Toilet Blogging

In today's society, I don't think anyone should be able to put their hand on their heart and say, 'I have never used my phone whilst on the John.' Mainly because I don't understand why it should such be a shameful activity?

Throughout history people have been bored whilst doing their business. In WW1, they sat around and played cards. Newspapers, magazines and books are a staple in many household lavs, to the point where there are books specifically published for bathroom reading. And so, with a lengthy and somewhat overly informative introduction out of the way, I find myself blogging on the bog.

But enough of the scenery, today marks my last day in London before I head off on my travels tomorrow at lunchtime. For those unfamiliar with my current travel plans, they are as follows: York until Sunday, then Ayr for a couple of weeks, then hopping, skipping and jumping around the Isles performing to school groups and possibly more. I've already rabbited on about saying goodbye and how much I'll miss it all and how excited I am, so now the metaphorical TimeCompass© is pointing me forward. To the future!

Echoes of 'the future' are heard around the room as glassware noisily clatters together.

Thank you. Now obviously as far as I can guess a great deal of the next six months will be spent outside of Ol' Smokey, so this particular blog becomes a little obsolete. As such, I shall be creating a new blog! With blackjack and hookers tales from my various towns and trips, sure to entice, astound, amaze and astonish! Now I've just got to pick my colour scheme...

(Click here for the new blog, minions!)

Like A Rolling Stone

Sorting my clothes into my 'coming with me' bag and my 'going into a friend's loft' bags, I get a certain sense of déjà vu. It feels like I was doing this very recently.. then I look around my room and realize I was only doing this recently. I've lived in this room for barely three months and back everything goes into boxes and bags.. at this rate I honestly wonder why I unpack anything ever.

Not that I'm unhappy, on the contrary, this is the most excited I've been whilst packing up all this stuff.. but for a moment the future is on hold and the present demands procrastination. So the past draws my thoughts back to June of last year.

At that time I was just throwing everything into bags, moving in with Charlotte for a few weeks while I prepared to move properly all the way here to London town. It was a busy time. Moving it all to hers was the easy bit. Then I had to sort some of it into storage, sort what I could into transportable bags, and leave some tokens behind with her. It was emotional. It was difficult. Not just for the two of us, but for me and the whole city. I was leaving behind my four years of independence, my university, my job, my house, my friends, even my bear. (For those who were not aware, I have a teddy called Snail, who had been with me since I was 8 years old, and currently sleeps next to Charlotte, watching over her for me. He's the only one I would trust to do so.)

Above all the job was the hardest to leave. Don't misunderstand me, leaving Charlotte was hellish but I knew we would see each other regularly, and we do. Leaving a job I'd held for over two years, though, leaving that warm, safe environment, that was worse than leaving home. That's me leaving behind financial stability and security, opportunities in Theatre I'd only dreamed of having before, and people who truly cared for and supported each other. The leaving party they threw for me was one of the best nights I've ever had.

But everything changes. And if you've heard my life story, you'll understand that staying still isn't something I'm very good at. So here I am, a year and a bit later, packing my things to leave London (for a while, anyway), and again it's the job that's going to be hardest to say goodbye to.

Granted I'm coming back to work over my Christmas break, and yes I'll be there again for the long term in February, but still. I'll miss 'em. And I've been assured that I'll be missed too. And that's nice, I suppose, because if people don't miss you while you're gone, then you probably didn't do much good whilst you were there.

There's some food for thought, minions. Eat up.

Le Grand Escape

Chapter 1

In which Adam attempts to leave the country,

tries his hand at vlogging,

and speaks some French.

Yes, minions, this is my first (and likely only) foray into the mystical world of video-blogs. So grab a snack, crack open that beer you've been looking for an excuse to drink, stick on your headphones, and enjoy yourself.

The Icy Grip Of Charity Fads

On Sunday the 24th of August, I was nominated by Richard Bayton for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge.

On Monday the 25th of August, I was nominated again by Marianne Roman.

On Tuesday 26th of August, at approximately 11:40am, I subjected my body to previously unfath levels of incredible discomfort as 20+ litres of iced water was poured, dropped and thrown over me. Here's that video one more time.

Did you enjoy that? I didn't. At all. Honestly it was a horrible experience. But I've managed to raise a fair bit of money for my chosen charities, and I have a few theories as to why this particular challenge works incredibly well:

Schadenfreude

Humans love laughing at one another's misfortune, and what could be more unfortunate than being drowned in water which typically reaches temperatures more than 30℃ below the human body's core temperature? Schadenfreude, like any feel-good, laughter-inducing activity, releases dopamine into the brain, making the viewer feel better overall. In this state of elation they are more likely to be generous.

