East that week so we missed out. But as luck would have it we ran into a young American priest-in-training who offered to take us on a tour of the Vatican with a couple of friends of his sister's from the States, as well as get us into the Catacombs, which one normally must book well in advance! We all got along famously -- the two girls from Atlanta reminding me very much of the Willicks back home and their Redeemer Bible Church crowd; the phrases "God not just good, He's FABULOUS!" and "Jazz Hands for Jesus!" came to mind.
This statue of my namesake saint, Andrew, made B and me giggle when we heard a rather humourous take on his martyrdom and crucifiction as told by our priest friend. St. Andrew was very positive and upbeat, apparently, and went to his execution essentially shouting to the masses, "HEY! Hey! Guess what! I've got this really awesome friend named Jesus who's the best guy ever and now I'm gonna die just like HE did! Except a little slanty." B said, "Y'know, that really does sound like you."
As I said before, we were SO happy to get out of Naples. Lesson learned, Sorrento is a much better base of operations. Ironically it was so lovely and relaxing that I plum forgot to take a whole lot of pictures! But you can the craggy beauty of the Amalfi Coast above.Our hostel was a 10 minute walk from the centre of Sorrento. The place reminded me of a villa. It was light and breezy with white walls and a thatched roof. To our surprise and delight we were not sharing a dorm but got our own private double-bed room for the same price we would normally pay to share with 12 other people! And even though the breakfast was an extra 5 euro, it was the best breakfast of the trip, with eggs and bacon and a multitude of morning pastries. The hostel was also apparently a small cooking college, as one guest from Atlanta was staying there 3 months to get hands-on experience cooking Italian food.
Sorrento is simply stunning. Laid back and picturesque tourist town with plenty of shopping and restaurants, plus wonderful views of the bay. We stopped into a beautiful little church with frescoes and ceiling art, and poked into the shops that line a labyrinth of alleys just off the main road. We picked up the southern Italian Limoncello, a lemon liquer, in a boot-shaped bottle as a gift for our pals Clare and Jonathan -- they specifically asked for something tacky.
We had been jonesing for a nice beach for days in the heat, and finally found one along the coast at Positano, a short but incredibly winding bus trip. Sadly, it was not sandy but pebbly, but we made the best of it and managed to unwind completely. Of course, all good things come at a price, and I burnt pretty badly. Notice the unique "I can only reach so far" pattern.
We stepped out for dinner both nights to little restaurants within the alley maze. The first night we went to The Lantern, and it reminded me a bit of Lady and the Tramp. Glorious pasta and wine. The next night we went to a slightly cheaper hole-in-the-wall place, and learned the lesson that if a place offers food at a few Euros cheaper, there's a reason . . . Brianne found a thick black hair in her ravioli. Aaarrgh.
We stepped out for dinner both nights to little restaurants within the alley maze. The first night we went to The Lantern, and it reminded me a bit of Lady and the Tramp. Glorious pasta and wine. The next night we went to a slightly cheaper hole-in-the-wall place, and learned the lesson that if a place offers food at a few Euros cheaper, there's a reason . . . Brianne found a thick black hair in her ravioli. Aaarrgh.We said our farewell to Sorrento and boarded the train back to Naples so as to catch our connection to Rome. We learned another valuable lesson -- ALWAYS check for the little electronic card punchers on the platform to validate your train ticket before you board the train. We had neglected to do this on the way TO Naples without incident, but this time a conductor checked our ticket and there was a very tense exchange before he let us off with a warning and a weary smile. Phew.
We were very glad to be back in the grandeur of Rome. After booking back in to the same hostel as our first stop, we made our way down to the Colisseum again. We'd been wanting to do something fun and silly, which was to pay a little money to have a picture taken with the guys who dress up as centurions outside. More specifically, Toby needed to be in the shot. The armoured chaps were very nice about it and gave us more poses than we expected. From there we continued to wander about the centre of town, checking back in at a view overlooking the Forum to see the spot it is believed that Julius Caesar met his sticky end. We ended the night with a trip to Trevi at night.
We had hoped to take in a mass given by the Pope, which occurs regularly on Wednesdays. Unfortunately His Holiness was in the Middle East that week so we missed out. But as luck would have it we ran into a young American priest-in-training who offered to take us on a tour of the Vatican with a couple of friends of his sister's from the States, as well as get us into the Catacombs, which one normally must book well in advance! We all got along famously -- the two girls from Atlanta reminding me very much of the Willicks back home and their Redeemer Bible Church crowd; the phrases "God not just good, He's FABULOUS!" and "Jazz Hands for Jesus!" came to mind.No photography we could muster would do justice to La Pieta, the lighting and protective glass make it nigh impossible. The tour our priest friend took us one was quite informative, such as telling us that the chapel is designed in a kind of sliding scale so that everything looks proportional: the higher up you look, the larger the statue or lettering has been made so it looks even with the stonework closer to you on the floor. Speaking of the floor, there's a patch of marble at the entrance that is just about the rarest and most expensive material on the planet. And I stood right on top of it. Yay.
The trade-off on the informative nature of the priest's tour was the fact that it was heavily faith-based; it was practically a sermon moreso than a history lesson and got a little tedious at times. I made a mental note not to mention that, practicing Catholics as we are, we had been married on a golf course by a woman.
Interesting tidbit about the spectacular canopy. At the bases of the columns are crests with have rather contorted faces; these are representations of the agony of childbirth that Bernini put in. He also discretely placed a representation of his own rosary lying on top of one of the bases.
This statue of my namesake saint, Andrew, made B and me giggle when we heard a rather humourous take on his martyrdom and crucifiction as told by our priest friend. St. Andrew was very positive and upbeat, apparently, and went to his execution essentially shouting to the masses, "HEY! Hey! Guess what! I've got this really awesome friend named Jesus who's the best guy ever and now I'm gonna die just like HE did! Except a little slanty." B said, "Y'know, that really does sound like you."Another little tidbit of info I liked was a massive sculpture involving a host of Virtues, i.e. female figures representing things like Charity and Chastity and the like. This particular one was commissioned during the time of Henry VIII's split from Rome; in retaliation, the sculptor depicted the virtue of Truth with her foot atop a globe of the Earth, with it's big toe directly on top of The Tower of London.
After a light lunch with our new friends, we said goodbye and toddled along to the last few sights we wanted to visit or revisit, including the Spanish Steps (above), Piazza Navono (just another obelisk with some lion fountains, really), and one last look at Trevi. We dragged ourselves to the bus stop to take us to the airport, where B and Toby summed up our feelings . . .
After a light lunch with our new friends, we said goodbye and toddled along to the last few sights we wanted to visit or revisit, including the Spanish Steps (above), Piazza Navono (just another obelisk with some lion fountains, really), and one last look at Trevi. We dragged ourselves to the bus stop to take us to the airport, where B and Toby summed up our feelings . . .Thursday, May 28, 2009
Break from Italy - Recent Activities
I take a quick break from recording our Italian experiences to tell of some more recent activity in London. Brianne and I have been awfully busy with comings and goings in the last two weeks!
The major "going" was the departure of our dear flatmate Matt, who trundled off to Spain for several weeks before heading back to Australia for the rest of the year. He's been the best friend we've had in our building, developing a wonderful rapport of shared interests in The Office and Scrubs, witty banter and purile practical jokes. We kept each other in stitches most of the time, and we're sad to see him go. The silver lining is he's storing a lot of his bulkier luggage with us during his time in Spain and will return to stay with us a couple of days in June before heading Down Under.
As a final group activity, the three of us went to see Spring Awakening, a Tony Award-winning musical based on the play of the same name which was soon to close it's London engagement. The show was fantastic, a mixture of bold theatrical themes of innocence and sexual discovery in 19th century Germany, infused with a modern rock score.
We've also had two arrivals in the last few days. Our pals Christine and Darrell from Ottawa are staying in another room of our building for the next few days, taking in the sights of London before heading off on a bus tour of Scotland. I did my best to give accurate directions for them to follow to our door, and after a consultation with the all-seeing all-knowing Wifey and a revision, it seemed to work out okay! We've got The Tower and Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese to look forward to.
