A Pseudo-Cinderella Evening

What's more awkward than sharpening your blunt-from-lack-of-practice flirting skills on a cheeky barrista in a coffee shop? Flirting with the barrista and suddenly realising your mother is watching you disapprovingly.

After work yesterday, my mum asked me if I'd be interested in going to a special screening of the opera Tosca at Vue Westfield. I was there in a flash- I love opera, I love cinema, and I've always wanted to go to one of the interesting functions my mum often gets to go to as part of her job (she works for a media production and promotion company). I also saw it as an opportunity to practise my networking skills- I'm a keen writer, but I'm quite a clumsy conversationlist at times because my brain often works faster than my mouth is able to formulate the right words. So, feeling relieved that I always dress well for work anyway and was already wearing a nice dress and boots, I made my way there.

I met mum at the Starbucks near the station there, and went up to grab a hot chocolate, and ended up chatting/ flirting lightheartedly with the barrista guy before remember that my mum was sat right behind me, and was quite opening staring at us. I was all the more mortified when it came to paying and my well-meaning mum suddenly called me and thrust a handful of money in my direction (which I very politely declined, laughing 'thanks, don't worry about it' but dying a bit inside at the same time). At least the barrista guy seemed to appreciate the fact that I stacked everything up neatly before we moved on- having worked in catering before I always make a point of trying to make serving staff's lives as easy as possible.

The rest of the evening was quite surreal- there I was in the posh part of the cinema, smartly dressed and sipping glasses of champagne, eating tiny canapes and schmoozing with other guests (making a joke of the fact that I was only a 'plus one' and that my mum was really the one in the media industry, but no-one seemed to mind), and then going on to see an opera, albeit on screen. At one point I rather inelegantly sent a chunk of feta cheese flying whilst gesturing wildly, which was quite embarrassing (I cleaned it up myself- again, less work for the waiting staff), but far worse embarrassing things have happened to me, so it didn't bother me too much, so it didn't bother anyone else either (I hope).

I think I made a good (read: at very least memorable..!) impression, on the whole, even if I never meet any of these people again. One guy likened me to Katniss from the Hunger Games when me doing archery somehow came into the conversation,which was slightly amusing in an ironic way, seeing as I'd met someone a few days ago who reminded me of Peeta Mellark from the movie version (see my previous entry). Anyway, it was great fun getting to know different people and with just the right amount of glamour without me feeling ridiculous and out of place, and I could get used to that sort of life- although I know it was a one-off. I felt like Cinderella, going around talking to Important People at an Exclusive Event, going home by midnight. In any case, I've definitely come a long way in terms of being able to go around a room and talk to strangers by myself, and I hope I can only get better.

I also hope I get better at keeping small cubes of cheese on little blinis as opposed to on the floor, too.

~Fin~

Afterword: I wrote a short article about Vue cinema's campaign to bring opera to the silver screen and make it more accessible to the masses, I'll post a link or something when I figure out where to publish it.

My First Metal Concert/ People-Sniffing

I have been listening to Nightwish since I was about fifteen years old- so ten years, then. Not only have I never seen them live before, but I've never seen any band live, so I was pretty damn excited for my first one to be Nightwish.

I queued up outside the Birmingham O2 Academy with my friend Lucia in my black skinny jeans, burgundy biker-style jacket and great big boots just in case anyone would be treading on anyone else's feet (I figured I'd go for the 'crush or be crushed' approach), brimming with anticipation and yes, a little bit of fear too- another friend had warned me about things like walls of death and circle pits (both forms of extreme moshing- look them up on YouTube for an idea of the carnage that can occur), and I was warned to avoid the front and stay towards the back.

So, of course, you can guess where I ended up being chivvied.

I needn't have worried though- although there was the odd bit of pushing and shoving up at front, the crowd was quite diverse in age and nature and, for the most part, surprisingly courteous to each other. At one point a quad of loudmouthed yobs tried to start a wall of death by bodyslamming around, but to my amusement were met with very icy and very British glares all round from long-haired young metalheads to more mature-looking revellers alike. It was a real mix of real people- mostly of student stock, of course, but plenty of people in the next tier of age like myself, and quite a few more seasoned concert goers, too. I even saw an old boy in a wheelchair up in the circle.

