Roll credits

This blog is taking a hiatus, since I’m not in New York anymore (much to my dismay) and so I feel that I should round off with a few acknowledgements. Quite a few.

Of course, first huge thank you goes to Lynne and Rupert for taking a chance on me, and getting me to my dream city. Rupert particular thanks for dealing with the volcano fandango and making sure we all got home safely – not that I would’ve minded being left behind! Lynne particularly for being my main source of adult company! And most importantly for sharing with me the wonderful world of Broadway, getting me show tickets, introducing me to everyone, bringing me to rehearsals and letting me watch auditions and answering my endless questions about critics and previews. I learned a lot and I had such a blast and loved loved LOVED getting to be a part of the La Cage experience – I may have played a very small part but I’m always going to be able to look back and say ‘Ah yes, the 11-times Tony nominated 2010 revival of La Cage aux Folles? I helped’, and that’s really amazing. HUUUGE thank yous for all that. Also of course for looking after me so well with regards to food and a roof over my head, including multiple beds.

Second, the other people instrumental in bringing me NYC – the mad and magical D’Cruzes, Chloe and Marcos. It’s because of them that I got this opportunity and I’ll never be able to thank them enough. Am also grateful to them for having unknowingly prepared me for some of the madder aspects of my trip – having spent a year in the awesome creative whirlwind that is Bell/D’Cruze land I felt primed and ready for anything the artistes of New York had to chuck at me.

Taire deserves a mention in this bit too cos I think if she hadn’t given me the push I needed to tell everyone I was taking off in February C&M would never have thought of me when they spoke to Lynne about needing someone to go to New York in February...I think it all started with a long late night conversation on Jo and Richard’s sofa with this most fab Spanish girl, so gracias forever and mucho amor to MTMC/my psychic partner.

Next, lovely Marisa Ferrarin and her husband Paul. Marisa made me feel instantly welcome by bringing me to her beautiful restaurant and introducing me to EVERYBODY. I got to see a bit of New York I’d never get to by my own means, and I made some lovely friends and acquaintances. Also, I ate some insanely lovely food. Marisa and Paul, the true essence of good neighbours. She gave us her internet.

Tony Cortes for listening to me whine about all kinds of things and buying me my first ever Dunkin’ Donuts, and for explaining to me about Gray’s Papaya which I still don’t quite understand. Also for a fantastic MovieTuesday watching the supreme Kick Ass fo’ freee.

The motley crew of regulars and cameos who made my days a little easier, a little brighter and a little more New York. These include:

The Malibu Diner staff

The City Treehouse staff especially Trevor who was equally good at entertaining me as he was the kids

The Hilton Theatre doorman

The Longacre Theatre doormen

The La Cage cast crew and creatives who always said friendly helloes to me, and the Cagelles who gave me class recommendations for BDC and Steps

The cast of Hair who always made me smile when I occasionally saw them running in and out for entrances, and who eventually gave me one of my most joyous experiences ever

STANLEY, the best superintendent ever, for always appearing right when I needed him most (i.e. when I was standing at the bottom of 5 flights of stairs with a buggy, a child, my bag, her bag and a bag of household essentials from the pharmacy about to give up hope) and giving us so many lifts in the elevator, and understanding how very necessary those lifts were! And for always being smiley and cheery.

The amazing BDC teachers I did classes with: Andrea Brown, Jason Marquette (both changed my life slightly) Ephrat Asherie, Spex, Ginger Cox and Tracy Stanfield (changed my life through sheer fear) Dolores.

The proprietor and artist at Jokers on Bleecker St, for designing my tattoo and being really cool and chatty. And somewhat attractive.

Travis the dog

Griffy the dog

Chris

Patrick

Michelle

Everyone who ever helped or offered to help me with the buggy, especially on the subway when it was jam-packed and I didn’t know how I was ever going to get through the throngs of people to get off the train. Also the amazing guy who saw me struggling with buggy and Iris, as usual, when I was trying to get through the turnstile but me Metrocard wasn’t working, so he actually swiped his own card in the thing for me so we could get through. A perfect stranger spent $2.25 to make my day a little easier. Beautiful.

The security guard who found my bag when I lost it at the Natural History Museum.

Dance teacher Faith and Jodi the Yogi

Art Farm bunnies!

Ok that’s the end of that long list, I think. Hope I haven’t left anyone out.

Last big thankyous go to my heroes and heroines, who helped get me through in my darkest hours without even knowing it.

Ellie – what would I do without this girl, her support has never faltered, she is so good at keeping in touch that she actually says ‘hope you’re ok haven’t heard from you in a while’. She will not let me get out of touch, and quite right too. She has listened to the ranting and raving via the miracle of Facebook messaging for years now and she did it in New York too, helping me to stay in touch with the real World whilst being always excited and happy for me and the fun stuff I got to do. She is proof that friends halve your sorrows and double your joys.

Jess – she may have slightly been my hair inspiration. Not necessarily for the colour, but for doing it in the first place, as she’s been doing the hair rainbow (sometimes literally) for ages and is totally fierce and fearless about it. Also for my fab pocket guide to NY which came in v. handy on numerous occasions! A beacon/hero of originality, this girl reminded me when I was feeling bad to just do my thing and not give a crap. Which is why I came home tattooed and with pink hair and some mental additions to my wardrobe. :D

Rachel – everyone needs a Rachel, to remind them that in some parts of the World, everything is not a cause for drama and crisis! Although moments of negativity were v. rare in my whole trip, I had a couple and in the worst one I turned to the people I’m mentioning now, Rach included, and she came through with her usual gift for putting things in perspective, making me laugh at it a little bit and generally not beating around the bush.

