foxfulloffantasy

[foxfulloffantasy]

The Power We Have

Its eerily quiet in the eye of the storm. At least, that’s what I thought this grey Thursday morning, as I entered the polling station to be greeted by two friendly ladies and an empty community hall, scattered with Hot-Yoga leaflets and the throat-catching scent of 100 year old dust. It felt the same last time. It felt the same the time before that. Months of drunken debate and 1am declarations of uncertain certainty. Weeks of abandoned tweets for fear of post-tweet tweet regret. Days of shaking off the creeping sense of doom by loudly exclaiming “the youth could swing it. They might”.

But they might not.

I have grown unhappily familiar with that all consuming feeling of defeatism. I feel it every time I turn on the news and listen to them talk about a divided country I never voted for. A government that doesn’t reflect my values. As long as I have had the privilege of voting, the vote has never gone the way I voted. I like to think I have built my views around my beliefs. I’m not reductive enough to think they aren’t likely influenced by the friends I surround myself with. The music I listen to (The 1975’s ‘Love It If We Made It’ battle cry hasn’t left my soul for months) and then the algorithms my Facebook feels appropriate to brain wash me with. I try to step away from it, distance myself emotionally so it doesn’t consume me or leave me dry sobbing into tomorrow’s copy of the Guardian.

But then I remember why it’s so rooted in us to care.

But then I remember why we always should.

I listened to Bob Dylan on my 3 minute walk to the polling station this morning. I listened to him ‘sing’ (does he sing? Or does he just make you listen?) that the Times They Are a’Changing. Those drawly words echoed through me, almost 50 years later. Timeless, he blew some wind (*rolls drums quietly) carrying hope into my morning. When the youth wanted change in the 60’s, it started with Rock and Roll in the 50’s. And there wasn’t Facebook back then. No funny yet mildly aggressive memes to get your point across. No. They had music. They had words. And because of them and their vision of a different world, their music and their words and their protest created that change.

So, Bob Dylan’s song gave me hope.

Then, I refreshed my Facebook feed. In between folk posting pictures outside their polling station with their flat whites awkwardly placed in the frame (is this a political statement? I’m confused) and the BBC Political Correspondent telling me at 9am Labours chances were screwed (is this allowed? I don’t think so Laura) was a photo of a woman who also demanded change. Emmeline Pankhurst. I studied the Suffragettes at GCSE. My history teacher was sure I was bound for imminent failure (feel a bit silly for chasing me down the corridor for that coursework now, Mr Jackson?). What no one at the time realised (or cared about.. probably) was I had engrossed myself in the Women’s Suffrage. Maybe because, as a woman, they don’t tell you what it means to be a woman until you’ve grown the boobs and made the mistakes. 15 is quite old, to know that until 100 years ago, you were ‘less than man’. I wanted to be an actRESS. I was a waitRESS. How are we to know where that ‘ess’ derives from unless you know to look for it? I looked for it. I read everything I could find and I gave Peter Jackson the shock of his life with an A* in the bag (brag). I read more because I felt it. I understood it somewhere in my soul. Those little things in everyday life that are engrained in society to make women have to work harder to get further made sense. So I respected Emmeline Pankhurst. Commended Emily Davison for throwing herself under the Kings Horse and decided I would always vote. And I always did. Because they died and fought and suffered so that we could.

So that Facebook picture gave me courage.

And then I cast my vote. I crossed a box and smiled at the lady at the table as it slipped into the mix. I thought about all of the different stories that lead to those crosses. I felt the doom wash away, because in one way, at least for today, it was over. As I walked out I crossed paths with someone else, her brow furrowed and determined and a Morrison’s bag stretched precariously around her groceries. I’ll never know what change she wants. But then, isn’t that what we will all always have in common? We all want something to change.