However, I happened to have two freaking weird people behind me for a large portion of the concert. The guy, who I shall refer to as Curlybonce for his mop of corkscrew hair, was as dull as a marshmallow spoon, and the girl- possibly his girlfriend- who I shall refer to as Rainbowhead for her admittedly awesome rainbow-striped hair, was, well... anyway, Curleybonce's eyes looked like this: =_= and Rainbowhead's eyes looked like this: O_O, so they were both at very least thoroughly marinated. Throughout the supporting band Pain's performance I was vaguely aware of someone pressing up right against my back and almost in the crook of my neck, but hey, I was more or less in a mosh pit (although people were only really lightly moshing at the best of times), so it didn't really bother me much (and certainly not as much as later on when a big guy was flush against me and there was something not-quite-right digging into my back... again, I chalked that up to a hazard of being in the stalls).

I think it was when the supporting band Pain went offstage that I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rainbowhead's nose about two inches from mine, her wide eyes staring into my soul. She said to me in hushed tones,

"Excuse me, but you smell absolutely incredible."

Er.

"I do?" My super-friendly defence mechanism kick-started itself and I grinned like a maniac. "Haha, aww, thank you!"

"Yes, you smell amazing." She edged closer and I tried and failed to take a step back, having nowhere to go in the sardine can that was the front of the stalls. "Tell me, what do you use?"

"It's this new oil perfume from Lush- do you know Lush?" I said, feeling more like I was in my element now (being a Lush fan for many years and having worked for them at one point). "It's called Sikkim Girls." I smiled and turned around, thinking I'd done my job and been helpful. I felt the small hand on my shoulder again and turned around, Rainbowhead's face still occupying the same amount of my personal space as it had before.

"Is it Vanillary?"

"Er... no it's... it's Sikkim Girls. It's more of a-"

"Hey guys you really need to check this out, come over and smell her she smells amazing!" Rainbowhead had whipped around to address Curlybonce and a few others apparently from their group, and she whipped back round at me. "Come back here so everyone can smell you!"

Feeling quite like I was quite back out of my element again, I faltered. "I'm really quite happy right here where I am, thank you..."

"Aww, but I want everyone to check your perfume out, come on!"

"Um, no?"

Lucia (keeping in mind this is the same friend who I mentioned a while back got married in June), who had been previously jostled relentlessly by Rainbowhead's erratic 'dancing' and was watching in disbelief, rounded on Rainbowhead and told her to cut it out.

"Oh," Said Rainbowhead in a mock-conspiratory tone to me, "I'd better leave you alone, I don't think your friend- or girlfriend, whichever- likes me."

"Just friend", I laughed, just as Lucia snapped "Her friend, actually."

Rainbowhead shrugged and smiled dreamily. "Friend, girlfriend, who knows?"

"I know, and I'm telling you." Lucia retorted (as I tried not to laugh even harder at my friend's loyal outrage on my behalf and at this girl's obliviousness). Lucia gritted her teeth as Rainbowhead imitated her voice and turned her back to her.

As for Curlybonce, he kept shoving into me and elbowing me in the head for most of the supporting act until I yelled 'Oi' and Lucia poked him and told him to back off (met only with this face: =_= and without a word). Then, later on when marshals were getting us to pass cups of water down to the rest of the crowd, he wouldn't take it.

'=_=', He gazed at me.

"Please pass this on," I politely requested, feeling that it should have been plainly obvious to him that this was the general idea of passing water back but trying to remain gracious.

His gormless gaze took on a slightly annoyed look, and he didn't budge an inch.

And very suddenly, I lost my patience.

"At-least-pass-the-damned-thing-on," I snarled at him, shoving the cup closer to his face. His face took on a slightly more affronted look, and he slowly and wordlessly took the cup of water from me and passed it behind him.

