So she's back.

The Unknown Actress got married.

She got a 'proper' job, you know, a PAYE one, a 'sit at your desk' job, yes, the one she had avoided all her life and then after three months of major adjustment, LOVED.

She stopped talking about herself in the third person and instead added a third person to the marriage. A son.  There are more than a few photos of him posted out there.

I lost my 'sit at a desk' job because it moved out of London, and then so did we.  To different places.

We moved back to Northern Ireland.

I stopped acting for a while. That was helpful for me. For now, but perhaps not for life.

I am now the thing that I dreamt of when I was a little girl.  While one part of me longed to be on a stage singing into a mic, (I used to sing), a huge part of me longed to be a wife and a mummy. Which I now know is the dream version of said wife and mummy role.

Sunlight seeping through large windows,
creamy shades and hues and fresh flowers,
something amazing baking or in a slow cooker,
I have beautiful wavy hair and I am calm and lovely,
Washing dries on the line and everyone is happy,
and we fall asleep thankful for another day and excited for the next.

That is 'dream Rach' the reality is somewhat different.

Not because we live in a house with no windows and not because I made it up but because I am not calm, I am often not thankful, and I, in my 30s, realize that I am a massive dreamer, I long for the best, the best, the best, perfection, and yet because this is 2017 on earth, perfection is not here in full but in wee bits of the day, the most natural bits I'd say, like trees (they're pretty perfect).

So here I shall write my dreams and my reality moments.  And I'll try keep it fun.

Written in 2017; posted in 2019.

Dog walker

Twas another day, another audition. 

I received the breakdown for the advert the night before.  The whole advert is to take place on a garage forecourt and will be filmed predominantly on CCTV.

They need to see me for one of three parts but at this stage they don’t know which one they want to see me for. 

First up, female taxi driver, must be able to actually drive.  She is checking her tyre pressure and is singing loudly along to the radio.

Second, a dog walking lady who lets her dog pee on the forecourt and gets yelled at by an angry man.

Third, a frisky girlfriend playfully dancing to the garage forecourt music whilst she washes the car.

A decade of auditions has taught me not to put myself in the prettier girl league, so with this knowledge accepted and intact, I focus on the roles of taxi driver and dog walker, and put myself firmly in dog walker attire and mindset.

Bring on the audition. 

In Soho. 

I walk there from my temp job through the throngs of people on their lunch break, past the doors and alleys where you can get a girl to do a number of things for only a fiver.  I am genuinely upset by how degrading some of the doorsteps and signs on doors look.  Deep in thought I walk on to my audition.

After a short wait I am summoned in, with a holler of my name, into a room with a casting lady and her camera man.  She is loud but charming and fun.  After looking me up and down and pausing…I’d dressed in a fleece (subliminal message – I am a dog walker, walking a dog, I’d look great as a dog walker, I should be cast right now based on my fleece) she spoke;

“Ohhhhhhhhhh K….Right, so you are on a garage forecourt…

And…

Your boyfriend, of maybe six months, is in the car and you are washing the car, mainly the bonnet.  I want a few winks and cheeky smiles at him, you’re enjoying yourself, you’re not actually trying to seduce him, you’re just playful.  Keep your arms up here…” she gestures at a bonnet about hip height (an invisible bonnet), “and just keep going til I tell you to stop”.

As she walks away from me, she points in the air at her camera man and says ‘Hit it!’

Beyonce blares out – so loud, so loud that I can’t really hear her speak anymore, and suddenly I am dancing, rubbing my hands up and down an invisible bonnet winking at my invisible boyfriend.

She screams,

“Shake your hips a bit more,

Now up and down,

Yep, great, that’s it!

A few more winks.

Great.

More hips…”

We did it three times.

And I did not get the job.

I walked back through the streets I had just poured out prayers on and observed that these ladies got one thing right.  They made sure they got paid money for taking off their fleece and dancing.  I did it for free.  For strangers.  On camera.  And that, my friends, is what you call a jobbing actor.

Never Knowingly Undersold.

I grew up in Northern Ireland and was born in the 80s. 

Growing up, London had sunshine, Wimbledon, M&S foodhalls and John Lewis.  If anyone ever headed to the mainland John Lewis was a much talked about tourist destination.

