Grease is the Word...or not as the case seems to be

So I'm a big musicals person. I am a mine of useless information about them and I love going to the theatre to see them. Obviously there are the favourite ones that you see over and over again, and the ones that steal 3 hours of your life never to be gained back.

This year I'm directing Grease for the school I work in and so myself, and the two other teachers involved took ourselves up to The Big Smoke to see the current West End production. We saw the 5.30pm performace last night and well...my middle schoolers are doing a better job after only 4 rehearsals.

Apparently the cast was new that week, but if that is the case, then I'd be dragging them all back for notes. With fluffed lines, wrong dance moves, mostly dreadful, mumbled american accents which meant that lines were unintelligible it was a disaster.

I've seen 7 or 8 professional productions of Grease, both in the West End and on Tour, but this is by far the worst. Dancers were unsure of the highly simplified routines and dear god, the 'Born To Handjive' number was half the speed it's meant to be! At £32.50 a ticket, I'm seriously debating asking for my money back, but on the plus side...My wee school production is looking better and better by the minute ;)

You love my lady lumps!

OK, I know it's been forever since I last posted, but I do have many good excuses. As you can imagine, going back to the new school term was pretty hectic, and after all the health issues I've had this last 18 months, I wasn't going to jeapardise my progress by doing too much. Halfterm term flew by in a heartbeat and the joys of the christmas production left me without a minute to call my own. Christmas this year was fairly blah, though watching one of my oldest childhood friends tie the knot on New Year's Eve was lovely. Sadly nothing tickled my fancy as worth blogging about...until now.

Now some of you may have noticed that I like to try to use song lyrics as my post titles (yes I'm a pretentious cow) and may be wondering where tonights title is leading. Well let's just say that this weekend I had an epiphany and we can take it from there ;)

I've always known that men are fascinated by breasts, but until this weekend, I'd never really seen how much they were derailed by a good set of boobs. I'm going to call it 'The Corset Effect'.

This weekend, I went down to London with two pals for 'Afternoon Tease' at the Volupte Lounge. The Tease run's from 2pm-5pm and is a traditional afternoon tea, served with a back drop of the burlesque that volupte is renowned for. Having been to the lounge several years ago for an evening meal and show, I knew we were in for a treat.

The girls decided that they wanted to dress up a little for the show and had both decided on elegant black pencil skirts topped with a corset. Me being me, opted for the lovely new Vivien of Holloway day dress that Santa had brought me for christmas, my original 40's coat, and Great Aunt Elsie's handbag. The only thing I was missing, to be the perfect 50's lady who lunches, were white gloves and a hat. Sally had talked me out of the hat before we left ;)

After I'd laced the girls into their corset (cos trust me, you really need a pal for that) we climbed into the car and headed for the train station. Even with a jacket covering their assets, we turned heads as we ran to catch the leaving train. One poor wee teenager almost gave himself whiplash turning to watch the boobies bounce as we hopped through the closing doors.

Arriving at St Pancras, the heads continued to turn, though by now they were followed with the angry mutters of irate wives and girlfriends, warning their men not to stare. Heading down to the underground, we stopped to look at the map and decide what our quickest route would be. Seconds after stopping there, a short, bald, rail worker materialised beside Joand, staring directly down her cleavage, asked where we wanted to go. I could actually see the drool pooling in his mouth as he watched those perfectly shaped globes rise and fall with her suppressed giggles.

None of us could contain our laughter as we head off to catch our tube, and it only got louder as we discovered that Sally's ticket wouldn't go through the machines. Once again a male rail worker appeared at our sides, and in just a few shorts minutes, she'd been buzzed through on the barriers, without even a second glance at her ticket. Or should I say receipt? You see Sally had put her ticket safely in her bag and held onto the receipt by mistake. There was no way it was going to work in any of the machines!