Thankfully the two of them moved on shortly after. The concert itself was amazing though, with a lot of my favourites played- and I got to see the keyboardist/ main composer Tuomas in the flesh, whom I used to have a bit of a thing for when I first got into Nightwish (I mentally high-fived my past teenage self when he settled on the same side of the stage as where I was facing). Also, for the few annoying sods that there were, the presence of a few nice one made all the difference- we got talking a bit to a guy called Kevin from Devon, who seemed like a genuinely nice dude and we thought looked a bit like Peeta Mellark from the Hunger Games (Kevin, if you ever stumble across this blog, you're mad for going back to work in Devon literally the day after and I hope you got home alright), and there was another girl just in front of us who was quite friendly too.

All in all, I felt it was quite genteel for a metal concert- certainly it was good fun. I'm glad no circle pits or anything happened, despite a handful of idiots' best efforts. Now if only I could get a hold of some infamously illusive tickets to see Muse (which usually sell out in minutes and are subsequently found on eBay for a shocking amount)... it certainly won't be my last band concert, that's for sure.

~Fin~

Thigh-Deep in Floods and My Worst Nightmare (Part 2)

You'd have thought the bizarreness would have ended the moment we got out of the floods.

Part 2: My Worst Nightmare

I'll cut straight to the chase- my worst nightmare has always been, since the age of four (which was when I began learning to play the piano), going into a concert completely unprepared. The very thought of going out onto some sort of stage in front of an audience to play music whilst not knowing what on Earth I'm supposed to be doing breaks me out into a cold sweat. Because I am so, so organised as a person, I made sure this never, ever happened.

You can see where I'm going with this, can't you?

It all started a week earlier when Ruthie texted me asking if I was free to visit the following weekend (the weekend just gone by, now). Then as we were negotiating the timing of when I was coming and going, it turned out that Ruth was playing in a small concerty thing in a church on the Saturday night- after checking with her group, it was fine that I could come watch.

Four days before I was due to visit, I got a tentative text from Ruthie asking if maybe we could play something together- her on the violin, me on the piano. I was really enthusiastic- I haven't performed in ages! And it seemed we were to do a Spanish dance by De Falla- something I was already familiar with.

Of course though, when we got to hers and got the instruments out, it turned out that I knew a very different De Falla Spanish dance. And I'd completely overlooked the fact that I couldn't sightread on the piano to save my life, despite being a diploma-level pianist (the short unprepared study was hilarious when I did the exam). I can pick something up instantly on flute or voice, but give me something with two lines that I have to play with both hands on the spot for something over grade 4 standard and I'm pretty much useless. Neither of us can improvise, and in the end all we could do together was a short version of Bach's Ave Maria.

So in the end poor Ruthie played the guitar and sang instead of doing the show-stopping De Falla. And guess who had an hour to remember pieces of music I haven't played in years to play by heart, to now play solo?

Cold sweat.

We went to Ruthie's friend's house to do some last minute-rehearsal. They were going to pretty much finish the concert with the Sailor's Hornpipe, which is what always ends the last night of the Proms in London, if you've ever seen it. Everyone has a horn and goes 'honk honk' in the appropriate places. At the moment it was Ruthie on the violin and her friend's father on recorder- but then the idea emerged that I could play along on the piano at the same time. All I had to do was work out the correct chord sequence in five minutes.

Cold sweat.

I did just that, though. It wasn't hard- I've always been decent at harmonisation- but it was a bit daunting under pressure.

With that sorted, we went to the church (at which point Ruthie realised she'd left half her music back at her friend's). She was able to improvise though- and it wasn't so bad, because out first duty was to play the audience in as they grabbed a Pimms and began to settle down. Ruthie's friend's sister played the saxophone, followed by Ruth on her violin, both behind a screen to provide background music.

When it came to my turn, I realised that the piano was not behind a screen- it was in full view of everyone

Cold sweat.

