Friday, 24 June 2016

THE STUFF THAT BINDS US

So the world is reeling, I am reeling. This is the biggest political event that has ever happened in my lifetime. Whichever way you voted the future is now uncertain and we are in a limbo of the unknown. When so much is up in the air and change for better or worse is underfoot I feel the one thing we need to do is focus on humanity. The stuff that binds us: kindness, patience and support.

There is so much hatred in this world, so much anger, so much injustice that we need to look at what we CAN do to make a difference. Even if it is a tiny difference. Smile at someone on the street, return a lost wallet, reassure someone. Anything. We need to help people see that, whatever the future, wherever you are, the spirit of human kindness cannot and will not be stamped out.

We need to work from the grass roots up: a butterfly spreads its wings and a hurricane starts. Who knows, that one smile you give one person could spur them on to make a difference in someone else’s life, could give them the confidence to smile at others, to approach someone in need, to change the world.

Whatever your views on religion and what man has done with it, the fundamental basis for them all is kindness. Love and kindness. Do unto others as you would have done to yourself. That is how we need to live our lives, to treat a stranger as our best friend, to be selfless and look out for others. I know it is far more easily said than done but actually, somehow, if we can look past ourselves and let things go, it is not that hard after all.

Because of who I am, who I have grown into, I will always look for an inclusive world, a hopeful world and a world that, no matter what is thrown at it, will try and do its best for people. I know I am idealistic, possibly na├»ve and hopeful to a fault but honestly, I see nothing wrong in that. We need hope, we need love and we need support. 

These are all the things we were taught as children: be kind, share what you have, don’t snatch, say sorry, forgive and have patience. They sound like a pretty sensible way of living to me.

We can but try.

Laura x

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Wednesday, 15 June 2016

DARRALL THE DESTROYER

When I was of the tender age of three, I got stuck up a chimney. Yes, my intrepid search for proof of Father Christmas’s existence sent me and my long suffering Carebear clambering up the sooty, pigeon-infested, vertical tunnel (not a euphemism). Only to find that a) He was not there (admittedly it was June, my scheduling was off) and b) Getting down was not as easy as getting up.


Ever since that day, I have been inescapably accident prone, earning me such titles as The Spiller, Calamity Darrall and my new favourite Darrall the Destroyer. Throughout my blog I have detailed numerous occasions in which I have fulfilled these nicknames to the hilt, eking out every syllable with embarrassing situations that leave my insides turgid with cringe and my outsides red as a radish.

However this week has taken the biscuit. The last chocolate hobnob to be precise. (Note to reader, never take the last chocolate hobnob in my presence, it will result in carnage).


I am, once again, up in my beloved Lake District, home of the wonderful Theatre by the Lake where I am lucky enough to be performing in their summer season. The second show of this year is the Hitchcock thriller Dial M for Murder, transported onto stage by five valiant actors and an incredibly complex lighting and sound design.

During the play (I won’t spoil it for you) my character, Sheila, (not of Sheila’s wheels) is involved in a fight, resulting in eventual strangulation, though not necessarily death… ambiguous suspense… Part of the fight takes place on a desk. A delicate, antique desk. You can guess where this is heading.


Ever heard of the wrestling move Rock Bottom? It is an epic finishing move (not to be tried at home) made famous by Dwayne Johnson aka The Rock, where he lifts his opponent into the air and slams them down on their back. Very dramatic.


Well, I experienced the Rock Bottom. Only this time my opponent was a desk. Not a muscle bound wrestler.

Whilst being strangled on the aforementioned structure, its legs decided to buckle from underneath slamming me to the ground with only its wooden top as my cushion. My strangler, cat-like and agile, performed a nifty drop roll off the top, narrowly missing the opportunity to join me in a heap on the floor. Selfish, if you ask me.

Needless to say my rear end now looks like an atlas. It already looked globular but now it has the deep blues of the ocean and the greens of the hills to decorate it.


The desk has since been reinforced with a steel frame. That’s right, steel. Darrall the Destroyer strikes again.

If only it had ended there. Two days later I cracked the back of my head open by laughing at a joke. Yes, LAUGHING at a JOKE. 

The sofa I was sat upon was strategically placed in front of a ledge, thus if one were to fling one’s head back when snorting with mirth, the velocity and position of the fling and the ledge combined could only result in collision. Some say jokes are side splitting, I now know them as head splitting.


The bang must have resulted in the loss of a few precious brain cells as only a few days later with friends, I filled up a pint glass with what I assumed was ginger ale, only upon gulping it down to discover it was in fact ginger cordial, concentrate, which needed to be diluted ten-fold before drinking. It was like putting a thumb over a hose-pipe.


So all in all it has been a successful week! I would say you’ve got to laugh but I now know the dangers of that. So instead, just smile. Smile far, far away from desks, ledges and cordial. And smile because it makes you and others feel good too. CHEEEEEEEEEESE!


p.s If you haven’t already, check out my #itaffectsme Mental Health Campaign and get involved!
Selfie+post-it+donation+share= #itaffectsme