Respect

This ties in strongly with the above, but there is a difference between laughing at someone falling off a horse, and watching someone being persecuted for their beliefs. Rather a stark contrast, I know, but think of it this way: these are not random events, people (such as myself) are consciously choosing to put themselves through extreme physical discomfort and even pain in order to raise awareness of this disease and the surrounding campaign. That kind of strength of belief demands respect, and as we can see easily by looking at political systems worldwide, people are likely to support someone they respect. This means people will continue to accept the challenge.

I was going to add a third point in here, but after consideration it seemed to similar to the previous two. Also Blogger keeps refusing to save my edits and I'm getting fed up of re-writing psychosomatic theories.

Minions, if you haven't yet researched ALS (MND), then do so. It is one of millions of worthy causes out there, but most importantly it is the one cause which is currently making a serious effort to raise global awareness. Give generously, and look out for a future video related to this post.

I Called The Law But The.. Law Did Nothing.

So last night I arrived at my flats after a particularly gruelling and dull shift and noticed something a mite peculiar:

Two figures were hunched over a scooter which is always chained up in the car park. The first thing that struck me as odd was that I'd only ever seen a woman use the scooter. I had to quite literally walk directly up to them as the scooter is parked next to the entry gate. I actually had to ask one of them if I could get passed - he looked like I'd just pulled a gun on him. This probably should have been my second warning signal, but I was tired and the music from a party across the road was booming - I was imagining how long it might keep me awake for.

As I ascended the steps I thought again about the two youths bent over the scooter and my brain registered a small warning light which had begun to blink in my subconscious. I decided to try and capture whatever was happening on camera in case this was, indeed, something illegal and I would need to present evidence to a jury (my imagination runs far quicker than my actual brain..), but as I was trying to find the zoom function on my camera (still struggling with that one) they both bolted. This all seemed very odd so I called 101 (this is the police non-emergency number in case anyone is unaware. It comes with a handy greeting explaining that if the call is about an emergency, that the caller should hang up and dial 999. You know, to stop all of those mugging victims and heart attacks from clogging up the line dedicated to ASBOs and missing cats.)

The operator took the details and asked for the registration of the vehicle in question, which gave me a chance to examine the bike further. It turns out the would-be master criminals had stolen the battery, which I informed the coppers of, and I was told that an officer would follow up on the report within the next 60 minutes.

I hadn't heard anything (apart from the relentless partying from across the road) after an hour and a half so I called to make a noise complaint and check on the status of the report. I was informed that a) they couldn't do anything about the noise as this was the council's duty and then b) an officer had inspected the vehicle and found no problems. I was amazed. Had the burglars been suddenly struck by crippling guilt and compassion? Had they merely replaced the panel to cover their tracks? I didn't know. I was tired and there was loud music playing and them damned kids were out on the street and I felt about 50.

However opportunity, as is her way, knocks at the most convenient and odd times. And often in really awkward ways. This was one of her crowning moments. She let two wasps into my room whilst I was on the phone. That bitch. I hate wasps. But how to get rid of them? Far to agile for the ok' glass and paper trick, much to painful to smack between the palms.. what's that? In the kitchen you say? Raid, eh? That'll do it! And it did, although the raid seemed about as old as I felt so the 'kills in seconds' promise was rather hopeful. What actually happened was the damned thing flew around my room in a frenzy then dive bombed my bed. And then managed to roll onto the floor. And under my discarded trousers. Although at this point it didn't matter as the ol' cup n' paper trick worked just fine.

I decided to eject the offending, slowly dying insects out of the front door for fear of inviting their friends in should I open the window. This then gave me a completely valid excuse to descend the three flights of stairs and walk across the car park to examine the apparently fine scooter. Which was as I'd last seen it: battery missing, gaping hole in the footboard. The Met Police really shining there. So I did the sensible thing, and the only appropriate thing to do at 4am. I left a note. It went along the lines of this...

Hi, my name's Adam and I didn't do this. But I did see it happen and reported it to the police. Here's the call reference and my number in case I can be of any more use. Sorry about all this.

Apparently this was well-received, as I spoke to her this evening as she wanted to thank me for leaving the note, apparently not many people would have done this. We also discussed how desperate someone must be to steal a moped battery, an item which sells brand new for under £30. London, eh?

Let this be a lesson, minions: always leave a note when you witness a crime. A small act can make a big difference.

July's Special: Rainbows!

I feel as it approaches the end of July I should keep up to date with my monthly blog posting. And in all honesty, plenty has happened since my last post.

I had a birthday, which was delightful. I celebrated over the course of about a week, starting with a weekend away with Charlotte at a spa somewhere near a power station in the Midlands.. that's all I remember really, but the stay was excellent. Food included, spa facilities included, and I even treated myself to a massage (t'was my birthday after all). The day before my birthday I had dinner with Richard and James at Camden's Blues Bar (excellent food, I highly recommend the beef ribs). On the day itself I celebrated by hosting a charity pub quiz at work, which was met with great enthusiasm and general good feelings. I also saw Sarah as she joined me for a drink after the quiztivities. I'm sure I did some other things but this was a month ago so forgive my memory.