Arriving at Volupte (by way of another pub's toilets so Jo could haul her tights back into place) we immediately made friends with the lovely Mike, who plied us with delicious cocktails until it was time to be seated downstairs. The table was right on the perfornmance floor and once again, breasticles caused chaos during the very first act. Hula boy was hilarious, and even more entertaining when he took one look at Sally's stunning cleavage and dropped all his hoops. We were reliably informed later that it really wasn't part of the act ;)

So why do those milky round lumps of tissue cause such an extreme reaction in guys? Can any of you tell me? To us girlies, they are merely the cause of many problems, heartaches and for those of us that are well endowed, a serious dent in your wallet. Why does underwear cost so much more as your cup size increases? What can I say guys, breast may be best, but boy are they trouble ;)

www.volupte-lounge.co.uk

www.vivienofholloway.com

30 and flirty and fabulous....well ok, nearly 33 - spoilsport!

I'm hugely into my history. I do victorian re-enactments and I love vintage styles. Being rather voluputous (yes that would be fat to the layman) I find that the styles of the 40's and 50's suit me far more than the modern 'fashions' of today and so I stick to them where I can.

I have always wanted to get some professional photo's taken of myself and back in April I decided to just go for it. I mean, I'm not getting any thinner, younger or perkier, so I figured it was now or never. I asked my vintage pals for their recommendations and booked a shoot. I booked it for the end of August, just before I went back to school and it seemed eons away. I thought I had loads of time to get my clothes and props together, but as life always does, it crept up on me faster than expected and before I knew it the big day had arrived.

So last wednesday at the ungodly hour of 4.45am, I dragged my half dead ass out of bed and into the shower. By 5.40 I had put petrol in the car and picked up my pal Jo, 30 mins later I had collected my sister and set the SatNav for Southend on Sea. Google maps had estimated a 2 hour travel time, but we managed it in an hour and a half and even had time to pop into Asda for a hot brekkie before arriving at the studio.

Thanks to both the SatNav and good directions from Terry Mendoza (the photographer) we found the studio easily and started unloading the car. By 8.30 am I was perched on my chair being ministered to by the hugely talented Hair & make-up artist I had booked. A mere two and a half hours later, I had completed my transformation from frumpy to fabulous and was ready for my close-up ;)

Now Terry had warned me that he doesn't like to bring friends into the studio itself, as he feels it makes his subjects more self-conscious. Despite this, I arrived with my entourage of my sister and my friend Jo. I needed my sister to help me in and out of my corsets and Jo was interested in having a shoot done herself and had come along to see how it went before making her final decision.

I went into the studio in my first (of about 6 or 7) outfits and Terry grudgingly (which is understandable) said that they could come in for one or two pics. He suggested a few warm-ups shots to loosen me up, but after all the pampering from the make-up artist and with the fabulous forties music playing in the background I was ready to pose for Britain. I danced and whirled and posed and played and within a few short minutes he stopped to ask me had I been practising for weeks as I was doing great. Funnily enough there was no more mention of making the girls leave the studio ;)

It really was the best experience and I urge everyone to give it a go. I came away hugely liberated and full of confidence. I (will) finally have good pictures of myself that I actually like and want to look at, as opposed to the usual 'Dear God, do I look like that?' photo's of the usual night out.

What can I say guys? I finally feel 30 and flirty and fabulous, so what if it's 3 years too late ;)

You can book your own exhilarating experience with Terry or just ogle the gorgeous pics on his website

http://www.retrophotostudio.co.uk/

Knitcamp 2010 - Major organisational fail, but the people made it great.

So it's been a very long time since I posted, but boy has it been a busy summer. I went from one extreme to another. Last year, I did nothing with my summer and it dragged by slowly. This year I definitely planned way too much and it has flown by in a flash.

Many of you will know that I was hugely excited about attending KnitCamp. I started knitting only a year ago and have found it to be a great hobby. I was keen to learn new skills and techniques and when I discovered that there was a 'KnitCamp' to be held near my mate Lith's place, I knew it was fate. I booked 4 classes, and my flight and began my holiday dreaming.

I know I am far from being the only person who got burnt by British Yarn's Knitcamp, and I have tried hard to remain fair about my comments. Thanks to the many cancellations, Tutors being deported and utter lack of communication, by the time my holiday came around I was dreading it.