Brianne and I also met up with family friends Linda and Jim Collacott of Niagara Falls. We met them for lunch near my office and received a lovely care package from home by way of Mom. Things we just can't get here, like NeoCitran and Swedish Berries. Yay! So nice to have faces from home.
For the past week or so, B and I have been in Britain's Got Talent mode, checking out the semi-finals each night. This is of course the showcase for the "worldwide media darling" Susan Boyle. As nice a story as she makes, we're more interested in the street dance groups which have also made it to the finals.
Check out "Diversity" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pg3fvanDDc
and "Flawless" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MamSKGd4y28&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GrOMLylvhQ&feature=related
More to come on Italy soon!
The major "going" was the departure of our dear flatmate Matt, who trundled off to Spain for several weeks before heading back to Australia for the rest of the year. He's been the best friend we've had in our building, developing a wonderful rapport of shared interests in The Office and Scrubs, witty banter and purile practical jokes. We kept each other in stitches most of the time, and we're sad to see him go. The silver lining is he's storing a lot of his bulkier luggage with us during his time in Spain and will return to stay with us a couple of days in June before heading Down Under.
As a final group activity, the three of us went to see Spring Awakening, a Tony Award-winning musical based on the play of the same name which was soon to close it's London engagement. The show was fantastic, a mixture of bold theatrical themes of innocence and sexual discovery in 19th century Germany, infused with a modern rock score.
We've also had two arrivals in the last few days. Our pals Christine and Darrell from Ottawa are staying in another room of our building for the next few days, taking in the sights of London before heading off on a bus tour of Scotland. I did my best to give accurate directions for them to follow to our door, and after a consultation with the all-seeing all-knowing Wifey and a revision, it seemed to work out okay! We've got The Tower and Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese to look forward to.
Brianne and I also met up with family friends Linda and Jim Collacott of Niagara Falls. We met them for lunch near my office and received a lovely care package from home by way of Mom. Things we just can't get here, like NeoCitran and Swedish Berries. Yay! So nice to have faces from home.
For the past week or so, B and I have been in Britain's Got Talent mode, checking out the semi-finals each night. This is of course the showcase for the "worldwide media darling" Susan Boyle. As nice a story as she makes, we're more interested in the street dance groups which have also made it to the finals.
Check out "Diversity" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pg3fvanDDc
and "Flawless" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MamSKGd4y28&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GrOMLylvhQ&feature=related
More to come on Italy soon!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
When the moon hits your eye . . . punch him back
We hopped an early train from Rome to Naples, a reasonably comfortable two and a half hour journey. Once we arrived at our destination, however, we quickly formulated the opinion that Napoli will henceforth be referred to in our memories as "The purgatory through which one must pass to get to Amalfi." The city immediately gave the impression of being dirtier, more cramped, and less friendly than Rome, in direct accordance with what our Rome hostel mates had warned. And clever me, I had pre-booked two nights there, thinking it was a decent home base for visiting Pompeii -- which it was, but offered nothing else to recommend itself. Luckily, the hostel we stayed at was top-notch with a very friendly and helpful owner, and we managed to spend all our time of the next two days out of town.
Continuing in our good fortune at finding fellow countrymen abroad, Brianne ran into two young guys from Brampton purchasing their tickets to Pompeii. We joined them and an American couple currently based in Germany for a trek into the historic ruins in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. One of the Canuck lads had a passionate enthusiasm for Pompeii and offered to be our guide for the day. As it turned out, enthusiasm does not always equal factual accuracy; he was positive the mountain dominating the landscape was too close to be the real Vesuvius, we completely passed by the House of the Faun that he was looking for because the characterestic statue denoting it wasn't as large as he expected it to be from the pictures he'd seen, and the preserved counters with holes in them (see below) were described by him as "public toilets," rather than being -- as we learned from a guidebook afterwards -- "food pots." Doesn't matter, though, he was a terrific guy and we all had a great time.
The ruins of Pompeii are expansive; you're told it's a "city," of course, but the reality of the size doesn't really hit you until you're exploring it. We wandered in and out of dwellings, checked out the amphitheatre, and marvelled at mosaics and frescoes. Our admittedly morbid group goal, however, was to make sure we "saw some dead people." We were searching for the casts of the remains of those who had not escaped the wrath of the volcano. We found them towards the end of our days, and they are eerily fascinating.
One site within the city that was very popular was the brothel. Seriously, people were lined up outside, it was hilarious, but of course we were there too. Within the recently excavated and restored edifice were separate rooms with stone beds in them, and over the doors to each room were frescoes which quite clearly depicted . . . shall we say, "menu options?" What happens in Pompeii, stays in Pompeii. Following our long and dusty exploration of the ruins, we enjoyed the company of our North American friends over some delectable local pizza.
The next day we made our way down to the docks to hop a ferry out to the Isle of Capri. We had read amazing things in the Lonely Planet guide about the beauty of the island, particularly of The Blue Cove, a grotto accessible only by row boat with hauntingly blue water due to light refraction and white sand. We opted for a motor boat tour of around the entire island shore, with the Cove at the end. The tour was well worth it, showing the beauty of the craggy mountain cliffs and mirrored water and inlet grottoes, all the while inspiring the theme from Jurassic Park to run through our heads.
Once we made it to the Blue Cove, however, we realized it was a complete rip-off. They charge you for the row boat into the cave PLUS cave entry, you're only in there for about 4 minutes, you can barely take a recognizable picture (see below), and all the while your row boat captain is belting out bad opera in the echoing darkness trying to drum up a tip! Sheesh! Well, live and learn.
After regaining our land legs, we ventured up to the main town of the island. Ventured? More like "scaled." It was a 25 minute uphill walk to Capri Town. Along the way we kept passing people on their way down who so compassionately assured us that we were LESS than half-way there. Still, we met a couple of gals from Chicago with whom we completed our climb, took in the admittedly astounding views from the summit, and had a little lunch. Capri Town is packed to the gills with high-end retailers (Gucci, Cartier, etc) and five-star hotels, so there was a lot of just window shopping on our part. We made our way back down and indulged in some gelato which was thoroughly earned, then said goodbye to our Chicago gals, hung out on very rocky beach for a little while and took the ferry back to Napoli.
One thing that made us both laugh: when walking back to our hostel, we saw in the window of a McDonalds a picture on the menu for a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich entitled "McToast."
Continuing in our good fortune at finding fellow countrymen abroad, Brianne ran into two young guys from Brampton purchasing their tickets to Pompeii. We joined them and an American couple currently based in Germany for a trek into the historic ruins in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. One of the Canuck lads had a passionate enthusiasm for Pompeii and offered to be our guide for the day. As it turned out, enthusiasm does not always equal factual accuracy; he was positive the mountain dominating the landscape was too close to be the real Vesuvius, we completely passed by the House of the Faun that he was looking for because the characterestic statue denoting it wasn't as large as he expected it to be from the pictures he'd seen, and the preserved counters with holes in them (see below) were described by him as "public toilets," rather than being -- as we learned from a guidebook afterwards -- "food pots." Doesn't matter, though, he was a terrific guy and we all had a great time.
The ruins of Pompeii are expansive; you're told it's a "city," of course, but the reality of the size doesn't really hit you until you're exploring it. We wandered in and out of dwellings, checked out the amphitheatre, and marvelled at mosaics and frescoes. Our admittedly morbid group goal, however, was to make sure we "saw some dead people." We were searching for the casts of the remains of those who had not escaped the wrath of the volcano. We found them towards the end of our days, and they are eerily fascinating.
One site within the city that was very popular was the brothel. Seriously, people were lined up outside, it was hilarious, but of course we were there too. Within the recently excavated and restored edifice were separate rooms with stone beds in them, and over the doors to each room were frescoes which quite clearly depicted . . . shall we say, "menu options?" What happens in Pompeii, stays in Pompeii. Following our long and dusty exploration of the ruins, we enjoyed the company of our North American friends over some delectable local pizza.The next day we made our way down to the docks to hop a ferry out to the Isle of Capri. We had read amazing things in the Lonely Planet guide about the beauty of the island, particularly of The Blue Cove, a grotto accessible only by row boat with hauntingly blue water due to light refraction and white sand. We opted for a motor boat tour of around the entire island shore, with the Cove at the end. The tour was well worth it, showing the beauty of the craggy mountain cliffs and mirrored water and inlet grottoes, all the while inspiring the theme from Jurassic Park to run through our heads.