Vanessa, Victoria, Emily, all the lovely lovely gals at Vanessa Golborn School of Dance – thanks for keeping me involved and included even though I was an ocean away. And for being the best at keeping track of my madness via Facebook. And also, obviously, for having taught me so well for so many years that I could deal with everything BDC had to throw at me, even in the very toughest classes. And for just generally everyone’s fabness. And my cake and cards and hippo and everything (Lauren, Molly, kids:D)

Daddy – for keeping it real by always seeing the funny side, and for joining me briefly in the same continent! Woohoo! And for imparting unto me possibly the most useful childcare skill I have – when washing child’s hair, get them to tilt their head back and look at the ceiling. If you can convince them to do this, they will trust you forevermore with washing their hair as no shampoo or water will ever get in their eyes. This is what I remember my dad imploring me to do as a small child – I think I was too dim to take his advice but I have proved on Iris that it works. For keeping me up-to-date with the goings on of the bonkersness that is the TLOGs, for always being my no.1 fan and keeping my feet on the ground while not laughing at my lofty dreams. Also for being a countryside through and through – I love NYC but I’m eternally grateful that I was raised in Hampshire villages.

Maman – For being such a great email correspondent, and being on standby to deal with any crisis that might arise in my life back home (phone bills, uniform payments etc). For instilling in me over the years a hundred and one practical life skills that I never even knew I had til I needed them – from how to open stiff jars to how to cater for the family who are always in and out at different times (Bolognese sauce. Freezer. The end) How to deal with a million different children’s problems, how to make liquid soap last longer, how to wash shoes, how to find my way, how to get money off an item of clothing, how to make an emergency butterfly costume. I’m almost disappointed I didn’t have an audience of people watching me in New York cos I think many would’ve been astonished at how practical and resourceful I can really be in times of need, and I owe it all to the wisdom of my mum, who would win Gold if they had an Olympic event for being practical and fixing stuff. And now, I’d win silver.

Both my parents, joint, and Ben and my grandparents aunts uncles and cousins – for giving me such a fantastic childhood from which I have learned such a lot and all being certifiably insane cos it prepared me for pretty much anything. Faireys (and Ravens Ashmans and Lanes) rock the house.

My wonderful cousin Em who is another hero – for keeping me entertained with her stories from Down Under, and for being a cracking example of having courage in what YOU want to do for yourself not everyone else.

The Iridescent Miss Iris – for being my near-constant companion, for busting many a move with me when we got bored of colouring, for helping me record some hilarious covers of Black Eyed Peas and JLS (which no one will ever see), for letting me improve my hairstyling skills using you as a model, for not minding when I burst into song while walking you home from Treehouse, for making me laugh hysterically with some of your inspirational quotes (‘boys are silly to drink’) for giving me an excuse to go to FAO Schwarz and kid’s yoga and watch Disney Channel, for learning and utilising my favourite line ‘let’s rock and roll’ (I’m flattered) every time we walk out the door, for introducing me to the genius that is Peppa Pig/Charlie and Lola and for inventing a game at City Treehouse that requires me to lie down in a dark quiet cave with comfy fake grass inside. Best Game Ever. Tessa and Iris, the Dream Team.

Finally, to everyone who has kept in touch, given me useful advice/travel items, gave me snippets of life through good old Facebook, put up me with going on and on about Hair/Eddie Redmayne/Doug Hodge/Bleecker St/pancakes, wished me well, wished me home and READ THIS BLOG!, I extend my heartfelt gratitude and love, I hope you will be back for Faireytale Part II: Another bite at the Apple.

I leave you with my final gems of wisdom, beauty, truth and love. And hilarity.

There is only one word for these two. And that word is LOL rofl.

A tile on the 9/11 Remembrance fence - very sobering to stand and read

them all.

The Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Centre - beautiful.

Beautiful day for leaving your dream city.

I've been the NY Fairey

Until next time

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Losing my religion

Wow.

So.

Since I last blogged, my situation has drastically changed. Number 1, I have left behind the perilous and rocky landscape that has been my teenage years - I am 20. Great. Number 2...it's kind of hard to actually write it down, since that would make it true. I got unceremoniously dragged from New York, on a last-minute 8am flight from JFK on the morning of Saturday April 24th. Which meant that a fair portin of my 20th Birthday was spent packing.

Though we did manage to get in a delightful final meal at Marissa's (Duane Park) with what was probably THE BEST food I've ever eaten, I was still pretty cut up about losing two things that are very important to me in one fell swoop - my 20th and my City.

Lynne and Rupert had a very, very good reason for grabbing the last-minute flight when they were offered it so of course I understand why it happened. I just wish I could've stayed a couple more days to say my goodbyes. I knew all along that whenever the time came for us to leave I would never be ready. But at least I was prepared to not be ready. I wasn't ready for this, at all.

It felt a bit like being told there was a hitman coming to find us and we had to go into hiding. Throwing things into suitcases, giving away our food to the dancers next door, leaving all the big toys behind for some other kids to find and enjoy, trying to clean the worst of the mess in the kitchen and bathroom. And then leaving the building in pitch black at half past four in the morning, hardly any traffic on our perpetually busy corner of 7th Av and piling into a big gleaming SUV to be sped through the weirdly empty streets, across 6th, Broadway, Madison, Park, Lexington, all the way over to FDR. Past so many of my havens and familiar sights. Madison Square Park, dark and deserted, and then the glimpse of the illuminated Manhattan skyline, through a corner of window not taken up by suitcases as we drove through Queens. It all happened so suddenly I barely had time to catch my breath - didn't have time to register in my brain that we were leaving. Everything went smoothly through JFK, we sat down for a decent breakfast (coffee, almond croissant, orange juice), we looked at the lovely blue seeping through the dawn sky. What a beautiful day, isn't it exciting to be going home? We can sleep on the plane, everything is great.