I sat on the bus, everywhere I looked newspapers covering faces. Headlines damning both sides and moguls biases barely disguised with new-age propaganda. It’s so hard not to be angry. The power these people have to change all of our minds. The power to manipulate and manoeuvre and Murdoch your way to the highest high castle. I looked at my phone and refreshed my feed again. A video I’ve watched 1,000 times, demanded be played at far to many parties and the first time I saw it; ugly cried to alone in a mouldy flat above a McDonalds in Liverpool. For the one thousand and first time, I pressed play.

“You, the people have the power - the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then - in the name of democracy - let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world - a decent world that will give men a chance to work - that will give youth a future and old age a security.” – Charlie Chaplin

When we tick that box, in that booth, in those community halls, we have the exact same amount of power as those men in high castles. In that moment alone, nothing separates us. And it absolutely terrifies them.

So, Charlie Chaplin gave me power. Well, he didn’t give me it. Just reminded me we have it. We. The people.

[foxfulloffantasy]

One Year.

Exactly a year ago I was sat on my bed in Malton, North Yorkshire. I felt really, overwhelmingly, irreversably and unbearably sad. I had found myself in the exact place I knew was coming for 3 years but nothing could prepare me for how terrifying it really was. It felt like I had walked out of LIPA and left my rose-tinted glasses at security. My student card became invalid, and with it as did I…

Bloody hell, I definitely didn’t leave the drama at LIPA.

I decided to channel all of my positivity into a blog. It was very 2016 of me. I wrote until I felt I had portrayed exactly how I wanted to feel and then waited impatiently to feel it. Whilst waiting for the miracle to occur I got a job as an entertainer. I’ll say politely now while hoping not to offend anyone who likes being a red-coat esque pirate-by-day, bingo-caller-by-night (because hats off to the incredible people I met there, you work bloody hard) it wasn’t for me. Not at all. I tried hard, at one point I even put an actual flame in my mouth but the taste of parafin felt like a reminder that I was way out of my depth and had taken a wrong turn.

I quit. I thought we would be moving to London pretty swiftly so I threw myself into unemployment. We didn’t move quickly and although I love my family with all my heart Malton didn’t feel like home anymore. All of my school pals had moved too far on (bar Holly, miss you) and there really wasn’t anything there for me anymore. Also the train ticket to London was about 100 quid and my £6.75 an hour princess-impersonater job wasn’t quite meeting the bill when I got a last minute audition.

I moved to Manchester with Django and his wonderful mum and dad. More specifically Prestbury. It was wonderful. I worked on a Village Hotel bar that actually resembled Faulty Towers (all part of the charm) but I met some lovely folk and started to come out of the post drama school fog my brain had been in. The future was clearer than ever and I stopped worrying. Worries give small things a bigger shadow than they deserve.

London calling.

I moved to the big smoke. I wasn’t scared because I had waited for months to make the step. It felt right and I settled in straight away. I had a couple of weird jobs that I knew weren’t for me. We found our favourite pub and with that I was at home (The Faltering Fullback, Finsbury).

And here we are. A year on from graduating. A year wiser and a year bigger (literally, I’ve gained a dress size. God, I miss movement class). I work in Soho now and I love it. Huge steps have been made this year when I reflect, even if they seemed small at the time. I’m writing this for myself, but also for anyone who leaves the sanctuary of Drama School this year. It’s massive and new and a bit terrifying, but here is some things I’ve realised to maybe keep in mind as you flip from graduating to graduated.

• Keep in touch with your friends. You share a special bond and if you maintain that it will never fade.

• Keep motivated. It’s easy to fall into a rutt and wait for everything to come to you. They will come much quicker if you enjoy the moments inbetween. Remember you can create anywhere.

• Love yourself. Everyone says this but it’s so important to surround yourself with people that pull you up and say goodbye to anyone who does otherwise.

It’s been a year since I wrote my first blog and although I sounded positive I wasn’t. And that’s fine. All that matters is that I am now. Carry on learning, take every opportunity. Even if it seems mad.

But most of all, forget everything I’ve said. Make the mistakes you are bound to make. Learn from them or make them again. Fall apart and piece yourself back together. Move away or stay put. Just don’t give up because it will happen anytime, anywhere and who knows who will help you out. All you can know is that it will be YOU who will do it.