Once we made it to the Blue Cove, however, we realized it was a complete rip-off. They charge you for the row boat into the cave PLUS cave entry, you're only in there for about 4 minutes, you can barely take a recognizable picture (see below), and all the while your row boat captain is belting out bad opera in the echoing darkness trying to drum up a tip! Sheesh! Well, live and learn.
After regaining our land legs, we ventured up to the main town of the island. Ventured? More like "scaled." It was a 25 minute uphill walk to Capri Town. Along the way we kept passing people on their way down who so compassionately assured us that we were LESS than half-way there. Still, we met a couple of gals from Chicago with whom we completed our climb, took in the admittedly astounding views from the summit, and had a little lunch. Capri Town is packed to the gills with high-end retailers (Gucci, Cartier, etc) and five-star hotels, so there was a lot of just window shopping on our part. We made our way back down and indulged in some gelato which was thoroughly earned, then said goodbye to our Chicago gals, hung out on very rocky beach for a little while and took the ferry back to Napoli.One thing that made us both laugh: when walking back to our hostel, we saw in the window of a McDonalds a picture on the menu for a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich entitled "McToast."
Monday, May 18, 2009
There are no cats in America (but there are Canadians in Rome!)
Hurray! We landed in Rome and right away we were off. The weather was fantastic and we arrived at the main bus and train terminal around noon. Our hostel was only a short walk away and located in a building that we would later come to know as ‘The standard hostel building’; mainly a dark and worn out building but go 2 or more stories above the street and it’s a cosy world of bunk beds in shared dorms and a tiny kitchen that everyone will attempt and succeed to fit into during free pasta night. After setting down our bags and getting directions from the front desk, we set out into the big, wide and sunny world of Rome. And somehow almost immediately Andrew was able t capture a man on a vespa going by. Eddie Izzard entered into our heads and it became a running joke for us – as always. After about twenty minutes of walking we ended up in a front of a very large, white building with statues at every crest. We later found out this was the monument for the unknown soldier and is also one of the most hated sights for the locals as they consider it an eyesore. There was also a giant column and ruins that looked as there had been many pillars. It was around this point that I spotted the Coliseum off in the distance. Andrew however did not spot it as he was still checking out the buildings around us. When he wanted to stop to check the map I moved him slightly to the right – pointing his head in the direction of the Coliseum – and asked him if we really needed to do that. The next couple of seconds were he thought about it, spotted the Coliseum and then recognized it for what it was was beautiful. I wished I had filmed it on camera. We bought our tickets and made our way in, hassled by offers of tour guides all the way. It looks exactly like the pictures and footage I have seen of it on t.v except smaller on the inside than you would think.. It is a pity that all the marble and statues that would have once decorated it have been stripped off or fallen and destroyed through the centuries. There were plenty of people walking around but it wasn’t an uncomfortable number as May is still not high season. As we walked around and paused to take pictures we were approached by a middle aged couple to take their picture and get ours taken in return. When I handed over the camera to the woman and posed with Andrew she lifted it up and very elfishly called out ‘Say Sex!” They were Canadians from British Columbia with a tour and they had spunk. I like people with spunk. 
After a few hours of wandering around the Coliseum we moved onto the joint sight of the Palatine, which is right across from the Coliseum. I don’t know what it means, but what it is is a hill on which once rested the most wealthy addresses in all of Rome. Down the slope within the same area was the Roman Forum or as we actors refer to it: Where Julius Caesar uttered “Et Tu Brute?” and someone else said “Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears!” By this point we had spent almost six hours looking at ruins, so you could say we were all ruined out.
The following day we woke up bright and early (and a bit bleary eyed) to go to the Vatican. We took the Metro which was much wider and more roomy than the tube in London, and arrived only a 10 minute walk away from Vatican City at around 8:30 a.m. The beauty of arriving so early meant that there were no crowds and some of the cleaners were still at work. La Pieta was still being wiped down by one of the few people who are permitted behind her glass protection and there was a zamboni cleaning all the marble floors in preparation for the thousands of people who would soon be walking all over them. Immediately we made our way to the summit of St. Peters Dome – a massive undertaking for someone (me) who is not the most fond of heights. We took the savings of 2 euros and climbed the stairs rather than taking the lift. At the first opening we were still within the dome and immediately over the canopy of the high alter. Directly below our feet were the six feet tall letters that quoted “You are Peter…” and around us were the amazing mosaics that can be seen from the ground but from where we were standing were HUGE. From there we climbed even higher and onto a slant to get to the peak where we were greeted with a view of Rome in the morning. It’s blue and dusty. And white and brown. And loud and ancient. You have to see it for yourself. After a very careful descent we took a stroll through the Basilica and then made our way to a lunch of Pizza and pasta. After lunch it was off to the Vatican museums. (Note: If the Basilica is free then they really make up their weight in this fare – it is 14 euros each to enter the museums and there is no special price if all you want to see is the Sistine Chapel – it’s at the end of the tour and no sooner.) Although the tour takes you through artwork of all the Italian masters, Botticelli, Da Vinci, the Roman statues that stood all across Rome, amazing frescoes and mosaics, everyone is really just there to see the Chapel. There is no point trying to take a picture of it – for one there are the guards stationed everywhere constantly repeating ‘No Pictures’ and secondly it is so ill lit to preserve the paint that no camera, no matter how expensive would be able to do it justice. As per before, the pictures in your art books are probably the clearest you will see. With that done we headed through the streets of Rome to stop at the Piazza Navona (Gelato!), the Pantheon (big but boring) and the Trevi Fountain (stunning, just stunning.) All that was left to do was topple into bed and sleep. Don’t ask me how many stairs I had climbed in those first 2 days – I had stopped counting when I reached one thousand.
After a few hours of wandering around the Coliseum we moved onto the joint sight of the Palatine, which is right across from the Coliseum. I don’t know what it means, but what it is is a hill on which once rested the most wealthy addresses in all of Rome. Down the slope within the same area was the Roman Forum or as we actors refer to it: Where Julius Caesar uttered “Et Tu Brute?” and someone else said “Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears!” By this point we had spent almost six hours looking at ruins, so you could say we were all ruined out.The following day we woke up bright and early (and a bit bleary eyed) to go to the Vatican. We took the Metro which was much wider and more roomy than the tube in London, and arrived only a 10 minute walk away from Vatican City at around 8:30 a.m. The beauty of arriving so early meant that there were no crowds and some of the cleaners were still at work. La Pieta was still being wiped down by one of the few people who are permitted behind her glass protection and there was a zamboni cleaning all the marble floors in preparation for the thousands of people who would soon be walking all over them. Immediately we made our way to the summit of St. Peters Dome – a massive undertaking for someone (me) who is not the most fond of heights. We took the savings of 2 euros and climbed the stairs rather than taking the lift. At the first opening we were still within the dome and immediately over the canopy of the high alter. Directly below our feet were the six feet tall letters that quoted “You are Peter…” and around us were the amazing mosaics that can be seen from the ground but from where we were standing were HUGE. From there we climbed even higher and onto a slant to get to the peak where we were greeted with a view of Rome in the morning. It’s blue and dusty. And white and brown. And loud and ancient. You have to see it for yourself. After a very careful descent we took a stroll through the Basilica and then made our way to a lunch of Pizza and pasta. After lunch it was off to the Vatican museums. (Note: If the Basilica is free then they really make up their weight in this fare – it is 14 euros each to enter the museums and there is no special price if all you want to see is the Sistine Chapel – it’s at the end of the tour and no sooner.) Although the tour takes you through artwork of all the Italian masters, Botticelli, Da Vinci, the Roman statues that stood all across Rome, amazing frescoes and mosaics, everyone is really just there to see the Chapel. There is no point trying to take a picture of it – for one there are the guards stationed everywhere constantly repeating ‘No Pictures’ and secondly it is so ill lit to preserve the paint that no camera, no matter how expensive would be able to do it justice. As per before, the pictures in your art books are probably the clearest you will see. With that done we headed through the streets of Rome to stop at the Piazza Navona (Gelato!), the Pantheon (big but boring) and the Trevi Fountain (stunning, just stunning.) All that was left to do was topple into bed and sleep. Don’t ask me how many stairs I had climbed in those first 2 days – I had stopped counting when I reached one thousand.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Treading the Boards
The weather in Olde London Towne has actually been glorious for the past week and a half, and while most of the daylight hours are spent working, we do try to make the most of the weekends. This past Sunday Brianne and I went down to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre on the south bank of the Thames for their annual free-entry day in honour of the Bard's birthday. Times being what they are, we're always on the lookout for any activity with the word FREE in the title.