The british yarn terms and conditions clearly stated that they would contact their customers to notify them of any changes or cancellations. Well despite my giving them 2 different email addresses, I was not notified about any of my 4 cancelled classes. I found out through ravelry, and either other members, or indeed tutors. despite these cancellations, I tried to remain positive and even went so far as to book another class, an excursion and even 3 nights accomadation at the camp itself. The new class I booked also got cancelled, as the tutor was deported for lack of the correct working visa. I purchased a KnitCamp zip-up hoodie which I have yet to receive and despite my contacting the organisers a week ago, I've still heard nothing about either a refund or actually getting my jumper.

Despite the many, many cock-ups and massive organisational fails, KnitCamp was great. The hundreds of fabulous knitters who attended from all over the world made it great. The atmosphere was amazing and I learnt so much that by the end of the week I was fairly sure that my brain was going to explode. There were official classes and then the unofficial (and often drunken) 'oh that's eeeeeasy, I can show you that. Have you got dpn's and spare yarn on you' classes. Naturally the response to that was always 'but of course' ;)

The tutors who did make it to the camp were expected to 'make do and mend', and use their initiative to help their classes run smoothly. To give those men and women their due, they did a corking job. They were (mainly) friendly and helpful, and very down to earth. They were informative in class and out and it was kind of like rubbing shoulders with the rockstars of knitting. I have to say a huge thank you to Joan McGowan Michael who shared her lunch and dinner with me several times and was a free flowing fount of knowledge to this relatively new knitter. She really was kindness itself and if she visits the UK again and needs a bed, she'll always be welcome Chez Tootsie.

As for my final thoughts on KnitCamp, well they are a little mixed. I will never again attend anything organised by Jo Watson's British Yarn company. However, the concept of KnitCamp is a very sound one and I sincerely hope that someone attempts it again in the future. I think it could work as something that is run every 3 or 4 years, which would give people a chance to save their money (cos damn but it was expensive all round) and it also would give people a chance to put the skills they learn to use and practice before learning new ones.

I do think I've tried to be honest and fair here, but I'd love to hear peoples comments on my thoughts

You can't light a fire without a spark

Dating in the noughties is tough. Gone are the halcyon days when you'd head down the local boozer on a friday, surrounded by a small posse of like-minded mates. No longer can you down 10 cocktails, dance round your handbag for a couple of hours then head home with the likeliest prospect for a night of wanton (and often very drunken) bed wrestling. Not if you're looking for more than a quick tumble for a couple of nights (which I admit, is tons of fun).

In the eighties and nineties we bought how-to books like 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus', but not anymore. There are singles nights, speed dating events, and an increasing horde of internet dating sites all claiming to be the best and capable of matching you with your perfect partner.

It seems that the most common form of dating in today's society is online, but however you try it, the internet dating pool is far from a smooth sail. Whether you dip your toe in, or dive in head first, there are things to consider before you take the plunge.

You have to decide on what you want out of your experience. After all, this is the internet and people will offer pretty much anything on there. Whilst you are happily telling the world your deepest darkest relationship secrets and searching for the perfect fit, the sharks are circling ready for fresh meat.

Why is dating so hard? All anyone seemes to want is a likeminded soul, willing to share their life, but so many people still seem to be living a lonely existance. I chat to my friends, both girls and guys, and the stories are always so similar. Guys are idiots, girls are insane yada yada yada.

Why do we find it so hard to communicate? I know loads of guys who are looking to settle down, yet most of my girlfriends claim that there are no guys like that out there. I know several girls who don't want to be tied down yet, they're too busy enjoying their lives, but again, I hear guys saying that all girls are out to trap themselves a hubby.

When did we stop understanding the opposite sex? I met a lady recently who had celebrated her 70th wedding anniversary a week previously. When the Queen had her 50th wedding anniversary, she invited 50 other couples who married in the same year to Buckingham Palace for a tea party. There were so many couples that they had to have a lottery to choose the invitees. Clearly in years gone by, we didn't have as many problems communicating with each other.

I do firmly believe that there is someone for everyone, you just have to find them. Personally, I have no clue about what goes through a guys head. I have no clue about what goes through most girls heads. Hell, half the time I can't work out what's going on in my own head! All I know right now is this. Yes, one day I want to meet the right guy and start a family, but right now I'm enjoying my life. I like meeting new people, I like having fun and believe it or not I even enjoy my occasional run-in's with the local sharks, though I may need to get a bigger boat ;)

The best things in life are free

Or at least, everyone seems to think they are! This weekend the summer appeared for a brief, shining, glorious few days and so I seized the moment. I spent saturday gutting out my flat, packed up my car, and dragged my ass out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5.45am this morning. My Destination? The local car boot sale. I had been assured that the picking were rich, and that people would buy anything, so I had selected a wide range of items to sell to Joe Public.