For you.

With love,

The forever hopeful, reflective and still ready girl with the horrendous roots that really need doing. I mean, I work in a hairdressers, I should get on this. I usually sign with blonde girl but SERIOUSLY I need to sort my mop out. Anyways, I’m distracted Ciao.

[foxfulloffantasy]

I wrote a poem

Hasn't everyone? Whatever, it explains my thoughts about the world right now. See below. How can we comprehend such cold and unjust ends? No rhyme, no reason. No thought, no feeling. And all that we are seeing Is the news flash on our phone. Fatalities? Unknown. Desensitised by the media But we all still feel the fear Because the gap is getting smaller Closer to the people that we love. Love. Love is louder. Love is what you spread when you pull your trigger. You push us all together And we will never, ever, ever Let you win. We will join our queues Cook our beef stews Stick on Corrie And sing together in glory. And maybe you will slow us down But not for long. God, we've been rained of with bombs. Then kept calm and carried on. We can't fight terror, that's not how it works. Violence is disease and the spreading must cease So that we can live in peace And always have hope. Hope that among the billions of humans humanity will prevail Hope that everybody stops reading the bloody Daily Mail. Please Stop using idealist as an insult because I wear the title with pride If "leftie" means not thinking it can be justified To have a weapon that could commit genocide Then fine, whatever, I am one. Only a fool would think that this "war" can be "won". A bomb for a bomb and a gun for a gun? Education is real power. It's time you come down from the ivory tower. I'll leave you with this, a pretty famous quote. Hopefully it won't leave you on a sour note I've pinched it, actually, but I doubt Ghandi would mind "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

[foxfulloffantasy]

Who should be Who?

I’ve been pondering for a couple of weeks now about what to write about. I haven’t had anything profoundly life altering happen to me of late. Everyday is solidly good. But one solitary question plagues my days.

It seems I cannot log onto Facebook, enjoy a glass of wine or chat with friends without my opinion of a certain (rather pressing) subject being required. It’s not even like my opinion, in the grand scheme of things, really matters. BUT alas, to settle the matter once and for all, and so I can say “see my blog” when drilled for a response, I will now weigh in.

Who do I, Bethany Fox, think will be the next Doctor?

What an anti climax this must be to most people. It could have been my opinion on the meaning of life but nope I will instead ponder all ponderings I’ve had regarding a fictional BBC character.

To those who know me well (or even not well, just happened to have seen me drunkenly deliver a cracking Doctor Who monolgue) know that I am a huge fan of Britain’s favourite screwdriver wielding, K-9 walking, gun hating hero. It’s no lie I have committed to the title ‘Whovian’ and I wear the badge with pride (hell, my ringtone is the theme tune). But with Peter Capaldi’s announcement of his departure suddenly everyone is interested (and so they should be).. But to answer the question on everyone’s minds I think it’s important to look at what the Doctor is and what he means to his fans. I write “he” I am aware, don’t fret, it’s habit, I’ll touch on this later.

Stephen Moffat wrote about the scarf-wearing madman with a box; “It’s hard to talk about the importance of an imaginary hero. But heroes ARE important: Heroes tell us something about ourselves. History tells us who we used to be, documentaries tell us who we are now; but heroes tell us who we WANT to be. And a lot of our heroes depress me. But when they made this particular hero, they didn’t give him a gun–they gave him a screwdriver to fix things. They didn’t give him a tank or a warship or an x-wing fighter–they gave him a box from which you can call for help. And they didn’t give him a superpower or pointy ears or a heat-ray–they gave him an extra HEART. They gave him two hearts! And that’s an extraordinary thing. There will never come a time when we don’t need a hero like the Doctor.”