Except that it wasn't great, because I was leaving, and this hit me like a mallet in the face when I was in my cushy seat at the front of our section of the plane, next to a window, lots of legroom and a very quiet seat neighbour. Lalala isn't it great. It was, til we started to taxi down the runway and I swear I could see the Empire State Building reaching high above the landscape between us and NYC. That was about when I reached my limit, and I'm not ashamed to say that the floodgates opened. I would like to give a grateful mention to the very kind air hostess who discreetly brought me a handful of tissues and asked if I was ok, all the while probably thinking that I was a crazy person. It's actually really sad for me to write this now, so I'm going to hand over to my faithful companion the LBD, one of the things that got me through the tough times.

Maybe its kind of good that i didn't get the chance to say my goodbyes. To do a final lap of honour round all my favourite haunts, to make sure they are imprinted on my memory to last me through the next 6 months. I wanted to eat my farewell breakfast in the Malibu diner. They're gonna wonder what happened to the weird silent girl with the pink hair. I wanted to watch the sun go down in the West over the Hudson. I wanted to go through Times Square and instead of passing through not seeing (because it has become so familiar to me in the past few weeks) I was going to look up at the lights and reel at the sheer surging energy of it all whirling around me just like I did the first time I ever saw it.
I built relationships here. Some stronger than others. But in 2 months I've made acquaintance with people from every walk of life. And not just people - I think Bleecker St will miss me. I think Washington Square, Strawberry Fields and a lot of 23rd St will miss me.

What I'm trying to say is that having to leave like this, suddenly, like someone on the run from the law, is a good thing. Cos I'm fairly sure that if I tried to say my farewells I wouldn't be able to tear myself away. And if i did it would bloody hurt. So I will say goodbye from the strange limbo that is the aeroplane - I am neither here nor there so letting go of there is not so bad.

Goodbye, New York City. Thank you for all that you've given me. Noone can ever know. I have so much love for this crazy, beautiful place, probably because it welcomed me easily with open arms and loved me right back.
I will miss you so much:
2am pancakes, classes at BDC, freshly squeezed orange juice, music everywhere, Rickys, Duane Park and its party people, cheesecake, the subway especially the indomitable 1 train, the East River, the West river, bridges, John Lennon memorial and the Mayor of Strawberry Field, the Empire State Building, beautful Greenwich Village apartment buildings, Greenwich Ave, Bleecker, Canal, Mercer, Lafayette, St Marks Place and Bowery. Milkshakes, Americans, guitarists, the NYPD and NYFD, chance encounters, bookbook, movies, Friday nights on my fire escape watching Chelsea come out to play, iCarly, this blog, my NYdentity, the Longacre Theatre green room, walking past Hair every week, vintage, stylish men, City dogs, Union Square steps, the NYU buildings round Washington Square, the Boathouse in Central Park, the outside of the Met, the Times Square crazy homeless man with the beer signs, menupages restauraunt search and Seamlessweb online ordering, wide pavements, wide Avenues, pop tarts from delis, chocolate Nesquik, ordering Chinese or ribs or cake at 10pm, the smell of the Subway next door everywhere in our building, Stanley the Super, Marisa Paul and Griffy upstairs, BRGR around the corner, the incredibly strong smell of pot coming from the 4th floor at the weekends, singing loudly in the street and noone caring, the New York public library on 42nd st, the moon but no stars, reading, men in heels, deep graffiti, paintbox buildings, Yellow Rat Basterd, Cafe Angelique, Cafe Champignon, Toasties, Malibu, World Coffee, John's Pizza, Rosa's Pizza, Aunt Butchie's Cupcakes, Fresh and Co. Helpful strangers. The Calvin Klein ad I passed every Monday, Thursday and Friday. Lincoln Centre fountain. Alice in Wonderland, Shakespeare Garden, buskers on the train, buskers in the park, uptown Lexington, the Lower East Side, South Ferry terminal, $10 psychics, $6 manicures and $3 cherry pie, hearts painted on sidewalks, Father Demo Square, Hamlets, gherkins and coleslaw with everything, deli sandwiches, buffalo chicken, the shop windows of 5th Avenue, night time exploring, walking, cheap cabs, sunny days, my neighbourhood, Clearview Cinema, good coffee no matter where you look, rappers freestyling basing their lyrics on people walking past, expecting the unexpected. Being a small part of history.

This was about where I caught sight of the view from the window and couldn't write anymore.

Bye, Big Apple. Be seeing you soon.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

NYce

Latest news: On Monday we were here til May 1st (YAY TWO EXTRA WEEKS) then by Wednesday it was April 28th (bugger, lost 3 days). Although I will be dead happy to go home and stuff I wasn't exactly devastated to learn that we couldn't fly home at the appointed time on the Tuesday just gone. I am possibly the only one who feels this way though.

Highlights of the past few days have been:

In the Heights
Kick Ass
Starstruck Vintage
25th St Flea Market
Breakfast


So, let's start at the very beginningaverygoodplacetostaaaart

Even though those were not written in order so maybe it isn't the beginning but here we go.

In the Heights is a musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda. It's won a bunch of awards and it currently stars Corbin Bleu who was in the ubiqitous High School Musical.

In the Heights tells the universal story of a vibrant community in Manhattan's Washington Heights – a place where the coffee from the corner bodega is light and sweet, the windows are always open, and the breeze carries the rhythm of three generations of music. It's a community on the brink of change, full of hopes, dreams and pressures, where the biggest struggles can be deciding which traditions you take with you, and which ones you leave behind.