No sooner had that passed then it became July and as if by magic (or careful planning on my part) my mother and Charlotte arrived in London for a week of tourism and relaxation. Both of the aforementioned happened in abundance, with a sprinkling of stress in the form of a very important envelope I recovered from my previous accommodation. Said envelope contained some important documents with the instructions to fill in, sign, and return by special delivery to 've receive d no more than 5 days after the initial postmark. I was already 3 days late. Frantically I scribbled with one hand whilst searching for a nearby post office with the other. I made it just as the counter staff were discussing closing (they even turned away people who joined the queue after me) and all was well with the world.

One of the highlights of having a parent visit you in your home city is the ability to go out on the town. In our case, a West End show. This time, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels at The Savoy ("The Savoy!" Mother exclaimed, "we're seeing a musical at The Savoy Theatre! How wonderful!"). The show was excellent, a true call back to music hall classics of a bygone era, featuring some excellent acting and singing by an all-star cast. I would highly recommend it if you can get discounted tickets (ours were down from £115 to £40 each. Well, it is The Savoy!)

After that July has sort of just trundled along. Oh, other than the obvious joy of going to York for Sam's surprise party, an excellent affair arranged by very clever Holly saw us hiding in closets and airing cupboards awaiting a very confused Sam, wondering aloud why his living room had been cleaned and decorated. We spent most of the weekend playing Mario Kart on Sam's new WiiU. By the end of it I was actually doing quite well! Except on Rainbow Road..

Everybody hates Rainbow Road...

So A Cyclist Outed Me As Gay

I know you're all looking forward to your monthly dose of satiric journalism surrounding life in London, and don't worry that will come, (I locked my keys and my phone inside the flat today. What a story!) But right now something that happened on my way home is playing on my mind, and I honestly can't get my head around it.

Let's start at the bus stop. I, after closing the pub and having a now customary drink and general life chat with the manager, was waiting for the night bus (late) when a couple of young girls walked up and sat down next to me, shivering violently. They dispaired at the display stating that the next bus would be almost half an hour's wait, so I assured them that the display lies, and pointed out that the bus was parked in the terminal across the road. They explained that they had gotten on the bus not knowing where to get off and had ridden it to the end of the line, and were now essentially retracing their journey in the hope of eventually getting home.

Long story short, they needed to get off at my stop and walk in a slightly different direction. After a nice bus-chat and after they thanked me for my kindness and help (I was branded the nicest person in London, I pointed out that this was due to my not being from London) I pointed them in the right direction and headed off on my own path. No sooner had I taken two steps then a cyclist who had been approaching us from behind yelled out,

"What kind of man lets two girls walk home by themselves at this time of night?" A fair point, I suppose, but he immediately followed with, "He must be gay."

Now I stayed silent here, as any immediate response my brain may have formulated would probably have been either juvenile or offensive. Or both. But after the fee seconds of no, you're gay ran through my head, the next thought I had was, was that an insult? To me? Seems more insulting to the gay community. Did this cyclist just attempt to argue that gay men are less chivalrous than their straight counterparts? How does that work? If I preferred cock, would I feel less obliged to be a gentleman? Certainly in my experience homosexuals are far more likely to walk a woman home. After all, what's less creepy: random stranger you met on a bus walks you to your front door and now knows were you live, or man who has no interest in your genitalia walks you home?

Which leads to an even more disturbing thought, was the cyclist trying to pin me as some sort of sexual deviant? Obviously if a man walks a girl home he must be straight, and also must be interested in engaging in sexual congress with one or both of his unsuspecting female companions. As such, being the raging homosexual that he has judged me to be, I would have no reason to walk the young ladies home.

Surely I am not in the wrong here? I got the girls onto the correct bus, got them off at the stop closest to their house, and by my estimations they will have had to walk for a maximum of 9 minutes through the notably assault-prone area of Honor Oak Park. Honestly they would have been more at risk walking through Balamory..

Perks Of Being A Tourist

I don't get much opportunity to do 'touristy' stuff; the stereotypical sights and spots which attract thousands of foreigners every day, none more so than those in the Capital itself. And so, ten months into my life in London, an opportunity arose which I could not pass up: show an old friend from America (high school) around London during her first two days in the fair isles. My thoughts during the whole experience were, "Why have I never done this before?"