I settled down and played I Giorni by Ludivico Einaudi (I can always fall back on Einaudi when in a pinch, and play it by heart). At first it was just pleasant background music. Then gradually, as I had dreaded and predicted, the room began to fall silent, bit by bit. Everyone must have though I was performing for real.

I heard a small patch of people doggedly keeping up conversation, and knew with gratitude it must be Ruth and her friends trying to keep up some noise for my sake (she told me later they had to stop because people were giving them dirty looks). In any case, I did what I did best (looked like I was cool and in control whilst I was bricking it inside) and finished with near-nonchalance. It was just about the right time to start the real concert by now, so at least I'd made a nice introduction I suppose. Just not one that I was prior aware of!

We all managed to do our stuff- it turns out that we weren't the only ones quite unprepared! However like true musicians, we pulled it off and the audience were none the wiser. I think. I even managed to do a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' with about twenty seconds' notice for someone in the audience. It was the last instrumental piece that put the king in the cake, though.

The sailor's hornpipe.

I noticed that there were a load of those party horns/ mini vuvuzela things around, and I realised that the audience really was going to participate and do the proper Proms honk-honking to the music. But how were we going to let the more inexperienced participants in the audience know when to start coming in?

And that was how I ended up playing the piano with a mini vuvuzela jammed in my mouth.

~Fin~

The Sailors Hornpipe

Thigh-Deep in Floods and My Worst Nightmare (Part 1)

I've just had the weirdest weekend (or at least, Saturday), ever.

Part 1: Thigh-Deep in Floods

Ruthie (Mobile): Morning! What's your footwear like? Am thinking the fields are gonna be mudtastic! xxx

Me (Mobile): I've got waterproof walking boots in prep for ruralness. =P And flat ballet pumps for later! xxx

Ruthie (Mobile): My kinda girl! xxx

And to think I was proud that I'd thought to wear my waterproof walking boots...

This weekend I was visiting my good friend Ruthie, who lives in Leicester. It was a very last-minute thing, Ruthie having finished her first year postgrad medicine exams and had the news of passing, and we were also playing in a very last-minute concert later that evening (more on that in Part 2...) She lives in a lovely village near Sileby, which I've visited once before. It's very green, and the sort of place that many people in the city wish they could escape to now and again.

Knowing we might be crossing some damp fields to get from Sileby station to Ruthie's house, I donned my trusty walking boots. I was dimly aware that there had been flooding across the country, but Leicester hadn't really been in the limelight in the news, so I assumed it'd be okay.

I could not have been more wrong.

I got to Leicester station from London St Pancras with my big Sainsbury's bag full of lovingly decorated and packaged cupcakes, which I had baked the night before for Ruthie, her husband Tom and her friends (who'd be providing me with food later) as a 'thank you' for having me.

I was in the station café whilst waiting for my connecting train to Sileby, nursing a rather lackluster and disappointing hot chocolate and the biggest banana muffin I have ever met, when my phone rang.

'Hello!!' said Ruthie.

Slosh. Slosh.

'Hi', I said, ignoring the weird watery sounds and the obvious double exclamation mark in my friend's voice for the time being. 'I'm just in Leicester station about to get the Sileby train. Y'allright?'

'Yes!! Er... yes! I'm sort of in a field...'

It turned out that the sloshing sound was Ruthie wading through knee-deep water, the flood already way over the tops of the wellies she had had the insight to wear to come and meet me at the station.

'Okay,' I said, after I'd gotten over my initial disbelief at the mad situation my poor friend was in, 'We can take a road route instead of going cross-country and avoid the worst of it.'

'The road we took the last time you visited?'

~FLASHBACK TO LAST WINTER~

Ruthie and I walked along a very non pedestrian-friendly road from the station in pitch darkness, with nothing but her slightly smashed up phone as a source of light, serving more as a warning to oncoming cars than as a way for us to see ahead and not fall into a ditch in the countryside that flanked us. When a car did come, we jumped into the bushes and flattened ourselves out as best we could whilst trying to avoid nettles and thorns invisible to us in the dark of night.

It was either this, or walk across the fields in the dark of night and potentially fall into a river.