So that's the basic premise - story is a lot about showcasing the heavily Latin culture of Washington Heights through music, a bit (but not as much as I expected) of dance, ideologies and accents. Oh and clothes. Although I was hoping for more dance I really enjoyed it. The acting was all really good, especially Blanca Camacho who played Abuela Claudia and Andrea Burns who played Daniela the very Latina gossiping hair salon owner. The whole culture is woven in really well, maybe it's good that there are no big dance numbers - they'd throw in loads of salsa, some commercial hiphop and maybe some other latin or Spanish styles - maybe some rhumba, flamenco even. But it would be like stamping a big label on the whole shebang saying 'THIS IS A MUSICAL ABOUT INNER CITY LATIN PEOPLE, THEY CAN ONLY DO THIS' Instead, scenes are linked by brief musical interludes that dip in and out of South America. Members of the ensemble stroll across the stage talking on phones or interacting with each other then suddenly break into a few steps as they go. This method effectively prevents the characters and story from being overpowered by their heritage while still allowing it to influence and inform the events that play out during the show's course.

Hmm, haven't written a night-before-its-due-in-somehow-got-an-A English essay in a long time but...that last sentence is a fair demonstration of how I did it!

Anyway Corbin Bleu was very good, I've only ever seen him playing an afroed and cocky teenage boy who dances very well. Which is essentially what he was in real life at the time. So I wasn't expecting miracles, but I really liked him. He made a thoroughly likeable Usnavi. That's why I liked him.

Kick Ass - GO SEE THIS MOVIE. Ok it stars Aaron Johnson who is clearly a fool and a twit cos he is having a baby with 40-something artist Sam Taylor Wood who he met when she directed him in Nowhere Boy the Lennon biopic. Which only came out a few months ago. Good going Aaron, you're a really smart 19 yr old guy, have fun THROWING AWAY YOUR YOUTH. Sorry if anyone finds that overly judgemental and yes its the noughties but really. Such a waste. He's scrummy.

In spite of his obvious mentalness he is really, really good in this film. It's a great concept and has tons of air-punching 'yesss!' and finger-splaying 'noooo waaaay!' moments, and the Chloe Moretz who played Hit Girl/Mindy is my new idol, she rocks. Go watch.

Starstruck Vintage - my new favourite haven. Don't remember if I've previously mentioned this but vintage shopping in New York is haaaard. Luckily I am passionately dedicated to doing it so I do not mind the Googling and the ensuing traipse around the East and West Villages respectively looking for internet-recommended spots that have, unbeknownst to me, shut down.

But then I found Starstruck on Greenwich Ave and fell instantly and irrevocably. Staff are one very helpful old bloke who sings along to all the oldies hits on the radio and one shabbily cool woman who gave me the hair compliment (I've never been complimented so much in my life, if I'd known pink hair would do this I would've done it years ago). They have a great selection of jeans from the $25s for nicely battered stonewash denim from a decent brand like Levis or Lee to the $175s for the real golden oldies, flowerpower bellbottoms made from that weird stretchy denimy fabric with rainbow striped panels at the bottom to made the flare even more voluminour. Bellbottoms are my new clothing obsession. As I can't afford the beauties from Starstruck I will be sewing floral panels into the first jeans I lay my hands on when I get home. There's a big reason for my fixation which I will detail soon. Anyway I left Starstruck with an item I've had my heart set on finding for weeks now - a wine-coloured corduroy jacket, slightly on the big side, striking buttons. Dunno why I wanted one. Just felt that it would somehow complete me a little more. It does so I wasn't being completely irrational. And I luuurve it.

All this talk of shopping puts me in mind of that time I went to the flea market on 25th st (once again, our neighbourhood strikes gold) and bought two fantastic vintage dresses at the bargain price ooooof $mumblemumble. ok so I won't actually be announcing the price on here. There are parents reading y'know. But I will say I got money knocked off, one because of my excellent haggling skills and careful looking over of the garment (so parents can rest easy, I remembered to check it over for damage first. On discovering damage I said I'd buy it anyway for less money. So I'm getting there!) and the other because the lady was just very nice, I spose. Anyway I'm super glad I bought them both. Now if someone could kindly get married this summer that'd be great - I need another summer wedding to wear one of these dresses to. Maybe my own wedding...yep, I think I'd quite happily get married in the second one. It is wonderfulwonderful.

AND I somewhat made up for my sliiight flamboyancy with the cash by going to the thrift store across the street and purchasing a beautiful 100% cotton Indian tunic dress thing and a pair of jeans by Paper Denim Cloth. And yes, by going to buy more things I was in fact getting back some of the money I spent in the market. It was a thrift store. That's just how it works.

Breakfast - ah, breakfast. An ode to breakfast is due I think, will start on something tomorrow. Can't wait to start making everyone at home eat giant breakfasts with pancakes and bagels and jam and potatoes and fruit and eggs and chocolate chips and strawberry milkshakes, they're so awesome I can't even say. If everyone had an hour to eat a really really delicious breakfast every day and work started an hour later instead, I'm sure offices would become twice as productive.

Right, I'm all a bit confused about where I am with pictures. Trying to get them from camera to computer with internet to laptop via memory stick is proving a tad inefficient.

For now, enjoy this sign which I in my immaturity and uncouthness (still only 19 y'know. Well, New York time anyway) found hilarious.

There is NO WAY that this was not done on purpose. Surely noone is that naive. Snort.

And here's the Dakota where Lennon lived and died too soon, and where Yoko Ono still owns apartments.

I'm pretty sure its the room on the left with the white curtain that was John's piano room.

And here are some pretty nice upside down trees. Cos I was upside down when I took the pictures.

And now I have 4 New York Minutes of being a teenager so I am going to bed with my hot Nesquik and my Norse Myths and seeing out my teens in styyyyyle! Much love to my peoplesxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

How do you get three girls sharing a room to go to sleep?

It's not a riddle. I'm really asking. Begging, actually. It isn't possible! Trying to remember all the techniques parents used on me and my homegirls when I was little but nothing springs to mind...maybe the answer is 'give up before you start crying'.