I turned 18, moved to England, became accustomed to having John Lewis in my neighbourhood and then aged 29 got engaged.  (Is this not the briefest history of someone's life you have ever read?)

29 years of never believing I would ever get close to putting on a white dress, of choosing dresses for my bridesmaids, of imagining flowers and colours and cakes and food to eat and guest numbers and ... a gift list.

I generally shy away from the idea of such a thing.  Appalled at the idea of sending someone a list of things they can buy for you, apparently it allows for several things - the inability to be bought 17 kettles, the fact that friends and family wish to bless you with an item for your new married life and the fact that these things are very welcome to a newly wed couple.  

It is with delight that I switch on our gorgeous new kettle - the last one had to be put on its stand at a certain angle and talked to in French to make it work.  Anyway I digress.

We ventured to John Lewis one cold Saturday in February, we were commissioned with a zapper and after a few teething problems from zapping nothing to zapping everything on one stand we finally got to grips with our zapper and went a bit crazy.  We got a voucher for complimentary coffee and a cake, it was a tad overwhelming, and to keep ourselves entertained we added a pram for over a grand and some onion goggles ( neither, thank god, were purchased!)

Then the dream with John Lewis ended.  The list. Not the gift one. Is endless.
  
"If you don't manage to zap everything you like today items can be added via the website" they delighted in informing us.  We couldn't though.  The website was under construction.
  
Our friends bought us some lovely things and we would then get contacted to say "No, the items bought are no longer in stock, no longer being made or maybe, have you perhaps, even dreamt them up yourselves? "

Now it took a while but finally they agreed to only contact us via email.  
Why?
Well, before the wedding, during the wedding, and whilst on honeymoon I had 6, 5-minute conversational messages from...
My mum? 
NO. 
A friend? 
NO.
no no NO.  
A selection of Scotland's finest cheeriest phone operators informing me that storage jars were out of stock.   5 minutes, and that is not an exaggeration.
Now I love a Scot, a man who one day I hope will be my brother-in-law I could not love more and yet my love for the nation ( my kindred nation) dwindled with every 'Och aye', and breath.

One day we will be blessed with another delivery of very welcomed, lovely gifts, they may not be the ones our friends bought us but we will love them the same. 

We are exceptionally blessed to have any gifts to open at all, I know, and this is not the biggest worst drama in the world.  

There will however arrive a glimmer of delight when we disown the gift list number to the memoirs of history and move forward without a green and white bag in sight and with our real Scottish friends calling and not strangers.

Relight My Fire

How many firemen does it take to check an alarm?

Three. 

One to look hot, one to remind you which borough you’re in and one to do the job.

Such was my afternoon a few months ago, when my dear housemate insisted we were unsafe in the house.  Our fire alarm had recently reminded us of its existence by screaming…over a wisp of smoke that arose one day from an excited piece of toast.  But not within his earshot, so he arranged for a free check-up care of the fire service.  Amazing.

The visit was booked for 11am and as I was working from home that day, I couldn’t wait to meet my new friend. 

There was no show. 

I had been alerted to the fact that if he did not show up, he had most probably been called to an emergency so when at 12 noon there was still no show, I went for a run.

 

I got back, sat down to lunch and there the bell went a ringing.  On opening the door I saw three very large men, in uniform, crammed on the top step of the porch.  Shocked.  And slightly in awe, I stared at them.  They too seemed shocked.  They were expecting a male.

So in they came, tested the first alarm and it worked.  Embarrassed, I apologised for wasting their time.  They were not perturbed.

Two disappeared upstairs with their big clumping boots for a mere two minutes while the Model Fireman waited.  I think he was their Senior Person.  ‘The Knowledge’ on all things fire, safety and face creams.  We stood there looking at each other whilst he silently surveyed the house, and listened to his two comrades flailing about upstairs.

Then Hackney Fireman arrives in the hall and speaks,

“Listen love we’ve fitted two new fire alarms.”

I think he expected me to faint or something.

He carried on…”Don’t try and change the battery yourself, you’ll have to call us back. You need to tell your landlord that he’s in serious breach of contract here.  If you’ll pardon my French your fire alarm is f**ked.”

