holiday soon

Living in London as an actress I’ve worked about 25 jobs in 7 years, to keep me living in this city of dreams!  I’ve slowly learnt the art of booking holidays, casting aside that notion of missing the audition of your life, that life is to be lived and not waited on.  So I took the bull by the horns and booked myself a trip to New Zealand and Australia for 5 weeks.  It was a big bull.

I was en route to visit one of my favourite friends from school, but decided to do a two week tour of NZ whilst I was out there.  It was whistle stop but it did manage to reveal the beauty of the country.  A group of about 25 people from all over the world on the road on a coach for five, seven, ten, fourteen days…people joined and left along the way…including my ‘best friend’ Soon!

Now to be fair to her we had a very brief friendship, we didn’t have much to do with each other until our climb up the Fox Glaciers…stunning and awesome.  When we reached the top with our expert guide he suggested we leave our cameras at his feet, walk to the viewpoint and he would take a succession of team photos on the 25 cameras available.  Soon and I were last to the top…scenery not slow!  So by the time we got there cameras were aplenty and I placed my camera beside the others and approached my family of travellers…it was then that I heard a ‘plop’ from behind me, followed calmly by an “oops!”  I turned around to see Soon staring at the ground, actually staring at a puddle.  I walked back towards her quite aware that should my fears be realized Soon could soon find herself hanging off a glacier, and yes, twas as I’d thought, she was actually staring at MY camera in the puddle!

 “Sorry it not my fault” NB. Soon was not from Northern Ireland. 

Rather sternly, I asked “What’s not your fault Soon?”

“It not my fault…it fell in!”

Shoving Soon to the side, I yanked my 2month old digital camera out of its bath, laid it out, dead, and stormed over to join my friends, .  The 24 photo opportunities that followed show a succession of faces from the actress who comes to terms with the fact that her birthday present drowned, her memories will now be on her retinas and not on her computer, through to the fact that I did not lose a limb and no one was hurt…these I believe are rational thoughts.  However for the rest of the trip I renamed Soon…Soon to be dead!  Not to her face! 

I do hope she is not and that she is well.  In fact it was the fault of the guide for asking us to place our cameras beside the only melted pool on the whole glacier…and he knew it!  Language may have been a barrier but the look of guilt is universal.

cycle chic

For those who have read this before I apologise - a brand new story is on its way.  For those who have not, read on!

Today I cycled into Covent Garden from Hackney, parked my bike at Leicester Square to do a bit of shopping and then headed back to cycle to Oxford Circus to meet a friend…When I reached my bike I text my friend to say there would be a delay to my arrival as my bike had been vandalized.  The lock had been totally ripped off, and was gone.  My front tyre was flat, the gears had been messed up and there was a new wire connecting the rear tyre to the bike stand, securing it in place…I couldn’t believe it, my bike was three weeks old, I loved cycling around London and discovering wee nooks and crannies in London town.

So I went to the underground staff at Leicester Square and asked for the local police.  They recommended I head to Charing Cross Police Station.  Access from Agar Street, should you ever need to know.  I queued and waited and got a bit emotional as I told the friendly policewoman that my bike had been abused.  She asked me to take a seat while she tried to locate the Safer Neighbourhood Team.  I met a man who’d just been released from prison after 14 years inside.  A group of people on the street were singing anti Mugabe songs.  Whilst I waited I tried to speak sense to myself, it’s just a bike, no one was hurt, but why had they beaten my bike? Why had they locked it up again? What was the procedure with insurance, reporting the crime?

So I waited and listened to the newly free man rant.  Then I was ushered forward, no one on the Safer Neighbourhood Team was free to help at that time, so I was advised to go back to the underground staff, ask the Transport Police to break through the wire attaching my bike to the stand, retrieve my bike, and bring it home.

So I got back and approached my bike, only to realize that they had in fact also stolen my bike rack, and changed the tyres.  Aghast I raised my eyes a fraction, and looked straight at my bike!…I had spent the best part of an hour reporting and mourning for a bike that was not mine.

Things learnt today, there is more than one maroon bike in London.  Thieves do not steal tyres and replace them with other ones.  If you ever need to report a crime visit www.met.police.uk

Huge Bus

About three years ago I trained as a tour guide for a leading London bus company.  For the purposes of this story we’ll call them ‘HUGE BUS’!   My dream was that whilst not an acting job I would be employed in a creative environment, outside, meeting new people, the potential was huge!  Using voice skills, something I could come back to again and again…yes, well…in reality this meant flying around London on top of a bus in March with about 15 strangers, a group that Channel 4 would have been proud to make a documentary on -no common thread, no age bracket.  And, it has to be said, a truly brilliant teacher…there wasn’t much he did not know about London. 

Throughout the 11 day training course you would be given a section of the Huge Bus Bible, to learn by heart that night and the following day we would run through it a dozen times or so, with each of us getting our chance to speak on the microphone and bring our group of contemporaries on our work in progress tour.  The beauty then is having enough information in your brain to be able to keep speaking for up to half an hour in any spot on the tour map, should you get caught in a traffic jam, a parade, or anything else London throws at you in a day.  The other trick is picking out the essentials that must be pointed out.  For instance, when the light goes green and the driver sees a way to catch up on journey time, essentials like St Paul’s Cathedral, Big Ben are essential to point out…and not as one of my colleagues did….”and now on your right hand side, ladies and gentlemen, the wonderful building society…Alliance and Leicester”!!