Done.

So, how 'bout that volcano huh?

The last time Eyjafjallajökull erupted, it continued belching the Earth's unsettled insides for 14 months, from December 1821 to January 1823.

Scientists do not expect Eyjafjallajökull to keep northern Europe's airports closed for 14 months, but they suggest that Eyjafjallajökull's impact on world travel might not end with the end of this current eruption.

Moreover, Iceland's "Angry Sister" hasn't even awoken yet. The three times in recorded history when Eyjafjallajökull has erupted, its neighbor, the much larger Katla, has followed suit.

Data do not yet suggest that a Katla eruption is imminent. Yet, in some respects, it is the far greater concern, both in Iceland and beyond.

Katla: the sleeping sister

Katla has erupted 16 times since 930, in 1755 exploding so violently that its ash settled on parts of Scotland. In 1918, Katla tore chunks of ice the size of houses from the Myrdalsjökull glacier atop it, sending them careening down its slopes and into the Atlantic on floods of melted glacier water.

While Eyjafjallavökull is virtually anonymous in Icelandic lore, Katla is one of the "Angry Sisters" along its even-more active twin, Hekla.

Oh hellfire. So, Eyjafjallavökull (anyone believe that's the real name? Maybe this is all a big hoax to make English people say funny words) erupts, then Katla looks over, goes 'call that an eruption? EAT THIS, impossibly-complex-name!' and blasts off showering brimstone and treacle umpteen times further out than it is already. At the moment its looking something like this.

In 1973, an eruption near the nation's primary fishing port split the island of Heimaey in two and required its entire population to be evacuated to the Icelandic mainland by fishing boat.

On 1783, one-quarter of Iceland's population was killed when Laki erupted – an eruption so massive that it changed global weather patterns, bringing record snow to New Jersey and drought to Egypt.

And in the 1755 Katla eruption, the volume of floodwaters from the Myrdalsjökull glacier were estimated to be equal to or greater than the discharge of water from the Amazon, Nile, and Mississippi Rivers combined.

Ok folks, there it is. There are people suffering in airports. There are people struggling to find accommodation, running out of money, needing to get home for work commitments. But unless you have a really serious problem (like one man I heard about who is stuck somewhere and running out of insulin and can't get hold of any - THAT'S a real reason to complain about a flight, Fates be with him) just take a second to pity the poor people of Iceland who have had to flee their homes. They have main roads that are totally obliterated by floods triggered by the volcano.

This guy is searching for his cattle, lost in the ash clouds. That could be his livelihood, gone. Compared to those people and those cattle, we are lucky. And I'm well aware that compared to many who are stuck in airports or on foreign soil, I am extremely lucky - at least I speak the language, I'm with people I know and I have somewhere to live. But seriously - poor Iceland. Big natural disaster, little country.

***

Yes, turns out I will not be returning on Tuesday. Thank goodness - I'd've needed to start packing last week. I realise that that was not a recognized contraction. Stream of consciousness writing = goodbye grammar rules. I am remaining in New York, possibly until Friday. If this is the case then I will be celebrating (I hope!) my 20th Birthday in NYC. I'm pretty cool with that. Just as long as they don't, in an act of mistaken kindness, schedule my flight for the 23rd its FINE! I am NOT spending my 20th anniversary of being alive sitting in a metal tube with hundreds of strangers. 20. Twenty. Twenty. 20. 20. 20. 20. Oh Jesus, I thought that repeating it would make it lose its meaning and thus render it less scary. Nope. TWENTY does not go away. Oh my God I had not even thought about it. Whew, sudden meltdown occurring. Distraction technique -

Tonight is the official opening night of La Cage Aux Folles. Here's how it goes on Broadway - they do the previews, when the show is open for a paying audience but no critics. Then come the critics, mostly all on the same night I think. Then comes the opening - this is the one with the celebrities, the photographers, the pink carpet and most importantly the big giant afterparty.

I'm keeping track of things on Twitter, pictures are being posted regularly. No sighting yet though of Lynne in her beautiful Alice Temperley, Christian Louboutin and vintage jewellery (rented from my old unobtainable friend, New York Vintage) but I'm refreshing the page religiously.

But whatever, let the parents party - WE (that's myself, Iris and her two cousins Molly and Hattie) do not need showbiz glam. We've got popcorn, Alice in Wonderland (Disney not Burton) and a bit later on when the girls are sleeping soundly, all being well, I will have a big foil tray of BBQ chicken and ribs.

***

Finished my ribs. I ordered from Dallas BBQ specially, ate my cornbread while thinking of my dear Dad hanging out in Texas for an extra week. It's nice to have family on the same side of the Atlantic at least - got an uncle aunt and two cousins in Arizona too. Speaking of family, today I wish my Grandpa a BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY and lots of loveXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Also Happy Birthday Jesse 'Speciaaaaaaaaaaaal', my fellow Aprilian who is 4 days older than me. It's exciting when your mates' Birthdays are really near your own. Dunno why but it is, admit it. Have a good one NIPPER.

Right here's some LBD mutterings.

In New York, I am:

• The go-to girl for directions. Something about me inspires people to ask me to point their way. This is a big first for me - sense of direction is not something I am known for. Must be the manner in which I stride confidently around, looking like I know where I'm going. This is easily achievable when, like me, you have not planned anywhere to end up. With no destination in mind it is very difficult to be lost.
• A recognised regular at the Malibu diner - they now greet me with a 'how are you today?' as in opposed to how was I yesterday when they saw me last.
• A face at Duane Park http://duaneparkcafe.com/ - a face with connections nonetheless, who needs neither ID nor funds to drink the bar dry...if I so chose. Haven't. Yet.
• A friend of City Treehouse. I think they welcome and pity me in equal measures.
• Working hard - not the employment thing. The other thing. The exploration. It is hard work to enjoy New York, I tell you. I don't know how people can take holidays here for a week, two weeks. I can't fit even half of it into seven. I think the way I have experienced this...experience so far can be summed up with Luke 11.9 - Seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. Well I've sought until my knees crack and I pummel on every door I pass, and tell you what - Luke was right and its almost like he knew NYC was going to happen and he made up that reference especially for it.
  

