Freshers

Is it strange that I am enjoying Freshers a lot more now that I am not a Fresher? I don’t think so. There will be others who think of Freshers as one of the best weeks of their lives, but if I could turn back time…well, I wouldn’t. Although, I’d happily take the first year work load.

So that’s me back in Glasgow. For good. And I’m loving it! Maybe it’s because I know it’s my last year here so I’m all filled up with love – I love my squeaky, taped up bed; I love my crazy carpet that clashes with everything; I love the mice – actually, no, I will never love the mice. They look weird and scary and are getting too cocky for their own good. But I do love everything else and really will miss it come next year. I don’t even want to think about next year – I think I accidentally told the Spar I could work for them, but I’m hoping I passed it off as a joke. I mean, it’s a nice job and everything, but I would like to work somewhere else – got to keep Better Together happy as well. Oh God, I wish I was there for the referendum – Better Together must be absolutely shitting himself right now and I’d love to see what stops he’s pulling to persuade people to vote NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! He’s probably manically burning every single copy of Braveheart.

So now that I’m back in Glasgow, I should get back to the tourist-in-my-own-city blog, although it might just be a bunch of theatre this year – RADA’s made me a tad obsessed. I saw A Streetcar Named Desire last night and holy fucking cow, was it INCREDIBLE. Gillian Anderson was Blanche from her very core and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. On our first day at RADA, they asked us what “good” theatre was and I still don’t know – I mean, I know when I see good theatre, but I can’t analyse WHY it’s good apart from the fact that you get that nice feeling in your tummy. And goosebumps. I almost what to get a bus to London tonight so I can see it in the theatre. There’s a debate in the Theatre World right now about streaming plays in cinemas. Some think it’ll stop people from going to the theatre and that once again, the modern world is taking something personal and making it impersonal, but I am so happy they do it – I would never have seen this play if they didn’t. And I don’t think it’ll make less people go to the theatre as I think theatre lovers will always choose seeing it in the flesh if they can and it just gives those who can’t afford the time and money to travel to London, the chance to see these amazing plays. If you haven’t seen Streetcar, GO BOOK TICKETS. The whole cast was good, but Gillian Anderson was something special – I don’t know how she gets on the stage and does that every night. It’s one of the most haunting plays I’ve ever seen.

GUSH, GUSH, GUSH.

I’m going to see The Full Monty next week, which is meant to be hilarious. Also, I think there might be naked men on stage – woop, woop! Jokes. This doesn’t make me excited. Nudity on the stage actually makes me very uncomfortable (AAARRRGHH A PENIS, AAARRRGHH A VAGINA; WHERE DO I LOOK; WHERE DO I LOOK?!?!?!?!), but at least I’m not sitting at the front. I really don’t understand the people who sit at the front. A play is so raw, personal, and in the moment – who the hell wants a moment staring them in the face? I like to be a least 50 feet away from any moment.

But as for now, I should really, really, REALLY do some work on my dissertation. I have the scariest supervisor in the whole University and if I don’t have any work to show after FOUR MONTHS, he will kill me, stuff me, and then pin me up in his office like a stag head as a warning to all students.

But maybe I can fob him off with some milk chocolate hobnobs…

A Neurotic in London

I can’t believe that I’ve actually made it and you know what? It was so easy! Definitely not worth the ever so slight panic attack I had yesterday. BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING I’M GOING TO GET LOST I MIGHT SUFFOCATE ON THE TUBE I CAN’T EVEN ACT THEY’LL ALL LAUGH AT ME I PROBABLY CAN’T EVEN READ I AM MUCH HAPPIER IN THE SPAR BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE.

Now, I can’t yet speak for the acting and people laughing at me (I’m in London for a wee summer school at RADA), but the journey really was easy peasy lemon squeezy. I calmed down somewhat after a vodka at the pub my friend was working in and then calmed down some more when I got on the KNIGHT BUS (take it away Earl) and had my very own bed. I actually calmed down so much that my tummy started rumbling; having neglected to eat that day, I found that I was pretty damn hungry. But no matter, I just dreamt of the fry up I would get when I arrived and fell asleep going over my lines. I didn’t even panic when I woke up and found myself in London. It seemed like such a short journey that I think my psyche has been tricked into thinking that Glasgow is incredibly near. That I could probably walk there.

TAKE THAT YOU NEUROTIC SON OF A BITCH PSYCHE!

And as for the dreaded Tube, I found it within seconds, although I did walk straight past it at first thinking that it couldn’t possibly be a station because of all the shops inside: that the sign saying “Victoria Station” on the building was in actual fact lying and that it really was just a shopping centre. But I realised my mistake pretty quickly, went back and it was then that I was met with another confused Scottish person:

“‘scuse me? Do you know if this is the station? Jist disnae look like one wi all the shops!”

“That’s what I thought, but I think it is!”

“Alright, cheers pal.”

But then he proceeded to walk in the opposite direction so he either didn’t trust me or completely misunderstood me.

I went in though and sure enough, it was both the station and the underground. I found the line I was meant to be on, managed to use my Oyster card, and didn’t fall down the escalator. I was then confidently waiting for the tube, until it turned up and I started questioning whether or not it was actually the right one. I had one leg in and one leg out, barricading the doorway, before turning to a stranger and imploring them for answers. It was just my luck that this stranger was absolutely roaring drunk.

“Sorrrry. I’m so druuunk. I thiiink – hic – this is the right one.”

She then took the initiative to ask someone who was not roaring drunk and yes, it was the right one.

Then I got off and my halls were a mere ten minute walk away and even though I’m not allowed in them until two o’ clock, I was able to leave my suitcase there – there was someone there at eight o’ clock on a Sunday morning! Then I found a nice little cafe down the road (OK YOU GOT ME IT’S STARBUCKS. I promise I’ll be more adventurous when I’ve settled in a bit and do not smell of bus.) and so here I am, drinking a big cup of tea and about to read my play for the third time just to make sure that I really know what it’s about.

I’ll let you know how tomorrow at the school goes.

If I don’t have another panic attack and die that it is.

P.s. It is absolutely pissing it down. I thought the weather in England was meant to be better than in Scotland? I did not sign up (or pack) for this.