~ END FLASHBACK~

'At least it's light out this time?' I offered.

Eventually I got to Sileby and sure enough met Ruthie, her jeans very obviously sodden well past her knees. We set off on a route we hadn't taken before, after consulting Tom (Ruthie's husband) over the phone. The 'ROAD CLOSED' sign should have been a clue. In fact it probably did register at the back of our minds- but at the time it was the only real option we had other than going across the flooded fields like Ruthie had. So we soldiered onwards.

 As we went along the road, Ruthie pointed out to me how flooded the fields around us were, and indeed it was like they had been transformed into lakes, with the tops of bushes and trees sprouting from them.

When we came to a fork in the road, one of the paths was completely submerged, and Ruthie called Tom up again to make sure we took the right one. Thankfully we needed to take the dry one- although our celebrations were premature, as you'll find out in a moment. As we set off down the right path, a small white van with the words 'boat hire' came splashing through the flooded one.

'Now that's just what we need,' I joked to my friend- an unknowing and, now that I think about it, almost chilling fortelling of what we were about to face.

As soon as we came to our first flooded patch, it was instantly clear that my waterproof boots weren't going to do me an ounce of good. As for my friend, who had already had her wellies submerged and then some, her wellies had actually stopped being watertight, so even though at this point her footwear should have given her some protection, she was just as bad off as I was.

The water rose higher and higher, and the current got stronger and stronger. Soon it was mid-way up to our thighs, and we were struggling with wading in a straight line and hitching our bags up to protect our belongings from getting damp- and of course, the precious, precious Sainsbury's bag of cake.

At some point Ruthie relieved me of cake duty and took a turn at carrying the bag high in the air above the water, since we were pretty much consistently up to our thighs in flood water now. Here's where some perfect, perfect irony happened.

Whilst Ruthie was on cake duty and we were joking about how the cake was the most important thing to save, I told her a story about how I'd sacrificed myself to save a cake a few years ago (a story I haven't posted here). Back in my teaching days, I'd baked a nice big Victoria sponge with jam and cream as a Christmas present for my class for the last day of term before the holidays. It had been snowing heavily for days, and the ground had frozen over, overnight- it was very, very icy. During my morning walk to the bus stop, the inevitable happened, and I went flying- and my first instinct was to save the cake. So I dived forwards with my hands outstretched, ensuring the cake would never impact against the ground. My face, however, did.

It had barely been five minutes that I'd told this story when Ruthie suddenly slipped off the pavement and into a ditch, having not seen where the pavement had ended beneath the deep and murky water. She was now waist-high in muddy flood water, arms windmilling and wobbling to keep some semblance of balance- but with the bag of cupcakes safely held high over her head.

(I'm almost ashamed to say that at this point I plucked the bag out of her hands and took a picture of her to put up on Facebook later).

And so we continued, encountering a few brave cyclists, one who actually went over sideways (an old gent who was a real trooper when we spoke to him), a jeep that had also been flooded, a brave and frantically swimming vole we attempted to rescue and, both strangely and beautifully, an array of bright blue dragonflies and red admiral butterflies flitting around, clearly in their element. Less beautiful were the occasional biting horseflies, which turned my friend and I, usually both quite confident with Mother Nature, into flailing and squealing little girls (but seriously, have you seen the damage those little bastards can do?). At one point we also came across a flooded pub car park, with one lone and very confused duck swimming around. We were most definitely, however, the only pedestrians that had braved the route.

We eventually emerged from our watery path, my boots now squelching and heavy with all the water they had soaked up and Ruthie pausing every so often to perform an almost balletic pose, where she'd lean over forwards and crook one leg upwards so the flat of her foot was pointing skywards, to drain her wellies of flood water. We thought of all the drain water that we must have waded through, and decided a shower was very much in order when we got to hers.

Ruthie told me during all this that she was glad it was me that she was with, because I have such a good sense of humour. To this I say: how on Earth could you get yourself into this situation, and not laugh?

The cakes are safe!

~End of Part 1~