I think consonants relax as they go West...go from India to the USA saying the word 'cheetah' in the different accents and see if you get where I'm coming from.

Well. There's three girls asleep and there's about to be one more. I'm cream crackered. And I know exactly why but I'm not going to go into that just now. There is much to review including Hair, In the Heights, J&R Music World, 25th st flea market, Alice's Teacup and more.

Happy daysxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Icons

Florence and the Machine played at Le Poisson Rouge on Bleecker St on the 8th - and I only just found out! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
I'm sorry Florence I still love you. This won't happen again. I'm trailing yo' every move.


On the plus side, here's my new favourite website -

http://www.latfh.com/

'Look at this fucking hipster' - ahhh, balm to my soul. Those oversized glasses make me die a little inside. I will comment no more because I guarantee someone will read this and decide I'm a total hypocrite and maybe I am but I would just like to say - people who were probably born wearing American Apparel shiny leggings and have neon coloured plastic toy replicas of everything imaginable and wear those painfully lame forehead band thingies...suck. There is a line, and it is a sad fact of life that some people cross it.

So...getting a backlog of pictures and LBD pages.


Here's the other side of the City, the Upper East Side, taken from Carl Schulz park.

Here the river obsession ends, I swear. On the other side you can see Queens and Roosevelt Island.

So, on a whole 'nother day, this happened:
There has been a brief hiatus in my explorations while I lived life on the edges of the City (sunny days at Riverside) - but now I'm back in my New York dreamland. Travelled to the edge for a final farewell visit, then plunged back into the middle of things. After me and Iris went to Hippo Park , Lynne was kind enough (and perceptive enough to understand the desires of a 19yr old Vogue addict) to let me go with her to the Alice Temperley store in Soho, where she would be trying on her La Cage opening night dress. Wow oh wow.....it honestly physically hurt me to be in the presence of so many beautiful, oh-so-divinely beautiful clothes and not be able to have them. I promptly fell in love with the entire new S/S line and mentally wore it all over NYC; to the cinema, to the park and at home to the pub. Sadly it will never be...unless I suspend my principles and find a wealthy chap who will buy me the whole collection - for Temperley, its an idea that I am seriously entertaining. Go look on the website, you'll understand. Lynne's dress is a gorgeous confection of flowy black silk with a bouquet of gathered fabric cascading from the left shoulder - it is wonderful, and I can't wait to see her on opening night with the shoes (not sure I should join her on that shopping trip, it may sink me into an abyss of yearning despair) and earrings et al cos she's going to look AMAZING, which she deserves to cos she will be a hit, no doubt. So, once finished with being materialistic and fashionistic I went swinging down Greene St, basking in the sun and the extreme chicness of the Village. Was so wrapped up in NYDW (NY Dreamworld) I could forget about the peanut butter stains on my dress, the tarmac marks on my legs from kneeling on the playground floor and all the other unsightly flaws to my appearance - unwelcome in the Village you understand. Spent a good 40 mins in bookbook, a great Bleecker St bookshop with lots of things on sale and came away, after much deliberation, with 4 cracking books for $20. Can't wait to read them on the Staten Island ferry - today's planned destination.

But first I will sit in my wicker chair outside a gelato shop (yes gelato is actually just ice cream...just rollin' with the lingo) opposite Father Demo Square, being a trendy intellectual with my notebook, my Norse Myths and my huge red Tibetan canvas bag. Eating my tiramisu ice cream with whipped cream on top (yyyyyyup!) and watching the beautiful people go by.

So, after that happened, this happened -


This is the actual Brooklyn Bridge, not the Williamsburg one. Wasn't as great a day for weather but still some lovely views to be had - you can see the S of L, on which more later, from the Brooklyn Bridge. Who knew?

And here we have the Southernmost tip of Manhattan - Tribeca, Wall St, financial district n all that. The Skyline.

What's that tiny pinnacle in the distance you say? Well. After this happened, this happened...........

.......And I took a little trip across the bay. Because I had seen How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and the bit where they are on the Staten Island Ferry is really nice. Also, it is free, I like the water, and it gets you a nice view oooof........

From sea to shining sea, like Lady Liberty.....yup, that is the aforementioned S of L. The weird angle was necessary due to the many hands with cameras and bits of ferry that got in the way when I tried to do it straight. Here's a few more in a similar vein. It's a lovely lovely view in real life. I've decided I really, really like the Statue of Liberty - when I put my finger on why I'll let you know.

See? Bits of ferry invading my photos.

Anywho, these are all taken from the front of the ferry. Do an about turn, walk the entire length and go out of the back doors and you will be rewarded with this.....I am really enjoying using the ellipsis instead of finishing my sentences it heightens the suspense so very well...ooh I wonder what's coming next..........

Well, it is Manhattan being attacked by what look like giant birds.

Nah, its that most-famed of skylines. And it is getting further away. The ferry takes about 25 minutes to get from the South terminal to Staten Island. I find it entirely bonkers that Staten Island, which is so close to New Jersey all along its west coast it is practically attached, is part of New York City. When it is a 25 minute journey.

http://maps.google.com/maps?q=staten%20island&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wl

Look how far away it is from Manhattan! Whose idea was that?????