We started at Paddington station. Some time later we managed to arrive within the same part of Paddington station, and headed to a convenient coffee shop which rhymes with Bartucks to prepare for the day ahead. After a stroll through Hyde Park (Why had I never done that before?) we took a train to King's Cross to gaze at the lack of platform 9 3/4, visit the Harry Potter shop and see a man who may have had the best job ever - he was a rail-based pest controller. And he was carrying a large falcon. No word of a lie, this man was casually strolling around one of England's most famous stations with an impressive bird of prey perched on his gloved arm. This day was going to be great.

After King's X, it was a bus to Southbank, to take in the river and the bank's world-class entertainment and attractions! Except lets face it, the Thames isn't hard to take in and the entertainment was disappointingly sparse on Monday afternoon. Still, got some bloody good ice-cream (the first of many) and had a nice stroll.

From there we visited Trafalgar Square (again, I'd not had chance to go since my move, and we chose a beautiful day to visit) to sunbathe with the lions under the watchful gaze of Admiral Nelson.

The final stop of the day took us to London Bridge for a pint on the riverfront at a great riverside pub in the Hays Galleria. Which was a Nicholson's pub, which granted me my new employee discount, but more about that later. The drinks were perfect and food we ended up having was delicious.

And then we had an indor BBQ (George Forman's Lean Mean Grilling Machine) at Richard's along with drinks for dinner.

Day two started with another meeting at Tarmucks - this time we were actually able to find one another far more easily - and then we were off to visit the Queen! The Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace is a wonderful tourist and British attraction. Featuring such exciting sights as: Police Officers on horseback, footsoldiers in red coats (The Red Coats are coming! The Red Coats are coming!) and bearskin caps, some of whom were also ahorse. And the marching band, easily stealing the show playing such classics as The Theme from Indiana Jones, The Imperial March and My Heart Will Go On. Brilliant stuff.

Day duo continued to improve as The American was introduced to the wonderful concept of a Cheesemonger. The concept that a shop could specialize in selling little other than numerous varieties of cheese caused a minor excitement aneurysm, but she quickly recovered and was nibbling happily on the samples available for tasting. I bought a very expensive pork pie, another new experience (and another very good one, though she wasn't too keen on the sweet chili scotch egg) which we shared for lunch on a little city centre greenspace we stumbled across en route to Leicester Square. On final arrival to the cinema-swamped stomping ground of the world's biggest film releases, we decided to have a drink (well, I had a drink), wonder Chinatown, buy tickets to a comedy show, and make our way to a far more obscure attraction: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.

The full run of events that took place in our short time in this particular pub (enough for us to finish one drink) would occupy an entire blog post to themselves, and by this point I imagine you're tired, so I'll condence the entire experience into the funniest moments: Thames Water pub crawl, 'you're rather attractive', and dogging. I'll let your imaginations run riot there.

We met Richard again for dinner before all heading to the highly anticipated Mostly Comedy at the Leicester Square Theatre. The show featured two warm-up Fringe acts and we were three of an audience of 12. It was absolutely wonderful. The first act, comic duo Doggett & Ephgrave, based their entire show on a slide show. A risky maneuver for a comedy show as there can be no room for error or improvisation, and at times the room was quiet but they got plenty of laughs. The second act was the acclaimmed stand-up and Metro columnist Richard Herring, who's writing I have long admired and who had a cameo role in Rock Band VS Vampires (sadly I wasn't on set that particular day, so missed the opportunity to strike up a conversational friendship with this semi-famous personal favourite of mine, setting up a flaky pretence to saying hello after the show, portraying a vague air of fame and fortune to my friends. Friends who know me well enough to realise that said air is, in fact, complete rubbish). By this point I had consumed a lot of alcohol (5 pints) so going for another drink afterwards seemed like the most sensible idea. And then, Soho! Which turned out to be perfectly barren on a Tuesday night in early June.

However, through the haze of smog and beer goggles, I spied a neon sign down a little alley. It said simply "The Bar". This had to be good. And as we drew closer the blackboard outside declared 'DJs dedicated to 60s and 70s soul.' It was tiny, it was underground, it serverd alcohol and the DJ was genuinely playing vynals on two decks. I let the soul train take me all the way home.

Actually it was the N343 but that doesn't sound nearly as fun.

Holy Shit I Have A Blog

Woah. Seriously. I know my time-keeping skills are stuff of legends but still. Wow, it has been a long time. I had to actually read my last blog post to remind myself what was happening two months ago (two months!)

I really dropped the ball there folks. My apologies. Here's a brief overview of life in the realm of Adam:

1. Job: New. Awesome. Long commute.

2. Acting: #teamkillday, TIE Panto auditions approaching, Rock Band wrapped.

3. Exercise: Eh, still doing it. No discernable results.

4. Moving house: June 1st, closer to work, touch wood.

That's all folks! 40+ hours/week have left me pretty exhausted so you'll have to wait for a full run down of all things Dindorf. Until then, be good. And have fun.