This, for me, sums up perfectly what he is. To me, since I was 10, he has always been the kind and complicated hero. A character with an incredibly difficult past, who ran away in a blue box. I think people connect with him because of the moments you see this pain seep through the quirkyness that sometimes cloaks it. I believe for this reason the actor who plays this part needs to be able to reach these emotionally high stakes. In “Rings of Akaten” Matt Smith delivered a speech in which The Doctor begged a parasite to “take my memories” and he reflected on every loss and birth he had seen. This speech for me finally conveyed to the audience his age, really really really really old.

The new executive writer of Doctor Who will be Chris Chibnall. He has previously wrote Broadchurch, Gracepoint and Camalot (so essentially he is David Tennants biggest fan, but unfortunately he can’t be the Doctor again). His work, to me, focuses on relationships. The episodes he has written in the past of Doctor Who (The Power of Three, 42, P.S.) have explored human connection and family. I think the next Doctor will be the opposite of Capaldi (who rarely connects with humans, bar Clara) and we will go back to something more David Tennant. We may, once again, see a Doctor romance. For these reasons, I think the casting will focus not on “quirkyness” and the next Doctor will be more human than Matt Smith and Capaldi. This, in my opinion, rules the, albeit brilliant, Richard Ayoade out.

While I’m ruling people out, I hope I can say with a small degree of certainty that we won’t be seeing the following as the famous Timelord (despite people telling me they should),

• Danny Dyer. No offense to everyone’s favourite pub landlord but I’d eat my hat if he could convey the most intelligent man in the universe. Also, just read this in his voice “Oh, big, big mistake, really huge. Didn’t anyone ever tell you there’s one thing you never put in a trap, if you’re smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there’s one thing you never, ever put in a trap.” Hilarious. •Sue Perkins. When the first woman Doctor boards the Tardis, I hope she’s an incredible actress. I know Sue is hilarious and an amazing writer/comedian, but I don’t think she’s the first female Doctor. •James Cordon. He has already played a huge role in it. Too big a character. Would be weird. •Miranda Hart I can’t imagine her playing a character as dark as the Doctor needs to be.

But aside from the above, and many other odd suggestions from the papers (Harry Styles, are you kidding?) everyone should understand the Doctor could be anyone. He can be a woman. He can be black, brown, green and have 12 eyes. Why? Because he is a fictional alien, who is billions of years old.

This isn’t like casting a woman to play a historical figure who was male. This is casting a person to play a character who is intelligent, hilarious, solitary, neurotic, brave, happy, crazy, heroic, lonely, old, young and incredible. Why on earth can’t a woman be all those things? Answer- she will. Stephen Moffat smashed the preconception that the Timelords only regenerate in a male-male pattern.

I could really go on and on and on. This blog could last forever. But I am not a Timelord and don’t have forever to pine about imaginary time travellers.

In my opinion (although no doubt the beeb have already cast it) Olivia Coleman would be an incredible Doctor. She is able to tap into extremely high stakes emotionally, she’s funny, likable and I think could be dark. She has already worked with Chris Chibnall in Broadchurch and has played a tiny part in DW before. It’s no secret the BBC love to cast her in almost everything (which is fine with me) but why not go the full hog and throw her in the Tardis to? She could definitely be the Gallafrayen hero.

So could Sian Brooke. I’ve seen her star in 3 things over the last couple of years and I believe she is one of the most talented and versatile screen actors in a long time. Watch her in Sherlock. Catch her on Mooreside. And oh yeah, it takes a lot too outshine Cumberbatch in his own Hamlet but her Ophelia was spellbinding. She is relatively unheard of, which seems to be a trend when casting a new doctor… I’m also relatively unheard of… Just saying.

So there’s my weigh in. A couple of years ago I would have probably said that the format works and that the companion is just as good a role.. But why? I have absolutely no idea. Change is good. As Matt Smith said “Times change, and so must I”.

It’s time for a woman to take on the whole wobbly wobbly timey wimey universe.

That’s what I think.

[foxfulloffantasy]

A New Years Resolution Blog

I didn’t spend much time pondering over what I would resign myself to committing to this year. Last year it was to cook more, yet I still found myself at the Chinese at 8pm most nights, and I could tell you Sainsbury’s entire ready meal collection with individual reviews (the carbonara is great). The year before I vaguely made a pledge to exercise more, so Jimmy kindly took me on 2 short runs around the cathedral and I then decided it wasn’t for me.