I had two friends with me, and we arrived at the sale grounds in a heavily weighed down cavalcade about 6.40 this morning. I hadn't even turn off the engine of the car when there was a tap on my window. 'I look at your stuff!' ' I see what you sell!' Seriously! These guys were like locusts, peering in the windows of the car, trying to pull at the contents of the bags as I got them out of the car. Being as I am far from being a morning person, they got a pretty short shrift. I sent them packing, with a curt 'come back when I've unpacked'.

Once they were out from under my feet, I got the stuff out nice and quickly. I kicked back in the chair I'd actually remembered to bring along, whipped out the knitting and relaxed in the bright monring sun. I didn't get to relax long, before the Vultures returned. I get haggling, and honestly? I quite enjoy it it, but these guys weren't haggling, they were just plain rude. They'd ask the price of an item, I'd give them my first quote, but no matter how high I started they'd just go '50p'. Dude, these were brand new shoes, with the label still on, that cost £40 to buy in the shop. Not a freaking chance love. They'd come back every 20 mins or so, clearly thinking they could wear me down. One lady Vulture was not amused when she returned to find the handbag she had coveted had been sold. 'what price you sell at?' ummm the same one I quoted you originally love.

The vultures weren't the only ones though. I know there is a credit crunch, but these people seemed to want something for nothing. No matter how cheap it already was, they wanted it cheaper. There were times when I felt like asking if they wanted me to open a vein while I was there since they were already ripping me off.

While I had fun with my friends, I don't think I'll be doing it again for quite a while. It was an awful lot of work, for very little return. I came home with almost as much as I left with, and immediately put the lot of it on freecycle. I guess I'm not destined to be a Delboy anytime soon ;)

where has this year gone?

It's been nearly a year since I finally let my mum teach me to knit...again. Mum is an amazing knitter, creating gorgeous traditional Irish arans off the top of her head. How could anyone compete with that?

Back when I was a school girl in Northern Ireland, it was compulsory for both boys and girls to knit something each year, though the only thing I can remember doing was a very badly knitted bear. I really didn't like knitting back then and I was very relieved when I moved to secondary school and I was able to give it up.

Six years later, with the long summer holidays stretching before me, I decided to teach myself to crochet. I figured that since Mum didn't do it, I would be able to learn at my own pace, and not have to live up to the high standard she had set. I picked it up really quickly and thoroughly enjoyed seeing pretty lacy finished items flowing off my hooks.

I've crocheted off and on over the last sixteen years mainly cos I find it such a relaxing pasttime. Last summer, I discovered Ravelry, and my eyes were opened. I was a mere neophyte, nothing but a dabbler in the art. The many varied projects there were works of art, and more importantly, their range of patterns was vast. Way beyond my scope of imagination that's for sure.

Seeing the many beautiful objects on offer there, I decided it was time to get over my aversion to knitting. Mum had planned a visit to my place, and when she arrived we took a wander up the High Street to the LYS. One set of needles and a ball of sock yarn later, we strolled back down the street and my lessons began.

Perhaps becuase of my many years crocheting, I took to knitting quite well. Granted it's a whole new language, and sometimes it's far from straight forward, but I do really enjoy it. I started out small with scarves and fingerless mitts, and have worked my way up to shawls.

For mum's birthday this year, I knitted her a lace shawl. It was the hardest thing I'd tried, and to call it a labour of love would be an understatement. I cried over that thing, and sweated, and cursed, but I persevered and was thrilled with the final result.

I love knitting lace patterns, and I love the way blocking the project can make such a huge difference to the finished item. However, having started a new lace project, I've discovered something new about myself. I hate knitting with lace weight yarn. It's like knitting with thread! I'm using the most gorgeous yarn created by Jen over at Fresh From The Cauldron, and the colours are the only thing keeping me going with this wrap. I can't wait for it to be finished!

www.ravelry.com