April Genius

So far, the month has been good to me. Let's start with the biggest positive in my life right now: I finally got a new job.

I'm working for a pub in Crystal Palace called The White Hart, which is part of a company of pubs called Castle, which in turn is a subsidiary of Mitchell & Butlers. In short, this means I work for a large company which owns such chains as Harvester, O'Neills, and All Bar One. Exciting stuff! The biggest drawback is that Crystal Palace is about an hour and a half away from me in Leyton, so the house move planned for the summer may take me further afield than I had first thought. Still, south London seems like a nice enough place, and still well-connected by rail and bus.

It is a relief, to say the least, to be back behind a bar. I was pondering it for a couple of days and mentioned to one of the other staff after a 10-hour shift that I felt less tired than my last 7-hour stint at the call centre. He described it as less exhausting on the soul. Very philosophical, but there's a certain truth to that. In the call centre, you follow a script, you listen to complaints, you follow the script some more, get shouted at, follow the script, but whatever you do don't answer back or try to defend yourself. Behind a bar, there are no rules against laughing, against banter, against being a bit (or in my case, very) tongue-in-cheek. I can be... myself. So much more so than I could when I was simply reading from a screen. And that is so very relaxing, and at the same time invigorating. Yes, in weeks and months to come I may complain and scowl at the injustice of having to clean up after such a rabble as we may see, but for now the manager is becoming a very good friend and colleague; the other staff are friendly and up for a laugh; and the customers are local and regular, intrigued by a new face and welcoming from the off. I actually finished my last shift with a discussion about European Medieval weaponry - one of the regulars, called Mattie if memory serves - is a collector and keeps a warhammer beside his bed.

In other news, I'm still exercising, eating and getting plenty of sleep. Oh and Charlotte's Surprise Christmas/Anniversary/Valentine's/Birthday present - Pirates of the Caribbean, screened at the Royal Albert Hall whilst the Royal Philharmonic performed the soundtrack live - was spectacular. Aside from the sound/video being out of sync during the first few scenes (much to the amusement of the audience, and then to rapturous applause when the lips and words began to synchronize).

Captain America: The Winter Soldier is also brilliant. However, in a move that will put me off Cineworld for life, the projectionist cut the tape at the beginning of the end-credits-sequence. There was a collective 'what the fuck?' from those few of us who had stayed to watch it, followed by one gentleman in the audience (after shouting at the projection box) explaining in brief the sequence of events we had been denied. Ah well, at least the DVD will be released before the next film, and also they made a reference to Stephen Strange which is ridiculously exciting for people like myself.

Live long and read on, minions!

The Past Is Just A Story We Tell Ourselves

What. A. Day.

You know those days you just feel like you need to talk about? Well it is four minutes past midnight as I'm starting to write this and since I woke up at 10:30am a ridiculous amount has happened. I'll walk you through important events in chronological order.

Part 1: The Master Ball

For those who have no interest in my video game habits, skip to part two.

I've recently started playing the Minecraft mod Pixelmon, which creates a normal Minecraft world with the addition of pokemon running around everywhere. Literally everywhere. In the water, in the caves, in my house, luckily the mod removes the normally present hostile mobs so the only real danger you face as a player is starvation (combined with falling short distances.) So I've been learning the basics and, as I should have foreseen, have been wasting far too much time on it already. In fact I'm surprised you're still even reading this, I'm getting bored of writing about it.. long story short, within a few hours I'd beaten some special pokemon and gotten some cool rare items including the coveted Master Ball meaning I can eventually hunt and catch some legendary pokemon and force it into my servitude. Basically this was a positive note of the day. Moving on!

Part Two: The Arcola

The job hunt is ongoing, and one of my applications has been to a little theatre in Dalston. I heard from a friend that it was a nice place and since it has been two weeks since I sent in my application and I hadn't heard anything from them (and the vacancy was still listed on the website) I decided to scout the place out. And I liked it. I went there under the pretence of lunch (beef stew. delicious.) and stayed for two cups of tea and some banana loaf because I had time to kill. Before I left I had a conversation with the girls who were working about racism and stereotyping (as you do) and enquired about the job listings, which I was told probably hadn't actually been looked at yet. Filled with hope, I asked them to put in a good word for me. Hopefully their memory for names is better than mine.

Part Three: The Red Wedding

As most people know I'm reading my way through Game of Thrones (so good) and I'm now on Storm of Swords 2: Blood and Gold. And this is when the dreaded Red Wedding happens.. by some coincidence I had managed to avoid hearing exactly who died in this much-referenced event so when it hit me, it hit me hard. 

Right in the feels. 

I'm still recovering.