When the ferry docked it was almost dark and the Island was quiet. I had no knowledge of the area or any particular agenda in mind, so I just wandered, enjoying the peace and the seasidey-town only scarier feel of the place. It was a little like a shrunk-down, toy village version of Manhattan itself. The same kinds of buildings only much, much less densely packed, and smaller. Endearingly so in some cases. I think it must be a nice place to live - I could see a few people still in offices working but I thought 'well when they are finished they can go home to their nice suburban house and their family' whereas in the main hub of NYC people who work in offices either never leave their offices or when they do it is to go for dinner, go for drinks or go home to an apartment full of people having dinner and drinks. It was quite nice to know that life pauses, in some parts of New York. Maybe that's why they hung on to Staten Island, so they wouldn't lose all sense of average reality.

So after doing nothing and going nowhere for a while (also a novelty I enjoyed) I wheeled round and headed back to the ferry terminal. Thoroughly enjoyed the return journey in spite of the freeeeezing winds gushing through the mysteriously wide open windows. This became less mysterious when I went out on deck for a photo opp - the wind out there was mad, I could barely push the door open and when I got out there I could neither hold my camera still nor stand the temperature so I scarpered back in and found a post close enough to be able to see everything outside but not so close that I got chills.
I was lucky enough to see the Statue with her torch aflame - sadly there is little evidence of this as I did manage a few blurry pictures and some less blurry videos but the wind in said videos is insanely annoying, so I will spare others. Instead here's a nice quiet video of the ferry coming into dock, and the lit up skyline approaching. (Ditto with the skyline by the way - photos all came out too shaky. Ever tried taking pictures of a far off cluster of teeny lights whilst on a moving object being boshed about by gale force winds? Don't.)

And finally...I am 20 in exactly 7 days! Gooood grief!xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Well, I tried...

Put yourself in my (really skanky) shoes: it's sweltering hot outside, I'm completely parched, I'm sharing a box with La Cage veterans two of whom are under the age of 10 and I look like a boiled ham thanks to the extremely sweaty inter jazz class I just took.
But no matter - thanks to the beautiful, perfect performances given by the cast, I was able to transcend my surroundings and go to a place where nobody cares where you've come from or what you look like, as long as you're happy to come along for the ride.

The notorious and dangerous Cagelles: they defy expectation, convention and in many instances biology. The demands of this show are enormous - the dancers do not just dance. They cover every theatre discipline, they throw huge beachballs in choreographed sequence, they rollerskate, they hang from cage bars, they perform acro stunts, they lift and throw each other and themselves, they dance on very small circular tables in the first row of audience, they shamelessly flirt with theatregoers...and they do it all in high heels. And in case I didn't mention it before, they are all men playing women. Well, men playing men playing women technically. I have met each one of them backstage and I can confirm that they are all perfectly cast.

Know what? Anyone who is expecting an all-encompassing 'review' review that covers all aspects of the production and lots of imagery and stuff will be disappointed. I'm hoping to see it again, so I will be able to do a more comprehensive one. But for now I just have to get this out of my system: Doug Hodge.
His rendition of 'I am what I am' stirred in me something pretty powerful. The look on his face when he sang - no, not even he. She. Zaza, the name of the drag La Cage headliner that his character Albin plays (get your head round that if you will). It was like watching someone - a real someone, not someone being someone else - haul out their soul and wave it above their heads in defiance, and it was heartbreaking. The look on Zaza's face told me that she was giving herself to us the audience, every last molecule of her very confused and confusing being and she couldn't give any more if she tried, and all just for us that one audience. As if she would never again give that much because it was all for us and afterwards there would be nothing left. Phew.
Now stick with me, I'm not crazy - I feel humbled to have witnessed such a special moment in Zaza's life. Yes, her life - it was her life, or at the very least the lives of the thousands of Zazas that she represented - homo, hetero, metro, tranny, outcast, underdog, minority, nutcase, the shunned, dazed and confused everywhere. That's pretty amazing, to be able to stand on a stage and throw wide your arms and declare, on behalf of everyone who has suffered at the hands of those bitter evils Bigotry and Prejudice, 'I AM WHAT I AM'.

I am what I am
I am my own special creation.
So come take a look,
Give me the hook or the ovation.
It's my world that I want to take a little pride in,
My world, and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn,
'Til you can say, "Hey world, I am what I am."
I am what I am,
I don't want praise, I don't want pity.
I bang my own drum,
Some think it's noise, I think it's pretty.
And so what, if I love each feather and each spangle,
Why not try to see things from a diff'rent angle?
Your life is a sham 'til you can shout out loud
I am what I am!
I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses.
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces.
There's one life, and there's no return and no deposit;
One life, so it's time to open up your closet.
Life's not worth a damn 'til you can say,
"Hey world, I am what I am!

Gosh. Sorry, I honestly did mean to write a cracking full-blown review, but I have not recovered from the big smackintheeye that was Doug Hodge's performance. Mindblowing. Astounding. Sublime. Awe-inspiring. Superlatives, superlatives, superlatives. He made me switch from laughing to crying approximately every 5 minutes. I am lucky to have seen it. When I've finished reeling and put my brain back together I'll do a real write up. I want to beat the critics so I have til Thursday!
Glad to share my thoughts, I realise they may seem a little more like ravings much of the time. Much love, a little hope and lots of glitter (I can't help it, the songs in this show are sooo quotable)xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PS I'm watching an episode of Frasier right now and it is one where he meets celebrities and gets all starstruck and name-drops a lot. Haha I've spotted the irony, can you???

How did I not see this before?

Charlie and Lola is a childrens TV and book series created by Lauren Child. It is a charming series featuring the long-suffering older brother Charlie and his ever-so-slightly off her head little sister Lola. It is Iris' absolute favourite so I have watched and read a LOT of Charlie and Lola in the time that I've been here. There's something mighty familiar about it though and I've only just put my finger on why...