We met up around noon with our pals Clare and Jonathan at The Swan, a lovely restaurant we've blogged on before. It's a little bar and brasserie attached to the Globe, offering lovely light fare for theatre patrons and the public. Brianne and Jonathan went for the soup of the day which B always raves about, while I tried a new English traditional dish, a pork pie. Tasty all around, if not the most filling.
We queued up after lunch and entered the Globe Exhibit (something that would've been £8 each any other day, huzzah!). We made our way through halls depicting the history of the Theatre and of Shakespeare, touching on costuming, sets, props, daily life, and the endeavour to build the modern theatre in the first place. Interesting, but a bit dry, and I was glad we were getting it for free. At the end of the educational halls, we came upon an actor portraying the young Shakespeare himself, giving away little prizes for those who could give him a line-reading of his work. Clare and Brianne earned little Globe-themed buttons, a fun trinket.
We made our way into the central gathering area of the exhibit, decked out in bunting with many activities and demonstrations all around. There was an opera singer on one stage and a combat troupe in another corner (not as good, I felt, as our combatant friends back in Toronto).
We poked around in the gift shop for a while, laughing once again at the plush Plague Rat dolls. There was also a video booth area where they were trying to set a world record by having every patron recorded reading two lines of Sonnet 29. All four of us did our part in this attempt.
The highlight of the day came at the very end. We aspiring actors all signed up for a workshop which gave us the chance to recite lines of Shakespeare on the actual stage of the Globe in front of the rest of the patrons! Everyone was given the option of reading from pre-printed excerpts, but we were allowed to perform anything we had from memory. It was an awesome feeling to step forth onto the stage (like every other stage, it felt smaller when you're ON it) and let 'er rip. Brianne did a piece from The Comedy of Errors, while I did a portion of the prologue to Henry V. It was a wonderful thrill to cap the day, dreaming of how great it would be to make such a playful game a reality. One day . . .
We met up around noon with our pals Clare and Jonathan at The Swan, a lovely restaurant we've blogged on before. It's a little bar and brasserie attached to the Globe, offering lovely light fare for theatre patrons and the public. Brianne and Jonathan went for the soup of the day which B always raves about, while I tried a new English traditional dish, a pork pie. Tasty all around, if not the most filling.
We queued up after lunch and entered the Globe Exhibit (something that would've been £8 each any other day, huzzah!). We made our way through halls depicting the history of the Theatre and of Shakespeare, touching on costuming, sets, props, daily life, and the endeavour to build the modern theatre in the first place. Interesting, but a bit dry, and I was glad we were getting it for free. At the end of the educational halls, we came upon an actor portraying the young Shakespeare himself, giving away little prizes for those who could give him a line-reading of his work. Clare and Brianne earned little Globe-themed buttons, a fun trinket.
We made our way into the central gathering area of the exhibit, decked out in bunting with many activities and demonstrations all around. There was an opera singer on one stage and a combat troupe in another corner (not as good, I felt, as our combatant friends back in Toronto).
We poked around in the gift shop for a while, laughing once again at the plush Plague Rat dolls. There was also a video booth area where they were trying to set a world record by having every patron recorded reading two lines of Sonnet 29. All four of us did our part in this attempt.
The highlight of the day came at the very end. We aspiring actors all signed up for a workshop which gave us the chance to recite lines of Shakespeare on the actual stage of the Globe in front of the rest of the patrons! Everyone was given the option of reading from pre-printed excerpts, but we were allowed to perform anything we had from memory. It was an awesome feeling to step forth onto the stage (like every other stage, it felt smaller when you're ON it) and let 'er rip. Brianne did a piece from The Comedy of Errors, while I did a portion of the prologue to Henry V. It was a wonderful thrill to cap the day, dreaming of how great it would be to make such a playful game a reality. One day . . .
Friday, April 17, 2009
When Did This Become A Beauty Contest?
I have a problem: I am not a visible minority. Nor, am I 'at least 5 foot 10 inches' or 'startlingly beautiful.' What does that even mean? Luckily I still have work in theatre right now, but as I look around for future work (preferably Shakespeare in the summer and a large Panto for Christmas) all I can find on public posts are for the following.
1. Looking for Asian woman age range 50-70 to look confused and then happy.
2. For outdoor performance of Midsummer Nights Dream. Helena. Female age 20-30. Must be at least 5 foot 10
3. For Music Video or Promo videoor Feature Film. Gorgeous, Startlingly beautiful girls needed. Modelesque\
4. (My favourite) For television series. Any age range female. Must be ugly or crone like. No pretty girls please.
Damn, if only I wasn't in the mid-range of looks. Here I am, stuck at the absurd height of five foot four and with failry average looks. If only I had been born slightly uglier - I would have the theatre job market set right now. Hmm, I wonder - what if I were to go in and black out some of my teeth, wear a bit of a fat suit and put lots of pimples on - would that help? There's nothing I can do about the height. I tried putting on my tallest pair of heels and even then I barely stand at five foot seven.
As for the startingly beautifyl looks - I tried cutting out a magazine ad and taping it to my face, but I don't think that's what they had in mind with their ad.
The real issue hear is - what if someone who was able to make the works come off the page and was perfect in every single way except for their height; does it really matter? Do people worry about this style of casting when they are hiring Kate Winslet or Angela Lansbury? I can just imagine that casting conversation.
1: Sir, we have Angela Lansbury here for you to see, we thought she would be perfect for the job.
2: Why did you think that?
1: Well, you said you wanted an older actress with lots of umbridge, someone who had a background in song and dance and is comfortable on camera. Someone people would recognize and respect.
2. That's all well and good, but she's too short. Is it possible to dig up Gloria Swanson? I always liked her look....
1. Looking for Asian woman age range 50-70 to look confused and then happy.
2. For outdoor performance of Midsummer Nights Dream. Helena. Female age 20-30. Must be at least 5 foot 10
3. For Music Video or Promo videoor Feature Film. Gorgeous, Startlingly beautiful girls needed. Modelesque\
4. (My favourite) For television series. Any age range female. Must be ugly or crone like. No pretty girls please.
Damn, if only I wasn't in the mid-range of looks. Here I am, stuck at the absurd height of five foot four and with failry average looks. If only I had been born slightly uglier - I would have the theatre job market set right now. Hmm, I wonder - what if I were to go in and black out some of my teeth, wear a bit of a fat suit and put lots of pimples on - would that help? There's nothing I can do about the height. I tried putting on my tallest pair of heels and even then I barely stand at five foot seven.
As for the startingly beautifyl looks - I tried cutting out a magazine ad and taping it to my face, but I don't think that's what they had in mind with their ad.
The real issue hear is - what if someone who was able to make the works come off the page and was perfect in every single way except for their height; does it really matter? Do people worry about this style of casting when they are hiring Kate Winslet or Angela Lansbury? I can just imagine that casting conversation.
1: Sir, we have Angela Lansbury here for you to see, we thought she would be perfect for the job.
2: Why did you think that?
1: Well, you said you wanted an older actress with lots of umbridge, someone who had a background in song and dance and is comfortable on camera. Someone people would recognize and respect.
2. That's all well and good, but she's too short. Is it possible to dig up Gloria Swanson? I always liked her look....
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Supercalifradgalisticexpi...Oh, I Give Up!
As a little treat, Andrew and I went to see Mary Poppins playing in Cardiff. Now, you may ask, 'Why Cardiff?" Well, cause that is where it was playing. It was a simple 3 hour bus ride from London (with the appropriate amount of pick n' mix to snack upon) and then a short treck out to our Bed and Breakfast. Here's the thing: there was a large and very important match going on, so most of the best places were booked up. According to the booking info we should have been at a lovely three star B&B. It was however, barely passable as a one star. Andrew may still cringe at this, but I try and laugh it off as it was only one night. The place was clean but the linen was very thin. The springs on one of our twin beds (yes, some double rooms have twin beds) stuck through the mattress and there were lip stains on the glasses in the bathroom. Definately one of the worst B&B's I have ever been to and anyone who rated it otherwise must have been severely drunk or high. 
