"I am the man"

When I created this blog, one of the things I wanted to use it for was to let all you lovely people know when I would be doing any acting malarkey:  

ta DA!

In two weeks I shall be performing in The Liverpool Network Theatre's production of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night!

If you're in the area and fancy an afternoon of mistaken identity madness then come and check us out!

Info on how to get tickets is available from here:

 http://www.liverpoolnetworktheatre.org.uk/

Hope to see you there

xxx

Great things come from little rooms...

I've always shared a room...

When I was born I shared a room with twenty screaming babies,

shortly after I shared a room with my Parents,

when I was big enough I shared a room with my two Sisters.

We shared a room for many many years... You really don't want me to go into that!

After a brief stint of having a room to myself at University I finally got my OWN room.

My parents moved house just over a year ago and with it came a room I could call my own, a room that's mine to come back to whenever I want it, a room I could decorate how I wanted it, basically the best thing about it was that I didn't have to share!

There's only one thing though... It's tiny!!! 

The phrase 'You couldn't swing a cat in there' certainly comes to mind. I do have a cat... maybe I should??? No?

So anyway to get to the point of this post, because there is one believe it or not... On the weekend I visited two very special houses:

Mendips 

and

20 Forthlin Road

Ring any bells?

Here's a clue:

I visited the childhood homes of Paul McCartney and John Lennon.

Now I never thought I would write a post about The Beatles... I'm not exactly a huge fan... I know, I'm a Scouser and I'm not a die hard fan of The Beatles! Shock Horror!!! But the thing is I grew up listening to what my Mum and Dad liked. My Dad was into his Dire Straits and Status Quo and my Mum boogied on down to Barry White and Tina Turner!

The Beatles didn't get a look in at the Cox household!

You may be thinking 'What's the connection with my room and The Beatles then?'

Well I have one thing in common with Paul and John, and that's the size of our bedrooms. John's bedroom in particular was practically exactly the same size and layout as mine, in fact his whole house was practically the same as my Parents house.

To think that in those small little rooms that's where they played their guitars and created some of their earliest songs. It's amazing! I was totally in awe going around their houses and loved every moment of it. I even belted out a Beatles number in John Lennon's porch on the way out. 

So the point I'm trying to make is that 'Great things come from little rooms'... So there is hope for me yet!

I can't play the guitar though :s But I do have a violin under my bed... I can't play that either!

xxx

One night in A & E

I am not a fan of hospitals... Is anyone?
To have to spend the night in one is certainly not my idea of fun, but because of my own stupidity that is exactly what I had to do.

I've been in hospital once before to get a mole removed, but that was an arranged operation nothing compared to A and E, and I got toast!

So back to my tale of woe, it all started with a romantic gesture. I decided to cook pasta for the Irish Rouge and it all went a bit wrong, whilst draining the pasta I managed to pour all of the boiling water over my hand instead of down the sink... Mega ouch!!!!!!!!!

*I'd just like to point out that I lived in Italy for six weeks, I cooked pasta everyday, and not once did this happen... Not once!!!!

I held my hand under cold running water whilst The Boy dished up the tea, then I sat and ate with my burnt hand wrapped in a wet towel. Cue - Sad and embarrassed expression on my face.

At first it was fine and I couldn't really feel anything, but as the night went on my hand started to burn. It was an unbearable feeling and no amount of cold water was making it feel any better. After a lot of 'Um'ing and 'Ah'ing and a phone call to NHS direct I decided it was probably best to get myself to A and E.

The hospitals A and E department wasn't what I expected it to be like, I thought it would be really noisy and full of people with body parts falling off. In reality it was actually quite quiet, apart from the drunk man in the corner snoring! They had a television playing 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and a broken sweet machine... Very swish.

I felt like a little bit of a fraud sitting there holding my hand out like it was diseased. Everyone around me seemed to have much worse ailments, there was an old woman who appeared to have broken her arm, a man with a broken ankle, a girl with a broken nose and then there was this other girl who was limping but to be honest I think she was just there to get the strong painkillers... Her suspicious looking Dad seemed to want the painkillers more than she did.

After waiting for what seemed like hours and hours I was called in to be seen by a doctor. The girl with the fake limp sniggered at my second name... Bitch!

I was given special burn cream by the doctor and very strong pain killers, she told me I was lucky and if I hadn't have got water on it quicker it would have been much worse. She also said that if it blistered bad then I would have to return to get the blisters drained... Eww!

My night in A and E wasn't quite as dramatic as I thought it would have been, but it was a bad enough experience that I knew I didn't want to spend another night there.

The next few days saw me sleeping with a plastic bag on my hand to allow the cream to work, the same cream that turns your hands a dirty grey colour :s I took the pain killers for a few days, but stopped taking them when I was dribbling uncontrollably. How very glamorous!

xxx