During this lecture the Worker Fireman finds a ladder, and goes off to fit another alarm…the reason all 3 are here let us not forget. 

Two of these firemen are now in my kitchen and I don’t quite know what to do.  Two uniformed men in my kitchen, and one upstairs doing work.  Model fireman stands in the corner smouldering. 

Hackney man continues…

“You’re from Northern Ireland?”

 “Um…yes.”  How exactly does this relate to my fire safety at home?

“How long you been here?”

Seriously mate is this part of your fire safety talk?  “Um…8 years”

“8 YEARS”…he screams…”BLOODY ‘ELL, how old ARE you then?”

Stunned I answer.  “29”

“Bloody hell love… you don’t look THAT old!”

Model Fireman remains silent whilst Worker Fireman returns with tales of success of a third fire alarm fitted, and all three take an age to leave the house. 

As I write this the fire alarm squeaks, the squeak of a Fire alarm low on battery.  Except it’s not, it just got fitted.

Lessons learnt:

Fit firemen don’t fit alarms, they observe from afar.

Audition - it's what we do.

Tis a great feeling when your agent calls and says that you, yes you, have been selected to meet with someone regarding a job. 

It was with such delight and urgency that I received a call about five years ago for a musical going to the Edinburgh Fringe.  An audition for a musical about mental illness.  I had it in the bag surely.  Whilst training, a director told me he was sure I’d been a schizophrenic in a previous life so convincing was my portrayal on stage.

Like buses I went for a few weeks without one casting and then a string of mentally unstable characters in theatre and TV came along…I’ve had to surrender to the possibility of ever playing pretty.  Recently I waltzed up to an audition beaming as I was called for the pretty flirty wee thing…on arrival I was quickly corrected.  “NO.  Today you’ll be auditioning for Ellen…older, plainer, bitter.”

Anyway back to mental illness. The real life subject not to be laughed at but could this musical really be serious? I hadn’t seen a script so had visions of choruses of “I’m mad, you’re mad, we’re all mad together” running through my head.

I was quite inexperienced in the art of auditioning at the time.  But even now I have to fight the demons of insecurity when you hear the person before you doing their thing.  The brief…the old familiar chestnut.  Prepare one piece two minutes long and a song of your choice.  Simple.

I entered a room and was greeted by a young couple behind a table in front of the brightest light.  It was like the sun had landed on the pavement outside and was shining straight at me.  Almost hidden from sight was a pianist.  As a trio they were not ogres, terrifying and grizzly.  They were in fact quite pleasant.  So I don’t know what happened on passing through that door into the room of light but henceforth that following 15 minutes would go down in history as my worst audition.

Now perhaps I should not be so bold to profess this yet.  I am not yet dead, who knows what lies ahead but I pray I have learnt a lot from this experience.

I started my monologue, one I’d performed a fair few times before…and approximately 30 seconds in I completely forgot what I was doing, where I was, who I was.  Now this perhaps could have been seen as perfect for such a musical as this.  But no!  The idea is to cast an actor who could play mental illness not someone suffering from a condition.  It was awful.  I stuttered, then staggered my way through the piece, my brain trying to grab any semblance of control.  I found it, but was shaken.  My audience looked shocked…and not with pleasant surprise.

Next, the song.  Surely something could be regained.  Surely.  Something.  And so the pianist started.  And off I set too.  A dainty little ditty from my home country…except the old brain had started to engage with what had just happened. 

And so I started to go slightly red at the cheek.  Singing my Irish ditty I started to focus on trying not to blush, which we all know works so well, and continued to get redder and redder and redder.  By this stage my audience have signed me over to be committed.  Song ended.  Brief chat.  And I ran out of that room.  Straight on the tube.  Back to my house and burst into uncontrollable tears.  After finishing four years of training, performing professionally and countless times as a kid, I couldn’t even stand in front of 3 nice people.  I could, I can, I will.  It just would seem sometimes our best days are not every day.  Sometimes madness catches you unawares and sometimes perhaps your finest performances are in real life.

Meeting An Appearance

Appearances can be deceiving.

I have two reports on this very fact from this week.

