Long Tea Break

I don't to talk about, I have just neglected you, and I'm sorry blog. Someone I know, has inspired me to just write a hello, to this lovely blog. So that's what this is.

A hello.

From me to me.

x

perdu et retrouve

I love children's books. Immensely. I used to work in a bookstore, in the children's book section, it wasn't a very nice bookstore, but the picture books were. I think picture books are the most carefully crafted books there are. So much care and attention is paid to a good picture book. There are few words so each one should be earn it's place there. And so much space for the pictures, my favourite thing is a picture full of charm, and tiny details hidden in each corner.

I can still remember the books from my childhood, mrs pigs bulk buy, the jolly postman, bramley hedge... and i delight in finding new picture books that are full of that level of care and attention. Lost and Found by Oliver Jeffers is one of those. From start to finish it is funny, charming and delightful. It makes you want to read over immediately, and stare at each page endlessly. It is about a little boy and his lost penguin. And that should be enough to draw you in.

And as i was waiting for someone the other day, i found myself in the picture book section of the wondeful foyles. And i came across the above, the amazing, Reflections of a Solitary Hamster by Astrid Desbordes and Pauline Martin. I think it was in French originally, and it is about an arrogant hamster who is having a party, and his friends mole, snail, hedgehog and rabbit. He also writes a diary in which he lies about the brilliant things that are happening to him. It made me laugh out loud, and although the pictures aren't as heartwarming as Lost and Found, it has an odd charm of its own.

You can find more about Oliver Jeffers here and even buy prints of his beautiful work. I do also read books without pictures, big ones, with loads of words that gather admiring glances on the tube. But nothing quite delights me as disappearing into a picture book. Like falling down the rabbit hole, but coming out after 5 minutes without having to fight Helena Bonham Carter.

penguin hug from here.

i've been driving in my car

It's not a jaguar.

And i don't look like this.

Also it was my first ever driving lesson, so i sort of drove and sat at the side of roads, checking mirrors. It's taken me a very, very long time to book a driving lesson, and it will probably take me a very, very long time to learn but I'm so pleased i've started this road trip.

glamour from here via we heart it

shortcut

today i had my hair cut.

Nothing too special there?
Short.
Shorter than i have had it in ages.
And now my neck is really cold, for so long a mass of curls and matted clumps of mess have kept me warm and wrapped away from the world, that feeling this bare is an odd and exhilarating. Is this how men feel all the time? Their bare necks chilled for all to see?
As he cut it i felt sick, as if i was doing something mad. It's only hair i had to think. But we all know that's not true. It's more than that. My old hair made me look like a victorian child, which i liked, as if i wasn't quite walking in this world. My new hair is definitely part of now. Which is a good thing, and probably why i did it.

short here.

Double Life

Well, obviously it's been too long, so like old lovers let's not discuss that, it'll be awkward. The only reason i'm back, is after many months I am finally sat at an office desk again, answering phones and typing in data. It's been a long time since I answered to my real name, and found clothes that said nothing about me. A long time since i blended into the sea of black wool coats that swim towards the oyster barriers each morning. All of us grim faced, tired, and basically walking asleep towards hundreds of offices waiting for us to sit and stare at screens.

I mean it's not so bad. I could be melancholy about it, or I could accept it's what I have to do at the moment. Which is fine. It's just an adjustment. There is nothing stranger than, making tea for people and typing numbers into boxes for pie charts and then distantly remembering that it wasn't long ago you were whirling around on a stage in front of 100 people, pretending to be a dead woman, or dancing to the charleston while schoolchildren gasped. Not that these worlds are so far apart, i'm not working in a cotton factory now, but it's a strange existence, to do a job for just long enough to feel like this is how your life will now be.

I act under a different name, due to being too young when someone made me choose, so the two personalties of actor and 'normal' person always take me a while to switch from. And the nature of theatre being it's temporary-ness, so even if you stand on the streets and insist of screaming to people that you were once in a show and it was funny, like those girls wrapped up in their hemogenous coats, they would simply blink and ignore you. Not that you want attention of course. I guess it's like people knowing it's your birthday, you don't want to shout it out loud, but if no one says anything it's a bit sad, that's why there are badges, clearly stating 'it's my birthday'.

Perhaps I should get one saying 'i am actually an actor'.

Or maybe just 'look at me'.


Pics from Sabino via here.

bear

Just wanted to share the original and the best duffel coat wearer there has been.

paddington

I have a new coat. It's this but in black. I'm on tour at the moment, which can at times feel magical, wonderful, lonely, cold, hard and faraway from all that you love. So at these times, i am snuggling into this coat from topshop and hiding myself deep inside it. And so far it's worked.