My dad's in Texas!!!!!!

....that is all. I am very excited about this, even though we are still in different timezones, but I can see Dallas and New York at the same time on the map without zooming out loads which you can't do with the UK. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Review..La Cage...must...write....

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWN.

Here's my review of La Cage Aux Folles.

This production is

Nope...not gonna happen. Sleep. *THUD*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tap thang

This is a combo I did in a class a week or so ago...it was originally done to 'Standing in the way of control' by Gossip, but strangely 'Heard it through the grapevine' by Mr Marvin Gaye seemed to match tempos, if not styles, fairly well. Sorry about dodgy sound quality - my camera is not built for close-up tap recording. This apartment floor however is a dream to tap on, and I bet whoever lives downstairs now hates me.
It's pretty straightforward but works your rhythm muscles (in my case badly).
You can tell that the beginning bit is not part of the routine, that is just me taprovising. Which is hard, which is why it is rubbish.

It's a bonanza, it's a mad extravaganza...

Where have you heard that phrase before?
Well, I let it slip a coupla blogs back. It's a line from the title song in La Cage Aux Folles, which I was lucky enough to be able to see yesterday for the first time.

Sadly in between starting this blog entry and the current time of writing, many events occurred that prevented me from writing the lengthy and voluble review of La Cage that I had planned. And now I need to go to bed. But fear not, most of said review is already jotted down in my LBD so tomorrow I can dash it all off super quick. It is going to be a very important blog entry, because it so fanfuckingtastic and also moved me quite a lot, and provided me with yet another idol.

Betcha can't wait, huh? Huh???

So for now...New York continues to pretend it is in fact the Sahara desert, it is insanely warm, I can wander round at night in shorts and remain a very pleasant temperature. You can almost feel the heat being trapped and reflected back by the atmosphere.

I grabbed a couple of things from American Eagle on the way home yesterday (cos I'm still short of hot-weather clothes having brought almost exclusively cold-weather ones with me...dammit) and got a discount cos the sales girl made a mistake on the till and they didn't make me pay the full amount cos it wasn't my fault. Yay!

I saw someone I know today. His name is Jack Pryor and he went to Perins and he was in the year above me. He didn't see me but I almost went headlong into his friend as they rounded the corner. I think I actually froze with surprise for a second, right in the middle of Times Square, cos I was so gobsmacked to see someone I know. Not just someone I know...someone who has come from the same 10 square miles as me in England. And then our paths managed to cross in this huuuge city. The odds of that are pretty darn slim if you ask me. So...hello Jack Pryor...welcome to New York, I guess!

Kelsey G said 'hello, how are you?' to me in the street yesterday as I was waiting outside te stage door for Lynne and Iris. Yes, it made me feel really cool and awesome. Yes, it would make you feel cool and awesome too. In my defence it wasn't just because he is y'know Dr Frasier Crane and like all famous n stufffff. He has only been introduced to me once, a little while ago, and hasn't seen me around much since, so the fact that he recognised me and was friendly enough to greet me and enquire after my well-being...well its always nice when someone unexpectedly does that, isn't it.

Aaaand I got to be the doorman for about 5 minutes at the Longacre Theatre. Doormen all over Broadway are fast becoming my allies and friends. It was a good time.

Riverside continues to dazzle and mesmerise me. Something else does now as well though - strawberry milkshakes, especially from BRGR. Mmmmmmmmmmm.

Proper La Cage rave tomorrow, its the review everyone has been waiting for...it could make or break this production!xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Did you ever?

B-Boys in Times Square Soul Brothers on the subway

This is Travis, the super cool dog who lives in Hamlet's Vintage on Bleecker St. He may just be the best dog in the city. He is super furry and super chilled and is my new best pal - true to form, I have made a better job of bonding with the canines than the homo sapiens. I do love this dog.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lay down my burden down by the riverside

Each time I discover a new bit of NYC I think to myself 'well this is the best bit. Here's where I belong'. Then I find a new bit and have to think it all over again.

Riverside Park is one such place. I have fallen head over heels for it. Well, really I have fallen for the pathway that runs along directly beside the Hudson. I get the sense that everyone along that path is working towards the common interest - peace, and freedom. The runners are there to get away from traffic lights and packed streets holding them up. Readers are there to dive into a book without being yanked out every 20 seconds by manic beeping from impatient cabs. Mothers are there to get a break from kids. Kids are there to nap. Old men sit on benches and gaze at the view and look like they are there just to be. And I am there to...well...be in awe of such an truly worthwhile piece of city.


Couple of pics of me...maybe it's kind of narcissistic to put pics of myself. Maybe it is more narcissistic to think that it's narcissistic to put pics of myself. Narcissistic has now lost its meaning due to repetition...pictures are go! Anyway its my blog I can be on it if I like.

As you can see it was another lovely, beautiful day.

That's New Jersey across the water. I realised the last time I was on Riverside that I can look at NJ and see America. Manhattan is an island. I come from a country which is also an island. Islands I can handle. But beyond New Jersey is this big, giant landmass that contains anything and everything. Commonly known as the USA. Boggles the mind a little bit, when you're small-town like me...not even small town. I'm sub-small-town. I'm teeny village. Near some small towns. Near a small city. Takes a bit of brain-stretching to expand my teeny and small thoughtscape around the concept of being so close to such a lot of country.

It's out theeeere!

Cherry walk

I walked and kept walking and ended up in Morningside Heights. 125th St, the beginnings of Harlem. Yet another new place I can say I've been. There was a small pier leading out further across the river which allowed for these lovely views.

Here's a bit of Harlem which didn't surprise me as it perhaps should have. I am no longer surprised by the diversity of the landscape, architecture and mise en scene of all the different bits of this place. I am now always prepared for change.