First up, I am now working at a chocolate store and café…a place where you might stay and where you buy chocolate minus the ‘e’.  Located in the centre of London we get the odd celebrity buyer…Justin Lee Collins, Gina McKee to name but a few.  And my guest of all guests.

I did not recognise him by sight but by voice.  Flying past him whilst he was at the counter I turned 360 to see the beholder of said voice.  One I had heard many times on re runs, one usually so full of exasperation and here he was ordering a latte.

It was Clive Swift; most famously known as Richard from Keeping Up Appearances.  This may have gone unnoticed apart from the fact that I love this show.  It is brilliant, I love Patricia Routledge.  I love the writing and the performance.  I was in awe.  I’ve watched Clive Swift (albeit a younger version) for many a Christmas/ Sunday afternoon.  He is great.

Now we all remember my success in meeting these people who are known from the world of movies and TV (Huge Bus)

I was so confused as to whether it was him.  The voice said so but he looked older.  I observed him from afar for what seemed hours whilst deliberating whether or not to approach. Was it rude to? Was I an annoyance?  I took three steps forward, six steps back...about three times and then suddenly I was at his side poking him.

He turned around.

“I’m really sorry to bother you” I start nervously, “but I just want you to know that I love your work”…yes I did use that phrase! “I’ve watched you all my life and think you’re great.”

His face is shocked.

Then I freak out thinking “Dear God this is not him, this is not Clive Swift, this is some poor unsuspecting member of the public.”

I continue rather frantically, “I mean you are the guy who played Richard, with Hyacinth Bucket, I mean Patricia Routledge, it’s you…isn’t it?

Silence.

Then his voice, “Yes, yes it is, thank you, gosh, thank you very much.”

Delighted I throw my hand into his with a ‘My name’s Rachel and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

And with that I pick up my chocolate and skip off.

When he’s leaving a bit later he comes up and chats with me asking me what it’s like to work at this chocolate place to stay! I tell him I’m an actor and we then have a mighty chat involving the Actors Centre which he set up, mutual friends and general good cheer.

He came back the next day and asked after me. I’d rather he asked casting directors to ask for me but we all must start somewhere!

Then I had an audition for a 22 year old flirty pretty Irish girl.  I thought all my wishes had come true.  Someone had seen my profile picture and thought I was pretty.  Very pleased with myself I did my hair, made my make up nice and turned up only to be greeted with “Ah yes, you’re going to audition now for Ellen.”

“Who?”

“Oh she’s 27, bitter and plain…”

Yes, appearances can be deceiving.

Life is a Musical

Never did I think when I got cast as the lead in Redundancy The Musical that I would actually be made redundant.  So my New Year’s resolution is to gain employment in ‘Happily Married with Kids The Musical’, and ‘Really Exciting Acting Job, Never Have to Temp Again The Musical’…in fact even ‘Dating The Musical’ would suffice for now!

Yes the days of cold calling green accommodations throughout the UK are behind me…as apparently are the days of paid work.

I recently went for an audition for a huge event that is happening this year.  I am unable to say anything about it apart from the fact that I got recalled…”Excellent!” I hear you cry.  Yes, excellent, yes indeed for a…hip hop class. 

Now for those of you who do not know me, there is nothing in first meeting with me that might lead you to believe I was hiding any such hidden moves…but someone in the Events Team thought they saw hip hop spirit within me.  And I will discover in about two weeks if it is indeed anywhere near me!  At my recall I was sporadically placed between the two best dancers of the 200 present; a hot, tall, black teenager and a cutesey elfin Irish girl; both of whom had the moves like they’d choreographed the whole routine.  I feel I may be watching both my new friends from the comfort of my living room but time will tell. 

And yes the delay in writing for a while was because the unknown actress started making contacts – hurrah!  A lot of them unpaying contacts but hey you’ve got to start somewhere! Oh yes, hang on, I did…seven years ago!  But anyway a comedy night, a musical, a trip to act in Israel and Palestine and a chance to be involved in that huge event that’s happening this summer all happened over a couple of months so long may that continue.

Here ends a brief intro to the New Year from the Unknown Actress so…

Happy New Year of Olympic proportions…may everything bloom apart from our waistlines!...unless you’re pregnant, in which case congratulations!