But this year I have decided not to worry It sounds quite basic. Pretty obvious that everyone wishes they would worry less and do more and that worrying over something that HASN’T BLOODY HAPPENED is stupid. But I worry about everything.

I worry about people. I worry about their opinion of me and whether they find me funny or irritating. I pledge now to no longer care, and to continue to be absolutely hilarious regardless of the opinions of people that probably don’t matter.

I worry about acting. And the fact that I’m not doing it all the time. I pledge now to do something to do with acting whenever this worry pops back into my brain. Whether that’s watching a film, reading a monologue or speaking in a Glaswegion accent for an hour.

I worry about my health. I am a huge hypochondriac and…

You get it I worry about everything. But what worrying does is gives a small problem a big shadow. It makes life seem heavy. I am generally a positive and happy person, but when left on my own with my brain I’m my biggest critic. In fact I’m currently writing this blog after been told specifically to rest up, because I’m ill, but I worried about wasting a day so here we are. But as soon as I stop writing I’m having a bath and submitting to this cold. So here’s to a year of worrying less and instead doing more (straight after I shift this cold).

Best wishes and a happy new year,

The former worrier and very blonde girl.

[foxfulloffantasy]

Being a Graduated Actor

“I recently graduated from the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts” said the glamorous, intelligent, funny blonde girl (wink wink).. “Oh, cool. So what do you want to do?” replies the semi-interested stranger. “I want to act.” responds the witty, talented, slightly annoyed and very blonde girl. “Oh wow, so am I gonna see you on the telly?” asks the customer, not looking at the girl, instead watching the pint she pulls, willing it to go faster. “Well actually, I have an audit-” starts the desperate blonde girl. The stranger takes their pint and leaves, to talk to his friends sat opposite the bar. The blonde girl picks up a cloth and…

You get the picture. You’ve probably had the conversation. Rule number one, you have nothing to prove. And no-one cares. Maybe that’s a tad harsh. Of corse people care, but you can’t expect everyone to understand your goals.

What an allusive start to a blog. It has been a long time since I’ve written something on here, not due to a lack of stuff to talk about but mainly because every time I started writing, it wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted this blog to be about. I don’t want to moan on here. I want it to be positive. It’s hard to accomplish that when you are not .

It’s been a long few months. Lots of change, both personal and location wise. My first blog seems like a bloody long time ago. I remember writing down my thoughtful and inspiring muses, talking about how we are not here for ourselves but for the whole world ect ect. I’d like to make a small adjustment to my original way of thinking. In this exhausting, challenging and incredible industry- you need to put yourself first.

Now I don’t mean, be a dick. What I believe is that if you don’t look after yourself no one is gonna see you the way you wish to be seen. I’ve spent so long putting so much pressure on myself to achieve that I was getting in my own way. Let me tell you about life as a graduated actor so far…

It felt as though my life was going 100 miles an hour and then I changed train, got off my high-speed 1st class Virgin train and boarded the East Coast slow moving steam train. I spent a summer acting as a Pirate at a theme park and checked my phone hourly for anything. A sign. A casting. A personal message from Stephen Spielberg. In my clouded head the only way forward was to move to London. Then things would happen. Then it would start. Chapter 2 ect ect.

It doesn’t work like that.

This entitled attitude of waiting made me lazy. I wasn’t doing anything for myself. I was relying on others to make my career happen. I developed an air of desperation. I wasn’t living in the moment at all, I was only looking ahead. I even had a countdown app on my phone. Telling me the hours and minutes until I could start the ever allusive chapter two .

It’s important to realise that Chapter Two doesn’t exist. Only the now. And only in the very moment you are existing in can you make any change to your life. Nothing is guaranteed. As soon as I realised this, with the help from a great book “The Art Of Being Brilliant” (READ THIS BOOK). I changed my way of thinking. I was proactive and positive. And the change was instant.