Luckily it was a lovely day so we went on a little walk around Cardiff. We went to the Red Dragon centre right near the Millenium Theatre where the show would be. There was a bowling alley, a Dr. Who exhibition and several restaurants. We decided on the one that was advertising 2 for 1 fajitas as it had been FOREVER since we had had some. Sitting down to our meal we are greated by a distinctly North American accent. The young man is originally from the U.S but has lived in the U.K for a long time and is wondering what on earth we are doing in Cardiff. Chatting ensues along with the most lovely fajitas I have seen. Bliss. On to walking around the pier and then into the theatre. 
Cool theatre. One of the best I have ever been into and the seats were perfect. Everything was built with a strong incline so that no matter where you sat you didn't have to worry about some really tall guy sitting in front of you and blocking your view. Right cracking good show, with some amazing special effects and set pieces. I missed the full story line of the Disney film as well as some of the songs that were cut (I love to laugh, sister suffragette) but all in all a good show. Also very cool was that everything was written out in both english and welsh.
Cool theatre. One of the best I have ever been into and the seats were perfect. Everything was built with a strong incline so that no matter where you sat you didn't have to worry about some really tall guy sitting in front of you and blocking your view. Right cracking good show, with some amazing special effects and set pieces. I missed the full story line of the Disney film as well as some of the songs that were cut (I love to laugh, sister suffragette) but all in all a good show. Also very cool was that everything was written out in both english and welsh.The next day we went bowling and I lost amazingly to Andrew. (Several of my balls went into the gutter and I ended up having the gutter ramp put up as by gum i was going to hit some pins! ) Then a quick look around the outside of Cardiff Castle (no time to look around) and onto our bus to go back home. Andrew and I napped most of the way after an awful sleep in the B&B and swearing that we would investigate their star system before booking elsewhere...
Happy Easter!!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Castle in the Rain
Our dear friend Matt hasn't had as much opportunity us to venture beyond the confines of Olde London Towne, and so we were pleased to take a day-trip with him out to Leeds Castle . . . which, of course, is in the county of Kent just an hour south-east of London and NOT in the city of Leeds, UK. That's a mistake you can only make once, because your significant other will have murdered you after schlepping to the wrong place. When we left Victoria Coach Station, the driver made a joke about Brianne fussing over Matt making sure he had his ticket in order, saying "It's not every day you find a mother like that."
In addition to the wild local birds on the grounds, there is also an aviary of tropical birds such as parrots, toucans, and macaws. They also keep a range of birds of prey like owls and vultures. We saw a rather up-close exhibition of these birds, as it was too rainy at the time to have them flying about.
We braved the hedge maze, one of the best I've ever seen. After we all got a bit separated and lost, Matt made it to the centre first and alternately taunted us and guided us to his location. The exit of the maze goes through and underground grotto of mood-lighting, sculptures and sound effects.
We also revisited our childhood silliness on the kid's jungle gym. They sure know how to construct them here. A lovely trip despite the rain.
Friday, March 27, 2009
If I Were David Starkey
My little video clip that Andrew and I made in the Isle of Sheppey just as we were wrapping up our ancestral search. I didn't have a script or time to rehearse, but I did ask him to have a second take.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Wild Night Out In Sheerness
I preface by saying what a wonderful trip it was out to the Isle of Sheppey, what a great thrill it was to delve family roots and search for evidence of the Tucker clan in this corner of the globe. I would recommend our bed-and-breakfast to anyone visiting Sheerness. The only problem is . . . there's really not a whole lot out in Sheerness to go and see. At least there wasn't at this time of year. I imagine that the beach is a popular distination for the residents of the county of Kent in the summertime, but in the pseudo-spring it's a bit too chill to be a real thrill.
Nevertheless, Brianne and I had the will and the drive to give Sheerness a chance for an evening on the town. After our immense trudge all the way the hill to Minster and all the way back down to our digs in Halfway, we rested our weary bones at the B&B before deciding that what we really wanted to do was head back into Sheerness -- which we assumed was the city centre hub of activity because of all it's shops and attractions, whereas Halfway was essentially just an intersection -- and find a decent restaurant to sit down in and then go BOWLING! There's an arcade complex next to the beach which was advertised in it's windows as open from "10 'til close," and we thought a couple frames of bowling would be the perfect essoteric activity for our weekend.
We managed to find out when the bus left the Halfway intersection for Sheerness centre and hopped on, getting in to Sheerness just about dusk. From wandering about the now nearly deserted main streets we discovered two things: 1) The bowling alley was already CLOSED, apparently since about 5pm (on a SATURDAY?!) because it didn't have any official bookings.
2) There is a dearth of sit-down restaurants in town; everything is take-away, and we didn't want that. I guess either no one can afford rent on a space for seats, or they all try to take advantage of beach-going tourists who want to take kebabs and tandoori back to the surf.
So we were stymied. The reasons for coming into town had evaporated. The night was not without it's own "diversion," though. We witnessed a rather harrowing domestic disturbance -- a guy and girl having an absolute bloody-murder screaming fit punctuated with the guy grabbing the girl and shoving her into walls along the street. We were shocked, but continued to observe them from a safe distance after a local shopkeeper had alerted the police, just in case anything really bad went down. We lost sight of them after a time and decided it was time to get out of there. Managed to find out from a bas driver that there were no more buses heading back our way! This was actually just funny to us at this point, and we laughed at the fact that we just had to walk about 30 minutes to get back to Halfway after all of this. On the way out of Sheerness, we just happened to pass the police station -- out in front of which were the fight couple having a tearful make-up session in the presence of a cop! Un-frickin'-believable.
After this whole adventure, we discovered that Halfway seemed to be "The Place" for a sit-down meal, as the Chinese restaurant on the corner was a hive of activity. We had a great meal, picked up night-cap from the corner store, and flopped on the bed back at the B&B to watch the movie The Fifth Element until our eyes wouldn't stay open anymore.
All in all, a grand excursion. I can't wait for our next trip out, which will take us to Leeds Castle this Saturday. We're going with out Aussie flatmate Matt, and I hope it will be fun, despite the fact that the weather reports are a bit foreboding.
Nevertheless, Brianne and I had the will and the drive to give Sheerness a chance for an evening on the town. After our immense trudge all the way the hill to Minster and all the way back down to our digs in Halfway, we rested our weary bones at the B&B before deciding that what we really wanted to do was head back into Sheerness -- which we assumed was the city centre hub of activity because of all it's shops and attractions, whereas Halfway was essentially just an intersection -- and find a decent restaurant to sit down in and then go BOWLING! There's an arcade complex next to the beach which was advertised in it's windows as open from "10 'til close," and we thought a couple frames of bowling would be the perfect essoteric activity for our weekend.
We managed to find out when the bus left the Halfway intersection for Sheerness centre and hopped on, getting in to Sheerness just about dusk. From wandering about the now nearly deserted main streets we discovered two things: 1) The bowling alley was already CLOSED, apparently since about 5pm (on a SATURDAY?!) because it didn't have any official bookings.
2) There is a dearth of sit-down restaurants in town; everything is take-away, and we didn't want that. I guess either no one can afford rent on a space for seats, or they all try to take advantage of beach-going tourists who want to take kebabs and tandoori back to the surf.
So we were stymied. The reasons for coming into town had evaporated. The night was not without it's own "diversion," though. We witnessed a rather harrowing domestic disturbance -- a guy and girl having an absolute bloody-murder screaming fit punctuated with the guy grabbing the girl and shoving her into walls along the street. We were shocked, but continued to observe them from a safe distance after a local shopkeeper had alerted the police, just in case anything really bad went down. We lost sight of them after a time and decided it was time to get out of there. Managed to find out from a bas driver that there were no more buses heading back our way! This was actually just funny to us at this point, and we laughed at the fact that we just had to walk about 30 minutes to get back to Halfway after all of this. On the way out of Sheerness, we just happened to pass the police station -- out in front of which were the fight couple having a tearful make-up session in the presence of a cop! Un-frickin'-believable.