Part Four: 1st For Talent

My first agency audition was today. 1st started as a child-actor agency and have recently expanded their client base to include young adults (up to 29) and out of 400 applications I was chosen to be one of 30 auditionees fighting for one of five openings. Although to be fair the last number is flexible as they need to expand their 20s actor catalog. Included was a professional photoshoot (at a discounted £59, a price I'm happy to pay when it would cost upwards of £100 if I'd looked up a photographer myself) and a very chatty make-up girl who may or may not have been flirting with me. I can honestly never tell these days, and having a girlfriend makes me pretty much immune to any advances - imagined or otherwise. Overall I left feeling a little uneasy. I'm still not sure why, though it could have been that I hadn't been able to use a bathroom since lunch, and wouldn't be able to while I was travelling again for the next hour.

Part Five: Her

This is possibly one of the most ridiculously heart-wrenching rom-coms I have ever seen. The acting is brilliant, the writing is natural, the emotions are real. I really don't want to say anything about the plot, but I would recommend going to see it. Don't look up a synopsis. The less you know about it, the better. However, I will say this: I wish I hadn't read The Red Wedding scenes on the same day as seeing this.

Oh the feels.
Also, I want the soundtrack.

Woke Up, Got Out Of Bed, Immediately Regretted That Descision

Heck, it's almost half way though the shortest month of the year and I haven't written anything yet. What's happened then, let's see.

Well, we recently completed principle photography on Rock Band VS Vampires! Hurray! It has been a long and sometimes bumpy road, expounded by the fact that our original set on which we were due to film had been turned into a building site. No, I mean literally, it wasn't just a bit messy, there were men in overalls throwing two by fours around. Not conducive to a productive day's filming. Still, we are a well-oiled machine, despite getting some sawdust in the gears we soldiered on to a different venue, which was exactly the same in every way. Except one third of the size. Adding to the overall ridiculousness of the situation, we had the biggest turnout for extras since the film began. Last I heard we had around 60 people hoping to get in on the action, and we were suddenly stuck in a venue that could barely hold ten.

Still, we soldier on, and I was granted the most important role I've ever had: I got to hold the black and white board thing which goes 'clap' in front of the camera before the scene starts. Yep, best thing I've done so far. Screw all of that 'acting' bollocks. Who needs a 'character' anyway. Why would I want my face on the screen when my hands have a slim possibility of being in the gag reel! Dream come true, I tell you.

By the time you read this, our facebook page will probably have reached about 20,000 likes with all the promotion we're doing, but I'm sure we'd appreciate a couple more. Go on, don't be a douche. I know you liked that Ronan Keating page when you first joined facebook.

I had to excuse myself from the set after seven hours of standing around, eating some pizza, taking some photos, and playing with the clapper board (exhausting day) because I had 'stuff' to do.

In honesty, that 'stuff' was actually the ever-important, life altering, Minecraft! Because let's face it, my virtual life won't live itself.

If you've never heard of minecraft, the link there takes you to their website where you can watch their promo video and buy the game. Also, I recommend watching the review which made me want to buy the game in the first place (after being nagged by multiple friends). Keep in mind this review was published when Minecraft was in phase approximately 0.6 (hence the reference to it being a beta), and the game is constantly being updated. Currently it is on version 1.7.4 and while the mechanics and effort required are more or less the same, there are a whole bunch of new elements to make the game playable by anyone. It may also be a good idea to watch this video which is much more recent and takes a more scientific approach to explaining Minecraft's success, individuality, and it's appeal.

Anyway back to what happens in my actual life, or my virtual life.

One of the newer features is the multi-player aspect of the game. When I started playing it was just me, in a world, alone. Much like the Zero Punctuation review. The closest we got to multi-player was Sam and I setting up our laptops, loading a new game, and seeing who could survive the longest in our respective worlds. Then they introduced servers and local multi-player, which is almost a prerequisite of games these days, but for Minecraft, it was mind-blowing.

So some time passes and after I moved to London Sam and I discussed setting up our own server. It means we can still play together like the good ol' days, and we can invite other people on to it and have a thriving community in our own little world. I was sceptical, as I always am, about how popular our idea would be. Low and behold we now have over 15 players on our server, easily funding the annual hosting fee.

Why am I writing about a video game on my blog about my exploits in the big city? Is that the frustrated screams of a thousand minions I can hear, quoting Monty Python at me ("Get on with it!")? Well simply because it is a link to my past and to those I hold dear. On Minecraft, Charlotte and I can go on long walks along the beach (however, we're more likely to go on mob-slaughter crusades); Sam and I can discuss life and how our respective cities are these days (however, we're more likely to go on horseback-mob-slaughter crusades); I can reconnect with friends I don't otherwise see very often (on crusades); I can even play games with my little brother in Germany (like our personal favourite, Mob Slaughter Crusade III). I suppose it has just been on my mind a lot lately. Not that I would discourage people from buying it, learning it, joining our world, joining us on certain crusades..