I started getting auditions again, I changed my headshots (twice) and I was so much happier. I even started writing a play, it’s taking a while but I love it and I’m passionate about it. This all happened because of one simple phrase-

None of us have enough time on this earth to count down the days

In the time you waste between auditions, enjoy your life. Because then it will shine out on your mug and people will enjoy talking to you. You won’t be desperate because you will know that nothing means everything.

I’m writing this ‘inspiring’ nonsense because I’ve had a glass of wine (oops) and have just come away from a good audition. I know it was good because I didn’t focus on getting the part, I focused on doing what I KNOW I can do, and meeting exciting new people. Before I went in I wrote down everything I’ve done that I am proud of (another great tip from that book) and I walked in with a new attitude. A positive attitude.

So, to conclude. Positivity is vital for any graduated actor. You are in this on your own BUT so is every one else. My best friend sent me a great message last night when I confessed my nerves and it read-

“the second you tell someone you can’t do it, they will believe you.” (Thanks Anna)

You are an actor. BUT enjoy your shifts behind the bar, at the theme park and then the gaps in between jobs will seem shorter and you will be ready when it comes.

With love, The positive blonde girl x

[foxfulloffantasy]

A Fleeting Fringe

This blog entry will be similar to my time in Scotland’s beautiful capital, short and (hopefully) equally sweet. 

The last time I visited Edinburgh I was twelve. Unappreciative and just starting my journey as a sullen teenager. I also looked like this- 

There is no real reason to share this information with you other than to show off that gorgeous lime green tracksuit. If only I still had the gives-zero-shits attitude necessary to pull off such a bold number. Alas, this time around, I looked like this-

Edgy, I know.

Anyway I had a great time this time. Here’s what I got up to at the fringe.

Day 1, Thursday Night

Train was running late from York. By an hour, you can imagine my distress. I got into a quiet passive aggressive argument with Susan the ticket lady surrounding refunds and cancellation fee’s and was just making progress when I completely undermined myself with my Doctor Who ringtone screaming from my pocket. The ticket lady laughed and I walked away defeated. But this is all also irrelevant I just needed to get that off of my chest.

Eventually I arrived in sunny Scotland, greeted at Waverley station by Django, thousands of people and the distinctive sound of bagpipes. We had food and wine then caught a midnight showing of ‘Will Seaward’s Spooky Midnight Ghost Stories’. It was a great show to start the fringe experience with. Mainly because that’s what it was- an experience. No, I jest, I enjoyed the crazy nature of it and for a one man show the energy didn’t falter at all. Unlike me, who was shattered after working for 6 hours and arguing with ticket assistants. So after the hour of utterly mad yet hilarious ghost stories it was time for bed.

Day 2, Friday

Rise and shine! Started the day with a wonderful breakfast and then went to leaflet with Django and the cast and crew of the show he’s working on. Due to my current job as a children’s entertainer/pirate/facepainter/balloon sword maker/dj/meerkat/leafleter I was pretty experienced with the ol’ handing out bits of paper. (When I get chance I’ll write a blog all about my summer job, get ready for a great one). After leafleting we met with fringe attendee Joe Hood for lunch. It was nice to see him in his natural habitat whilst surrounded by bagpipes and kilts, it just seemed right. We headed to our next show. This one was my choice. 'Any Suggestions, Doctor? An Improvised Adventure in Time and Space’. This was an hour long improv of a Doctor Who episode, the title and location are suggested by the audience. The location was that of a biscuit factory and the title was 'Zygon with the Wind’ (if you are a Whovian you’ll appreciate the stroke of genius of that). It was incredible improvisation technique and despite being completely created on the spot had a clear structure resembling that of a Dr Who episode. It lacked references to Doctor Who. But overall I enjoyed the brave and comic performances. Anything with a Who theme sits pretty well with me, I didn’t need much persuasion to get on board. I then headed to watch 'Adam Eve and Steve’ which was just great to watch. Hilarious from the beginning, flawless singing and easy watching. There’s my recommendation for an all round good time. ***** We then headed to a Jazz Bar right next door and I saw Jazz music live for the very first time. It was wonderful. Spiffing. Marvellous. I absolutely adored it. ‘The New Orleans Speakeasy Sessions’ are really worth everyone’s time. Ali Afflecks voice is emotionally charged, smooth and effortless. I’m now a converted Jazz enthusiast and I have these guys to thank. Thanks. That’s pretty much everything I managed to fit in (besides a bottle of wine, a bit of whiskey and an extremely questionable shot, sorry again Django). I had a cracking time and loved every minute. 