After this whole adventure, we discovered that Halfway seemed to be "The Place" for a sit-down meal, as the Chinese restaurant on the corner was a hive of activity. We had a great meal, picked up night-cap from the corner store, and flopped on the bed back at the B&B to watch the movie The Fifth Element until our eyes wouldn't stay open anymore.
All in all, a grand excursion. I can't wait for our next trip out, which will take us to Leeds Castle this Saturday. We're going with out Aussie flatmate Matt, and I hope it will be fun, despite the fact that the weather reports are a bit foreboding.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Chasing Roots
It’s a magical journey in the simplest of ways to return to a place that you have never been – but where your family once lived. Especially when that place is a town on a different continent and the family that lived there goes back almost 150 years. Yes, I suppose there are a great deal of families that can trace their heritage much further back in time, but for us Canadians going back that far can prove difficult. And so our journey began leaving for Kent on a gloomy Saturday morning from the big bustle that is Victoria station in London. I doubt my ancestors ever had to put up with such noise and populace. It was an hour and a half long journey to get to our connection to get out to the Isle of Sheppey. The journey takes you through the countryside and has a quick stop in Rochester (right in view of the lovely castle in the town centre). Then there is a quick transfer of trains – from ours that had 8 carriages at least to a much smaller and less luxurious one that had 2. The Isle of Sheppey is surrounded by water but it looks to be not much wider than the Ottawa River. Indeed, the Thames at times seems choppier than the waters that connect the Isle to the mainland. Hop off at the final stop and you are in the town of Sheerness, with only a five minute walk to the coastline of the sea. Beautiful. By this time the sun had decided to peer its head out and decided it might have a day out and about. We took a taxi to our Bed and Breakfast which was located at an intersection called Halfway House. My guess is that this intersection was called such as it is almost exactly halfway between the town of Sheerness and that of Minster. It was also a five minute walk away from the cemetery where we had found the names of Francis and Elisabeth Tucker listed. (Yeah for the internet!) Nice clean Bed and Breakfasts always make a difference – and ours was especially nice and appreciated. Almost immediately we set down our bags and made our way to the cemetery. After speaking with one of the men that tends the property, we realised that we only needed to search one section of the cemetery as it was all relatively chronological in its arrangement. The cemetery had opened in 1850 and Francis had passed away in 1871 – that was only 20 years of ground to cover as apposed to the entire place. Andrew and I decided to start at the beginning, splitting ourselves to search a different side of the path. I would be on the right with Andrew on the left, each of us meeting up after completing a section to compare notes. I noted that some plots that were side by side varied in dates from 1860 to 1950 – most likely the plot having been bought and paid for long before being filled. Most graves were marked by a standard headstone set upright and the area around it with a border of stone or marble. In some cases the names and dates were very clear to read which made my job very easy as I need only have a glance and then pass by them. Others had the names worn off in some areas from either weather or the mass amounts of ivy that was growing all over the place. In these cases I would have to balance myself around the headstone, trying not to topple anything to get a closer look at the names or dates, or if there was no headstone at all or it had been buried under earth or toppled or broken then I would have to get on my hands and knees and scrap away at the growth in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the name. The day had become sunny and I had already taken off my extra sweater, so I did not mind at all the idea of searching for ours in this quiet and beautiful cemetery, but after an hour my eyes were tired and needed a rest. So Andrew and I met up and grabbed some snacks to munch on the grass. We had covered about a quarter of the section that we had set out to look over. Certain names we had seen copious amounts of: Boyds, Woods, Tayler.
After a little break we split up again and the search continued. At about forty minutes into it I was under a tree, yanking at some ivy vines that were covering a rather large headstone. A little bird of some variety must have been nesting there because as I pulled the vines apart it fly out at me from the underbush and scared the living daylights out of me. I screamed. And probably swore as well. I am not used to things flying out at me from the ground in a graveyard. At the same time my phone began to ring. It was Andrew on the other side of the graveyard – he had found them. I ran over and he asked if I had been screaming because my phone was ringing – I explained that it was pure coincidence that the two events had happened on top of the other.
This entire time we had thought we would be lucky if there was even a headstone to mark the resting place of my ancestors – boy were we in for a surprise. There, in amongst the simple headstones was the final resting place of Francis, Elizabeth and Charles Tucker. Rather than me describing it I have included a picture of it below. The one on the left with the iron rail around it is the one for Francis, Elisabeth and Charles. The one on the right with an obelisk is for Hannah, Edward and their son Frederick Tucker.
Across the path from them was another large marking – one for Hannah Tucker and her husband and their son. I have no idea of what relation they may have been, but considering the dates and the size of the two memorials, we think there must have been some sort of relation.
We cleaned off what we could and decided to return the following day with some flowers and something to make a rubbing with. For the afternoon we decided to travel up to Minster to see if the family home was still standing. It wasn’t, but the house that would have been their neighbours was still standing, so we took a picture of that instead. Heading to Minster was about 3 miles up hill (in both directions!) and held a great view of the where we had just come from but admittedly there was not much to the town. (A Chinese takeaway, a launderette and a post office.) So back down the hill we went.
I will stop here so that Andrew may have his say of what our adventures were that evening but I will sum up with the remainder of the following morning. We went to pick up flowers and some wax paper and crayons to make a rubbing, spent a bit of time tidying up as best we could around the memorials and took some pictures. We made the rubbing and then set out leisurely for home, having accomplished what we had set out to do. What a great feeling that is.
After a little break we split up again and the search continued. At about forty minutes into it I was under a tree, yanking at some ivy vines that were covering a rather large headstone. A little bird of some variety must have been nesting there because as I pulled the vines apart it fly out at me from the underbush and scared the living daylights out of me. I screamed. And probably swore as well. I am not used to things flying out at me from the ground in a graveyard. At the same time my phone began to ring. It was Andrew on the other side of the graveyard – he had found them. I ran over and he asked if I had been screaming because my phone was ringing – I explained that it was pure coincidence that the two events had happened on top of the other.
This entire time we had thought we would be lucky if there was even a headstone to mark the resting place of my ancestors – boy were we in for a surprise. There, in amongst the simple headstones was the final resting place of Francis, Elizabeth and Charles Tucker. Rather than me describing it I have included a picture of it below. The one on the left with the iron rail around it is the one for Francis, Elisabeth and Charles. The one on the right with an obelisk is for Hannah, Edward and their son Frederick Tucker.
Across the path from them was another large marking – one for Hannah Tucker and her husband and their son. I have no idea of what relation they may have been, but considering the dates and the size of the two memorials, we think there must have been some sort of relation.
We cleaned off what we could and decided to return the following day with some flowers and something to make a rubbing with. For the afternoon we decided to travel up to Minster to see if the family home was still standing. It wasn’t, but the house that would have been their neighbours was still standing, so we took a picture of that instead. Heading to Minster was about 3 miles up hill (in both directions!) and held a great view of the where we had just come from but admittedly there was not much to the town. (A Chinese takeaway, a launderette and a post office.) So back down the hill we went.
I will stop here so that Andrew may have his say of what our adventures were that evening but I will sum up with the remainder of the following morning. We went to pick up flowers and some wax paper and crayons to make a rubbing, spent a bit of time tidying up as best we could around the memorials and took some pictures. We made the rubbing and then set out leisurely for home, having accomplished what we had set out to do. What a great feeling that is.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Enlisting all Musical Help
Hello to everyone and yes, we have to apologise for not keeping up in the past two weeks with our blog. We were off to a really good start and now the amount of work coming up has driven me away from the internet. Please take it as a really good sign that in these times of "credit crunch" that Andrew and I are up to our eyeballs in work load. And we mean that.
The reason I am taking a minute to write to you all (especially considering it is a friday night and Andrew has a pizza cooking in the oven) is that I need some help.
My vocal teacher has asked me to be a part of his Showcase. This is a big deal for a number of reasons. One: My vocal teacher is rather big in town and for that reason I am honoured that he thinks me worthy of performing in a Showcase and Two: A Showcase is something that either big schools or professional teachers will put on and invite agents and casting directors to view their graduating class/students. Now, because my vocal teacher is so big this means that A LOT of really amazing agents and casting directors will be there. The catch: there is only enough time for me to sing two songs. Therefore they have to be really good.