Anyway, to the stuff most of you have skipped down to anyway. Life updates!

Job hunting is in full swing. CVs are flying through the post like swallows in the spring; my email notifications ping new opportunities to me every day, and my sent box is rapidly filling with various 'Dear Sir/Madam,' messages.

Exercise is actually still happening. Which is still surprising me. My shoulder is flaring up so I can't do much with my arms, but I've taken to doing about 20 sit-ups and bicycles per day, plus I still use the SlenderTone belt once a week. Can't really see any results, but the fact that I've not completely given up on this routine is enough to make me feel better.

Acting is still happening, as ever. Next weekend sees me perform with LonDram in a handful of short plays, over two full days of performance (matinee and evening), which should be a blast. If nothing else, the theatre we're performing in has a wonderful café above it! After that, Kill Day's film day is March 1st with a full day of action in store, then on the 3rd I've got a photoshoot with a photographer who's creating a portfolio called 'Endurance', focussing on scars. I really couldn't resist that one.

That's all from me for now, minions, don't forget to click every link in this blog post for shits and giggles!

Darkness Pulls Itself Over The Night Like A Warm Blanket

I think of you.

Long-time fans will recognize that as an extract from one of my poems, and right now it couldn't be a more fitting metaphor. I'm exhausted tonight. So much has happened in such a short time and keeping the smile cranked up to the 'crowd-pleaser' setting takes its toll.

Right now it's settled onto 'content' - not to be confused with 'contempt' - and I'm taking stock of things.

Thing one - I have a very busy acting schedule. The eccos of Panto (ahoy there, boys and girls!) are still ringing in my ears and yet now I must focus fully on LonDram's February debut. And the little one-off films I'm doing here and there, but mainly LonDram. No sooner will I finish that, but I'll be on set for filming series one of Kill Day, a web series in which I have a (not unreasonably sized) part. And then the slate is a bit blank. I'm almost thankful for that at the moment though. March and April have commitments of their own to uphold.

Thing two - work. I'm bored again. Don't get me wrong, the call centre is ten times better than fundraising, but I want ten times better than that. A hundred times better than fundraising, and then some. Which is why, by the time I publish this, I will have received an email from the London Eye telling me whether they've invited me back for induction and training after a 2-stage interview process this week. Fingers crossed, find out at the end.

Thing three - my role in Kill Day requires me to be a soldier. I'll not say more for the sake of spoiling the plot, but needless to say a soldier generally needs to be, well, physically active. So I've got a month to get myself looking more front-line than back-bench. To that end, I encourage everyone to send me various forms of electronic communication to force me to do some sort of physical exercise. Be it sit-ups, step-training, swimming, whatever. Just no press-ups or jogging. I don't have the shoes to jog and my shoulder is acting up badly at the moment.

***

Update: I didn't get the London Eye job, which I'm pretty gutted about, but consoling myself with the knowledge that it obviously wasn't meant to be. They've got more jobs going, and you can bet my application will be in the pile somewhere.

I've also started doing daily sit-ups. Currently ranging from 20-50 per day over the past week. My previously forgotten muscles ache.

Blogs And Why To Write Them

I was going to entitle this 'and how to write them', but I thought that would seem a little too vain.

Now before you ask, yes - this is London related. But yes, I have another blog it would be a more suitable a post for, but I have a very specific system with that blog, and the next post needs to be a story update. And I can't think of one. So here's my heavily London-based blog post about blog posts!

I'm writing this for two reasons:

1. Mrs. Dindorf's classes at Leipzig International School. They're studying writing styles, and apparently 'blog' is a style of writing. Fascinating! What's more, they've been looking at this very blog as an example! This should be a treat for you lot, then. I'm taking the whole teaching element out of my mother's hands and presenting it to you in a fun, easy-to-read format. Granted, if I remember my mother (which I do) this is how many of her classes are presented anyway, so you can begin to see the family resemblance.
2. Jake Hamish Frinkman Harvey Clive Rundle III, Esq. Because although that may not be his real name, he needs some convincing on how useful blogging can be.

So, with the recent extinction of the ado (*ba dum, tsh*), let us begin.

What is a blog?

This is. Duh.

Why should I write one?

A good question, perhaps you should spend some time thinking about it. Write down any thoughts you come across during this process. In fact, write them somewhere public, somewhere where you'll never lose them and where you can share them with people at will.

But what would I write about?

Did you completely skip the last question? Go back and read it again. Then skip this question.

No, seriously, what goes into a blog?

Whatever you want. Or don't want. Most often a mixture of both. I have a simple mindset when I blog: expect everyone in the world to read it. Of course, in reality very few people will read your blog, and that's fine because the people who do read it want to do so. The most important rule, though, is don't ever assume something isn't worth reading. No matter how mundane the subject, you know you can make it sound freaking epic.