One particular day I was in a foul mood, early morning, Sunday, sleet, you’ve got the picture…add to this the following – Huge Bus has clothed me head to toe in the most almighty disgusting uniform you have ever laid your eyes on!  A coat the size of Africa, with luminous stripes lest I get knocked down.  Underneath said sleeping bag coat, I wear a shirt, tie, jumper WITH lapels, all emblazoned with Huge Bus. There are the trousers, my own, so I feel ok about those,  and finally the shoes, the shoes, yes, NHS shoes come to mind, perhaps if you’d had surgery or had one leg shorter than the other, but no, just shoes for a tour guide.  And an emblazoned hat that sells the company in the dark with its luminous yellow writing. 

So back to Sunday, sleet….some delightful tourist has decided to brave the elements and sit up top…so up I go, and sit for 3 hours on a tour pointing out all the sites. Tour ends, I’m frozen.  I head to the nearest coffee shop and get in the queue and this guy, this indecisive guy, is just hovering around the sandwiches, and I have neither the patience nor the inclination to wait until he makes up his mind about egg mayonnaise or tuna with cheese so I scowl and snap ”Are you in the queue or not?” and then things slow down quite significantly.  He looks up and I realize it is him.  As he gazes into my eyes I know I am his long lost love, he will rescue me from my life, he will help me on the road my career is travelling down…he steps back and considers the size of me…that I, in my Huge Bus tent uniform would dare to speak to him like this.  Matt Damon.  He smiles and offers me a space in front of him.  At this point I lose all communicative ability, just smile, shrink and motion that he carry on as before.  Never has a hole in the ground been so necessary and so absent.   As I stood behind him I did wonder if I should say something like “I love your work Matt” or possibly even just plainly “I love you” but I refrain!  I'm not capable of making sounds that sane people make when faced with experiences like this!

I lasted at Huge Bus for 6 weeks, I have completely forgotten most of what I learnt, Matt Damon is actually not that tall, and he seemed very pleasant.  And Sean Bean married an ex Huge Bus tour guide! I presume he met her when she was not in uniform. 

pin up

One of my very first temp jobs, as a naive professional actress, was as a receptionist at a Media Company in Soho.  It was here that I learnt the invaluable art of ALT TAB – the combination necessary to switch from one site to another on your computer in a second, essential for those surprise visits from the person in charge.

For all ye who have never temped, as a receptionist, let me explain a few things about this job.  It does not matter how you dress, how you speak, where you come from, nor even if you arrive on time, you are chaperoned to a reception desk like an elderly aunt, a phone is placed in your hand, while some poor soul explains that when a phone rings you have to pick it up, that to dial out you need to pick up the phone and that you must smile when people enter the building.  Anyway I digress, more on that later...

This reception was incredibly busy, all the time, with visitors for the 23 floors, requests for studios/recordings/lunch dates…the switchboard rang non-stop, and in the midst of this each customer was to be greeted (see above) and sent to the correct floor with access to the right rooms, it took a while but I got there.

It was in this little scene that I received an email saying that my Paypal account had been hacked.  I was most concerned so I followed all the instructions to rectify the situation.  Simply fill in your basic details once more, including the long number on your card, expiry date, security number and pin number…yes…pin number.  Now at this stage most would halt the procedure in hand and remember the age old rule, a bit like putting your hand in a fire, that you never give your pin number to anyone.  Not this day, no, not me.  I filled it all in and with one click the page disappeared.  Busy reception, busy reception, busy reception…not a flicker of concern.

That night whilst chatting to my housemate I mentioned that I’d finally got my PayPal thing sorted.  She rolled her eyes and said “Yeh, what a bloody scam that is!”

“I’m sorry?” 

‘’It’s a scam” she continued, “it asks for your pin number and then it disappears, I mean how many idiots would do that”…

There was a brief pause as my mind fast tracked into images of 10 coins (the status of my bank account) drop into a big bad burglars bag.  

I leapt off the sofa, and yelled  “That was me, I did it, I did that!”

Char attempted to calm me down, “No Rach, you’re fine, you haven’t, they can only get your money if you gave them your pin number”. 

My face drops… “Char…I did”. 

You see Char had known me at this stage for about a year and a half.  I’m not claiming to be some type of Einstein but I have an actual working brain inside my head, I live in the world, I talk to people and even go out for dinner sometimes!  I gave my pin number out on line!

Immediately I’m rifling through bank statements as I try to locate a number for my bank. Time is 2150.  In ten minutes, internet banking, which I haven’t got, shuts down for the night.  I call and plead that they take me seriously.  I chat with this lovely Northern Irish woman, who like Char assures me they can take no money unless I gave out my pin, she chuckles and tells me not to worry.

“Um…the thing is…I kind of did”

Then there is a brief two second hiatus and the phone goes dead

“Hello?”

Two seconds more of silence…the chuckle is no more.  At this point it is necessary to adopt your own  Northern Irish accent, I’ve made it easy to sound out

“YOU GE-AVE THEM YOURRRR PIN NUMBER! Oh dear, oh dear, dear, dear…you NEVER give owt your pin number”

Yes lady, I have by now realized that you never do, in fact I do know, I just went completely mad for a tiny second…so now that it is 2158 can you please stop my account…which she did and for the record I never actually spoke the last bit out loud.  I was at her mercy, I’d have given her my ten coins if it meant the big bad crooks didn’t get them!

It would seem apt at this point to mention that I have never used PayPal, I have no account with them.