Now, I am fine for the legit soprano piece, but I really, really need a pop or rock song as a lot of agents want to know that you can be versatile. (A.k.a one year you could play Mary Poppins and the next you could play in We Will Rock You or Mamma Mia! - it's all about trends...)
So, with the mass amounts of records and cd's that I know my family owns, if any of you come across one that you think would be great for me (hopefully in the next week as there are only 6 weeks until the Showcase) please let me know.
What I am looking for is something not too well known (i.e. not Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me - everyone and their mother sings that one.) but preferably a quick tempo piece. (i.e. fast) I love old jazz numbers and stuff like "Midnight at the Oasis" and "I'm all out of love".
So please, Granddad and Charlene, Gram and Grandma, Mom and Dad, Aunt Jean Marc, Judy,David, Linda, Sandy, Ray, Colleen, Bob, Elaine, Curtis, Nathan, Alayna and Nick, Emily and Andrew, Rachael and Scott, Amanda, Britt, Ben, Barb and Bill and the Willicks and ANYONE else who reads this Blog - if you have any ideas for a pop or rock song that I could sing - no matter what year it was - send me a quick note or an email - call me at 2 a.m. I don't care...just HELP ME PLEASE!!!!
yours waiting ever so patiently...Brianne
The reason I am taking a minute to write to you all (especially considering it is a friday night and Andrew has a pizza cooking in the oven) is that I need some help.
My vocal teacher has asked me to be a part of his Showcase. This is a big deal for a number of reasons. One: My vocal teacher is rather big in town and for that reason I am honoured that he thinks me worthy of performing in a Showcase and Two: A Showcase is something that either big schools or professional teachers will put on and invite agents and casting directors to view their graduating class/students. Now, because my vocal teacher is so big this means that A LOT of really amazing agents and casting directors will be there. The catch: there is only enough time for me to sing two songs. Therefore they have to be really good.
Now, I am fine for the legit soprano piece, but I really, really need a pop or rock song as a lot of agents want to know that you can be versatile. (A.k.a one year you could play Mary Poppins and the next you could play in We Will Rock You or Mamma Mia! - it's all about trends...)
So, with the mass amounts of records and cd's that I know my family owns, if any of you come across one that you think would be great for me (hopefully in the next week as there are only 6 weeks until the Showcase) please let me know.
What I am looking for is something not too well known (i.e. not Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me - everyone and their mother sings that one.) but preferably a quick tempo piece. (i.e. fast) I love old jazz numbers and stuff like "Midnight at the Oasis" and "I'm all out of love".
So please, Granddad and Charlene, Gram and Grandma, Mom and Dad, Aunt Jean Marc, Judy,David, Linda, Sandy, Ray, Colleen, Bob, Elaine, Curtis, Nathan, Alayna and Nick, Emily and Andrew, Rachael and Scott, Amanda, Britt, Ben, Barb and Bill and the Willicks and ANYONE else who reads this Blog - if you have any ideas for a pop or rock song that I could sing - no matter what year it was - send me a quick note or an email - call me at 2 a.m. I don't care...just HELP ME PLEASE!!!!
yours waiting ever so patiently...Brianne
Friday, February 6, 2009
Return of the Random Thoughts
Once again I subject our loyal readers to the disconnected musings of my well-meaning but increasingly enfeebled brain!
The morning commute can help you discover the oddest paradoxes. The other day I found myself wedged between two tube riders, one of which stank of foul body odor, the other who reeked of Ivory soap! I actually found Soap Man harder to deal with.
I've had the chance to ride several English trains into the areas surrounding London, and it's a great way to travel. They're all rather "light rail" in nature, something like the GO Trains of Toronto (without being double decker.) I wish against wish that Ottawa would remove it's major sensory organs from it's sphincter, realize that the dedicated bus lane along the 417 is a pointless joke, and put in a light rail. By the by, has the strike been settled YET?
Brianne and I have discovered a new favourite take-out restaurant called Nando's. It's a chicken joint specializing in Portuguese barbecue, and it's a rather popular chain in London. Brianne tried it whilst on her tour and got me addicted in short order. The Portuguese spice is called
Piri Piri and it is mind-blowing, so we tend to go for the milder version of Mango and Lime.
I've mentioned the snow here in London, but I have not mentioned the cold. Granted it is balmy here compared to the frigid conditions of home-sweet-home, but there's a subtle difference in the chill here. It's a moister cold here, so even if the temperature is relatively mild, the nip of the wind goes through to your bones. Thank goodness for our little block heater.
Parting shots: Odd little observational humour from the morning paper.
When people who manufacture drawing boards want to start over, what do they go back to?
If sign-makers are on strike, how do they display their discontent?
Striking two halves of a pistachio shell together gives the impression that a very small horse is approaching.
The morning commute can help you discover the oddest paradoxes. The other day I found myself wedged between two tube riders, one of which stank of foul body odor, the other who reeked of Ivory soap! I actually found Soap Man harder to deal with.
I've had the chance to ride several English trains into the areas surrounding London, and it's a great way to travel. They're all rather "light rail" in nature, something like the GO Trains of Toronto (without being double decker.) I wish against wish that Ottawa would remove it's major sensory organs from it's sphincter, realize that the dedicated bus lane along the 417 is a pointless joke, and put in a light rail. By the by, has the strike been settled YET?
Brianne and I have discovered a new favourite take-out restaurant called Nando's. It's a chicken joint specializing in Portuguese barbecue, and it's a rather popular chain in London. Brianne tried it whilst on her tour and got me addicted in short order. The Portuguese spice is called
Piri Piri and it is mind-blowing, so we tend to go for the milder version of Mango and Lime.
I've mentioned the snow here in London, but I have not mentioned the cold. Granted it is balmy here compared to the frigid conditions of home-sweet-home, but there's a subtle difference in the chill here. It's a moister cold here, so even if the temperature is relatively mild, the nip of the wind goes through to your bones. Thank goodness for our little block heater.
Parting shots: Odd little observational humour from the morning paper.
When people who manufacture drawing boards want to start over, what do they go back to?
If sign-makers are on strike, how do they display their discontent?
Striking two halves of a pistachio shell together gives the impression that a very small horse is approaching.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Sky is Falling!
Run! Duck! Hide under your desk! For God's sake, shelter the children and hide your pet safely in a laundry hamper! London is engulfed in . . . 6 inches of the fluffiest snow imaginable and the apocalypse is apparently upon us. Honestly, the way this town loses it's mind over a little white stuff makes Toronto look like Yellowknife. Wow, how long has it been since I could make such a truly Canadian reference and know that my audience will know what I'm talking about?
The snow began on Sunday afternoon, when Brianne and I had been spending the entire day hanging out with her friend from the panto tour Clare and her boyfriend Jonathan. Lovely people, an actor couple like us, great pals to have. We've now got them hooked on a reality show that we like(d) called Murder in Small Town X. You may not remember it, it was only on for one season in the summer of 2001, but it was a great mix of reality contest and murder mystery, and we're watching it with them on YouTube. When we left their place that night, it was a fluffy marshmallow dusting all over the place, pretty and seemingly harmless.
The next day London was in the fetal position. Nearly all the tubes were down or severely delayed, every bus in town was cancelled - something that even The Blitz didn't achieve - and motorists were warned to stay off the roads if not absolutely necessary. I was one of only three people who made it to the office, other two being a hardy Aussie and a Frenchman with a skiing background. All manner of shops were closed, West End plays were called off for the night, two airports shut down, Heathrow cancelled dozens of flights, loss of business cost the city over a billion pounds . . . and I know all this because today's newspaper had about 10 pages dedicated to the devastation caused by 6 bloody inches of snow!
It was nice to notice some sense of humour about the whole affair yesterday. When I was waiting on the tube platform, an announcement came over the PA describing about 5 line closures and severe delays everywhere else. After a couple of seconds, the announcer piped up again and declared, "For once, ladies and gentlemen, this is NOT our fault!" Chuckling ensued amongst my fellow commuters.