It's a good idea to have a theme for a blog, be it poetry, trying to organize otherwise random thoughts, murder and deduction, or baking, a blog can be about anything you have to say. Even if you have nothing to say. Write snippets. Jot down ideas. Come back in a year and read them over, add to them, and abandon them again - websites are a lot harder to lose than a piece of paper.

Fine, you've made your point. How do I start?

The all important realization that I'm right question. I recommend this. Blogger. It's simple, straightforward and run by Google so if you've already got Gmail then you've got a Blogger account. The design tools mean you can pick from a pre-determined selection of images (such as the one you're looking at now) or upload your own. The writing and editing section is the same as writing on Word, but makes doing things like THIS a lot simpler. You'll have already clicked on the various links I've been plugging, inserted just as easily with a couple of button-clicks, you get the idea.

That's more or less all I can think to say on the matter. If you have any questions, leave them in the comments and I'll do my best to reply one way or another.

Best of luck with your own blogs, minions!

On The Road Again. Later.

I know it's been a while since my last blog, and you're all dying to know how Christmas and New Year were, but that will have to wait for now.

Because something happened today. Something that affected me so much that I haven't been so happy in such a long time that I had to blog about it.

I had an audition.

Well of course that's not all, I have auditions every couple of weeks. This was a special audition. An audition for paid acting work with a national TIE touring company. But not only that, a closed audition.

For those that are confused as to the significance of this: an open audition is what you may have seen when Star Wars was looking for the Skywalker Jouniors. Crowds of people, instant dismissal, dreams don't even have chance to form before they're crushed, basically anyone can turn up and have their few seconds of supposed fame. A closed audition means a casting director invites you to meet them and participate, their are a limited number of places available, and if you're lucky you'll get the last one. Which is what happened to me.

I got a voicemail message while I was at work on Thursday. I called on Friday morning but she wasn't in her office. I left my number and a few seconds later I got a call back asking if I wad interested in coming to their London audition. I don't think I could have sounded more keen. Just after 9 this morning I was leaving my house, with an idea for a song in my head (part of the audition) and a bag full of other scripts on my back (I'm busy at the moment).

I found the venue (a dance and music centre) easily enough and was immediately glad to be there. No idea why, it just felt nice. Old building with that performing-arts-until-I'm-demolished feel. After initial introductions we were given two lists of short character speeches, and instructed to choose one from each list to perform for everyone. After embarrassing myself by mishearing someone else's name as my own somewhere in the middle of the group, my name was called (ironically last) and I got up.

And that's when it happened.

I'd decided my first speech would be The Mad Hatter explaining the concept of The Unbirthday, a short and simple speech which a couple of people had done before me. I had been sitting there trying to choose a voice, thinking about who to use from the 'audience', and looking at the lines. Then as soon as I got up I felt a strage sensation of what I can only describe as confidence, and I started to speak.

I cannot tell you what voice I used to perform in, nor the speech I gave, because I didn't look at the script once and the voice was not one I had thought about, but I did enough to earn smiles and applause afterwards. I moved on to my second speech (Gandalf) which was much more according to my previous plans (measured, deep voice, etc) and then sang the first half of Be Prepared which went swimmingly apart from my throat catching - luckily between notes, and as it was unaccompanied it was just a dramatic pause before the crescendo to my audience.

After that ordeal, we got the full explanation of the company and the job, what would be expected of us and what we could expect in return, and then individual interviews. Marie, who was in charge of the whole thing, took me up for my private interview and we chatted about my previous school work, theatre work, and availability. Unfortunately with my current commitments I wouldn't be able to start the tours, according to their plans, in February and because I don't have a full driver's license I wasn't eligible to do a tour starting in March who needed an extra driver. Marie seemed saddened by this, which in the acting world is usually a good sign, so I asked about dates for winter tours (Pantomime). Apparently they can run from as early as September all the way to February. I asked when I could register interest in that, and was told if I emailed her on Monday - after I'd thought about the commitments - along with everyone else for the summer tours, she'd keep me informed. Auditions begin in May but she dismissed my idea of auditioning again, "Oh no, I don't think there's any need for that." She said with a small smile. Another good sign for those of you unfamiliar to acting nuances.

So I got two very interesting points from today:

1. If there was ever any doubt that acting was a career I wanted to pursue, it is gone. Acting is organic to me. I don't even have to think about what I'm doing and people like me enough to laugh, applaud, and offer me work.

2. I have an offer of future work with a well-known and very successful touring TIE company. The excitment of this prospect is difficult to contain.

Now I just have to entertain myself until September, and hopefully find a job which won't mind my vanishing for the winter period.