Saturday 25 September 2010

Back and still disastrous

As you all know I am now back in the country and have been for some time. I think it's safe to say that my life is now very uninteresting and consists mainly of me trying to apply for jobs between pulling pints for lecherous old men. However, it would be wrong to think that my life is no less amusing (from the outside- for me it is still disastrous) and so I thought that as we are constantly threatened by terrorism, economic collapse, environmental meltdown and a rather oddly shaped government why not bring a little smile (if I can) to you and see that life really isn't so bad. It could be worse. You could be me.

Apart from the obvious things that I have done in the last few weeks like severely scalding my leg with mint tea or poisoning myself with tesco-own vodka I thought I would relay my recent little trip to London town.

My visit was based around two plays which I had been invited to see with a theatre company I interned for and having a "chat" with an arts PR company about more interning. Between these outings I was going to get a cheap haircut with Toni and Guy trainees maybe do a spot of shopping and generally enjoying the capital. Exciting, relaxing and productive what could go wrong?

Let me start by saying that I was going to drive to the Thornhill Park and Ride. I haven't driven by myself until very recently and I imagine most people's mouth's have just made that "ee" shape like when you're watching a home video show and someone falls backwards over a deckchair. I thought I would drive to Thornhill get the coach and be in London fro 1.45pm for a haircut. My dearest mother gave me directions for Headington so that I wouldn't have to go on any scary dual carriageways this did involve driving through some countryside that I swear I have never seen before. I almost gave up but sure enough the signs for Headington appeared and I found the Park and Ride. The only problem with this was that there wasn't a parking space. Not one. I decided I would do the adult thing and call my mother. No reply. Shit. Right I was going to be an adult God damn it I would go to the other Park and Ride in Watereaton. I would go through Headington to Summertown. Right. How do you do that again? After making up a route, I found myself in Headington which was chock-a-block with road works, new students at Brookes (bloody students) and people leaping out in front of me. Did they not know that I had relatively little control over my vehicle and would/could probably kill them? (It turns out probably not since at some point during this debacle my P plates had either been stolen or fallen off). I stalled at several traffic lights, stopped suddenly at another set of traffic lights almost causing a collision with the driver behind; I got to Summertown, same situation- reckless pedestrians, roadworks and even worse school children. Parked down South Parade, almost cry, stop, have to try and parallel park because damn road is too narrow just to stop in, try to call mother again, no reply; carried on to Watereaton after again stalling/pausing too long at roundabouts; at Watereaton; found parking space; ran to bus; looked at watch-now 1pm. I call Toni and Guy and convinced them to hold my place for me after begging and looking like a crazed/flushed person running down George street.

After that the day gets a little better, have lovely haircut from nice young man, which turned out to be free. Feeling a lot better I step onto Oxford street and now I have to get to Dalston to see the play. I have bus number but really no clue about which end of London Dalston is. I get on a bus and vaguely remember the map I saw from the station to the theatre and think "Oh someone will be able to direct me". I ask the first passerby when arriving in Dalston and he directs me up the road and to turn at Tescos. Cool. Get to tescos and ask the security guard, he directs me down dark side road. Hmmm. Not convinced but having faith I amble down for about twenty minutes ask another person who tells me to keep going. I then get to a big junction and ask a few people where the theatre is none of them know and someone says "Isn't that in Dalston?" I am a little confused until I see a sign saying the "Hackney Downs". I am now very lost and very late. In a fit of panic I call my dearest older sister to Google map me and the theatre and find my way for me. It's times like these I think the Iphone would be a good investment. She chastises me for not organising myself but finds my way and I arrive as the bell goes for everyone to go in. Yes! Success. On the way back the overground trains are all delayed so I have to get a series of buses home that take an hour and a half. I no longer care but I think Jen does though when I have to wake her up at 12.30 so she can open the door for me.

So London Day 2 has got to be easier. I over-plan both my journey to the theatre and the PR company. After I meet with the PR people (which I hope went well) I head to covent garden for some shopping since I have four hours til the play. My phone is now running out of battery so I do the proactive thing and find somewhere that will charge it for me. Now who knew that in vodaphone there are little lockers in which you can charge your phone by putting money in a meter and take a key away with you and retrieve the phone when it is charged? An excellent idea I think you'd agree. I am browsing along Long Acre and decide that I will just go and get my phone now so I'm not rushing later- I amble up to the shop and it's closed. Ah. My mother and sister keep asking me what time this was- I don't actually know because I use the clock on my phone. The irony is not lost on me.

So now I can't think what to do; I need my phone but that would mean staying another night to get it back in the morning but I'm supposed to be working at 10am. Tricky. I decide to get to the theatre earlier than planned and use a phone there. The theatre is easy to find thank god. I very politely explain to the box office man what I've done and now need to phone my mum to get my sister's number to ask if I can stay an additional night. I also have to google my work's number and call them to explain I will be a little late for work the following day due to this error. I have to keep repeating what I've done down the phone to the great amusement of the staff. My mum at this point is driving to Glasgow and has to call me back from a motorway stop with my sister's number. What the box office staff failed to tell me was that the phone I was using didn't ring, it only flashed. After trying to call one another many times, calling a wrong number and mistaking someone who was calling for Ellen (a theatre employee) for my Mother (Helen) ("Yes, yes my mum's called Helen I think the call's for me. What? Ellen? Who's Ellen?") my sister managed to get through to me. She agreed to let me stay another night as I downed a glass of wine after realising I wouldn't be driving.

The following day I retrieved my phone and when turning it on get a variety of messages from friends and family including an anxious one from my dad asking if I was in a cell.

*I should breifly explain that before, when I was arrested at the protest, I text my sister from the police van to tell her what had happened but to tell the parents that I had lost my phone therefore, not to panic if they couldn't get hold of me. Ever since then losing a phone is apparently synonymous with prison time to my parents.*

I get to Paddington board my delayed train and worry how late I am now going to be for work. Coincidentally at that instant I get a phone call from my the pub telling me that I wasn't down to work today and that I'm not working til 6. At this point I began to laugh hysterically.

It was only when I got back to Oxford that I began to worry about the car. I thought I could leave it there for free for 72 hours but Jen was convinced that after a day you needed to pay. If it had been towed or I had a fine (which I wouldn't be able to pay) my Father would kill me. Oh really just kill me. As I slowly approached where I'd left my little Ford Focus, I spotted that dented boot (my grandma's work not mine) and there it was in all it's blue glory, Brian, my car. I threw my hands in the air in a Rocky type gesture and drove home. Luck was finally on my side and I only stalled twice.