New York

Long time no see. I left off describing my life as a suburban mum of four. It seemed to me that every bugger was writing a blog about the bloody school run and it started to feel like a lot of yacking. Plus the eldest has got into Vloggers and Youtubers, and declared actually WRITING your thoughts down to be lame. It put me off for a while. But now I’m back, mainly because I have escaped. I’ve run away with the circus and the buggers can’t get to me here. So from now on I will use this forum to write about my adventures in New York. Yes I’m in New York. The City that doesn’t sleep. I certainly haven’t since I arrived two days ago. Gorgeous apartment in Brooklyn, but you can’t open the windows and the air conditioning is at war with my sinuses. Even when I turn the dial to Hi-cool it blows out like a furnace. Nearly took my eyebrows off. Last night I saw my lovely friend Scarlett’s show.She’s on Broadway and we went for a drink after. $13 for a glass of wine. Fuck. Although I’m here working for six weeks my budget can’t stretch to that every night. I was supposed to be meeting up with the girls from my show – an all female Henry IV at the new St Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn – but got persuaded to stay out with Scarlett and her lovely lesbian friends. We talked shit all night and had a laugh, and I realised how much I talk about myself – its like a nervous reaction to strangers. I over share, swear too much and refer every conversation back to my experience. Scarlett kept saying ‘1,2,3 Back to ME!’ which made me hoot. They were fascinated about the kids. So many people have done the sad face when I tell them I’m away from home for six weeks.

‘Are the kids coming out?’

‘No – they’ve got school and its too expensive’

Cue sad face and slight darkening of their eyes while they work out if I’m a bitch or not.

I did consider bringing them all over for a weekend but it would have been crazy. And as Richard pointed out, he’s waited 47 years to come to New York – why should the little buggers get to come and spoil his fun? The eldest was devastated and reacted as though we had violated her human rights by not bringing her. I have a long list of presents she requires for appeasement purposes. Several pairs of trainers, a sickening array of ‘candy’ and an iphone. Yeah right. I bought her a Samsung basic phone when she started secondary but apparently that is also lame and she often ‘forgets’ it as a protest. The triplets aren’t bothered too much about stuff, and the boys don’t even seem to be bothered that I’m not there. They didn’t even come to the phone when I facetimed them yesterday. Facetime Mum. Thats me. I get to connect with my family – or at least the ones who will come to the phone – via an app that shows both them and me at the same time, which maked Richard smirk shyly at his own image like some village idiot who can’t beleive there’s a tiny version of my head in his hands.
So I’m free. For six weeks. Free to battle with unfamiliar air con, venetian blinds, microwaves and currency. Free to wake up stuffy and groggy when the builders outside start banging things at 7am. Free to get lost on the subway when the R train stops running and turns into the N train after midnight but nobody tells me and I sit with the poor homeless buggers watching several N trains go by before I read the signs. Free to drink cocktails and perv at the delis. I can’t wait to go to the theatre today. We start technical rehearsals ahead of our first preview this Friday. And everyone loves our accents.


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