The snow began on Sunday afternoon, when Brianne and I had been spending the entire day hanging out with her friend from the panto tour Clare and her boyfriend Jonathan. Lovely people, an actor couple like us, great pals to have. We've now got them hooked on a reality show that we like(d) called Murder in Small Town X. You may not remember it, it was only on for one season in the summer of 2001, but it was a great mix of reality contest and murder mystery, and we're watching it with them on YouTube. When we left their place that night, it was a fluffy marshmallow dusting all over the place, pretty and seemingly harmless.
The next day London was in the fetal position. Nearly all the tubes were down or severely delayed, every bus in town was cancelled - something that even The Blitz didn't achieve - and motorists were warned to stay off the roads if not absolutely necessary. I was one of only three people who made it to the office, other two being a hardy Aussie and a Frenchman with a skiing background. All manner of shops were closed, West End plays were called off for the night, two airports shut down, Heathrow cancelled dozens of flights, loss of business cost the city over a billion pounds . . . and I know all this because today's newspaper had about 10 pages dedicated to the devastation caused by 6 bloody inches of snow!
It was nice to notice some sense of humour about the whole affair yesterday. When I was waiting on the tube platform, an announcement came over the PA describing about 5 line closures and severe delays everywhere else. After a couple of seconds, the announcer piped up again and declared, "For once, ladies and gentlemen, this is NOT our fault!" Chuckling ensued amongst my fellow commuters.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Work and Play
I think I can conclusively say that, while I still tend to enjoy AYS catering jobs, the novelty has pretty much worn off. This past week I served a small dinner at Buckingham Palace attended by Princess Margaret, and I felt no real need to clamour over myself and report every minute detail to our adoring blog-reading public. Truth be told it was a complete breeze of a job, with much waiting around whilst the 40 guests finished eating each course. I did have the "privilege" of standing the in the vicinity of Her Royal Highness with a tray of drinks exclusively for her convenience and consumption. I hovered around her for 45 minutes, and she never touched a drop. Oh, the mad-cap adventures of serving royalty. The dinner took place in the Queen's Gallery of Buckingham Palace. While it was decked out in luxurious art and architecture, another symptom of too many high-society service gigs is that these timeless and ageless and priceless halls all seem to blend together in my mind, none of them standing out as they once might have done.
One great diversion from the stream of office and service work has been the opportunity to volunteer with Brianne's group of youngsters at the U-Film sessions. Two nights this week I have joined in with the group in their improv exercises and film-making tutorials. It's been great fun to "play" again, and gives me a deeper appreciation for the good work that B is involved with. The kids, while being identified by the local council as "at risk," are bright and responsive and relatively well-behaved. I feel that B's group is having a very positive impact upon the children. The experience has also reaffirmed my admiration for teaching profession, which is a form of performance art all it's own.
One great diversion from the stream of office and service work has been the opportunity to volunteer with Brianne's group of youngsters at the U-Film sessions. Two nights this week I have joined in with the group in their improv exercises and film-making tutorials. It's been great fun to "play" again, and gives me a deeper appreciation for the good work that B is involved with. The kids, while being identified by the local council as "at risk," are bright and responsive and relatively well-behaved. I feel that B's group is having a very positive impact upon the children. The experience has also reaffirmed my admiration for teaching profession, which is a form of performance art all it's own.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
OMG! My Grandfather is really Spock!
While researching photographers for headshots (Andrew needs to have his re-done) we came across this picture of Leonard Nimoy. The likeness is uncany. He looks like my grandfather in this picture.
That's right ladies and gentlemen, my Grandfather is secretly Spock - all I have to do now is get him to teach me the Vulcan death grip and I will be set for life!
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Pranks Roll On...ladadadadee
Andrew and I have a great housemate in Matt, Not only does he share in our sense of humour, but he also is willing to join us in pranks – even if they are occasionally planned against each other. A few weeks after Andrew left to do a show before Christmas I started hearing a flute being played in the morning. Eventually I discovered that it was Matt who had previously studied the flute classically and had gotten his hands onto one. Earlier in the year I believe Andrew wrote about my loathing of most woodwind instruments. Please understand that this mostly stems from hearing either people playing them poorly or playing songs that should never be changed over to a classical instrument – such as Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name”. It just doesn’t work. Well – because of this loathing I offered to Matt that he should follow Andrew around the apartment playing the flute – preferably the theme from Peter and the Wolf. Unfortunately it did not come to fruition but it was still a great idea for a prank. However, recently things have been getting a little silly. For instance; Andrew and I brought back with us from Christmas seasons three and four of The Office, a show that we are all crazy about. What ensued was two weeks of all three of us gathering around the couch and watching at least two episodes to relax after work. Due to my new job there are some nights that I am not home until rather late – for these occasions Matt has made a sign to show how much he is in Office viewing withdrawal, it reads as such: Will Drop Pants for Episodes of The Office. It makes me giggle inside knowing about it.
Anywho….last night we were all hanging about watching a bit of The Office as well as some Fawlty Towers, chatting about the plans for the week ahead, etc. Matt goes into the kitchen for a bit to make up a snack or something and when he comes back Andrew and I are canoodling on the couch. He playfully made a big deal about it as if he had walked into an extremely uncomfortablesituation. We all had a little laugh at it. I then went into the washroom for a few minutes and when I emerged I found Andrew and Matt locked into a tight embrace. Their prank worked – I hit the floor laughing and proceeded to run around in a very Benny Hill fashion exclaiming about the place. The only question now is…what can I plan next to top it?
Anywho….last night we were all hanging about watching a bit of The Office as well as some Fawlty Towers, chatting about the plans for the week ahead, etc. Matt goes into the kitchen for a bit to make up a snack or something and when he comes back Andrew and I are canoodling on the couch. He playfully made a big deal about it as if he had walked into an extremely uncomfortablesituation. We all had a little laugh at it. I then went into the washroom for a few minutes and when I emerged I found Andrew and Matt locked into a tight embrace. Their prank worked – I hit the floor laughing and proceeded to run around in a very Benny Hill fashion exclaiming about the place. The only question now is…what can I plan next to top it?
Ufilm
This past week has been some incredible work. Incredible as in how great I feel about it, but also as in how much hard work is going into it. During the day from Monday to Friday I am doing two shows a day of a healthy lifestyle children’s show called Golden Spoon. For this show I am tour manager, sound technician and I also have a small acting role as a Cooking Competition Judge. Then on Tuesday and Thursday nights I am part of a new program called Ufilm. We have 17 kids involved in it with ages ranging from 13 to 17. Most of them have either been referred to the program by teachers, guardians or care givers. Some of these kids are in foster care, most are not doing well in school and one girl is pregnant. What we are doing in the program is splitting into three groups and each group will write, produce and film a short 10 minute film. We’re trying to get these kids involved and if they do the work it will go towards their school credits.
Most of the kids are really into it, some are even coming up with some really original ideas – although a little dark in nature – but there is always one or two that are out there to stir up a bit of trouble. There are five facilitators always on hand just in case there is trouble (I am one of them) and we have our eyes on two boys in particular that we know if closely paired together will cause a distraction for others. If anyone receives two warnings they are kicked out of the program. It may sound tough but it is necessary.The evenings that I am working on this end late, and I am usually so zonked that I just have a light snack when I get home and then crawl into bed. Ufilm will be going on for twelve sessions. Come March it should wrap up, however In February during the school break I will be part of some High School Musical workshops and then starting up in late March will be another tour of a show about anti smoking. Lots of overlapping of work in other words. Next week we start writing the film scripts so I will be able to expand on that then. TTFN!
Most of the kids are really into it, some are even coming up with some really original ideas – although a little dark in nature – but there is always one or two that are out there to stir up a bit of trouble. There are five facilitators always on hand just in case there is trouble (I am one of them) and we have our eyes on two boys in particular that we know if closely paired together will cause a distraction for others. If anyone receives two warnings they are kicked out of the program. It may sound tough but it is necessary.The evenings that I am working on this end late, and I am usually so zonked that I just have a light snack when I get home and then crawl into bed. Ufilm will be going on for twelve sessions. Come March it should wrap up, however In February during the school break I will be part of some High School Musical workshops and then starting up in late March will be another tour of a show about anti smoking. Lots of overlapping of work in other words. Next week we start writing the film scripts so I will be able to expand on that then. TTFN!
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