See you very soon Edinburgh, now back to work I go.. 

PS, give this a listen. It’s beautiful.

https://m.soundcloud.com/alison-affleck/ali-afflecks-copper-cats-07-my-man

[foxfulloffantasy]

The "end"

I’ll never be able to properly explain the mixture of bizarre emotions you are exploding with when you throw that funny shaped cap into the air. I doubt I’m the first who had to hold back the tears and I certainly won’t be the last.

Graduating from the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts was the happiest, proudest, saddest and scariest moment of my life. I sat in awe watching some of the most creative and talented people in the industry collect their degree, and also watched two of my closest friends recieve awards for being the best kind of people: giving, selfless and inspiring. I’ve never been more proud, seeing them be recognised for embodying everything LIPA stands for. In that crazy school I found my friends, my future, my passion and best of all myself (I also found my inner animal and how to crush 400 parma violets in 7 minutes under life threatening pressure… don’t ask). For three magical years I have had the privilege to wake up and not know what weird and wonderful way my day was going to go. This started on day one when I met the class of 2016. I wonder now if I’ll ever be as 100% certain as I was in September 2013. I remember after weeks of nerves and tears in the run up to LIPA, being filled with assurance as we formed our first circle in this huge rehearsal room and started to get to know each other. We were a room full of huge personalities and some of us had never quite fit in, but in each other we found acceptance. You could be yourself in that room with these people, and that is pretty valuable when learning how to accurately portray other people. I knew I’d found my lifelong friends and would spend three years being reminded how completely right I was on day one. (I’d also spend three years being completely and utterly wrong about a lot of things but ah well, that’s life)

It’s a very special thing to continue to be surprised in life. But it’s an even better thing to have been provided with the skills to surprise yourself. I don’t want to bore you by harking back to the variety of bizarre tasks we have been set, but some things just need mentioning.

• Running around the block TWICE at full speed because you had pretended to forget your phone and falling to your knees in joy in when you arrive at a pretend lesson on time. • Building a house of cards to prevent your mates boyfriend been blown up. • Spending hours of my life trying to fully become a deer.

These tasks (plus thousands more) are some of the things that have made the future I dream of seem possible. I know how important it is now to find new passions, say yes to scary things and squeeze the most out of every moment. And I don’t even really know how I’ve learnt it but bloody hell, I have.

So why am I writing all of this reflective pondering down? Because it’s the end of LIPA, and the beginning of something much scarier, but so much more exciting. And I want to share all the ups and the downs here so I continue to self reflect. And I’d love to bore you all with anecdotes of my life.

Next on the agenda for me is the big move. I’m going to London (to buy a heat maga- no. No). No, I’m going to London to start a new adventure. My agent is based there and something tells me the next big chapter starts there too. So going back to that cap flying through the air. When I threw it I was a LIPA student, and when I caught it things got scary. It means I have to go and do what I’ve paid a lot of money to learn to do well: be a deer. Kidding. Act, perform, change and keep on learning.

AND FINALLY, there is a saying on the wall of LIPA outside the Paul McCartney Auditorium I have walked past almost everyday for three years, and I finally truly understood it yesterday when John and Django received their awards for being the best kind of people,

“Non Nobis Solum Sed Toti Mundo Nati.” Which means: Not born for ourselves alone, but for the whole world.

I think I’m ready.