Mojo the Play: Review

Recently, I went to see Jez Butterworth's Mojo at the Harold Pinter Theatre near Leicester Square. 

Before I had even bought the tickets (*cough* persuaded my dear mother to buy tickets *cough*) I knew that I was going to like this play a lot.

To be honest, even when I sat in my seat I didn't really know what the production was going to be about about. But just look at that cast! So many major names that made stars swim in front of my eyes. The fact that my favourite actor was one of those names (Ben Whishaw - don't tell me you haven't heard of him) was also a relatively high factor in my wish to see Mojo.

As I sat in the stalls four rows from the front (Imelda Staunton and Jim Carter were about five rows behind us - just saying) I could barely contain my excitement.

Then the curtain lifted and the onslaught of bad language, murder, drugs and cheesy Rock'n'Roll moves began. It was divine.

The play is set in a seedy club in Soho in 1958. The big boss (and father of one of the employees) has died in very suspicious circumstances (let's just say he ended up in two dustbins). The play follows five main characters who all work at the club and how they cope (or don't cope as the case may be) with the situation they find themselves in. As the mystery unfolds, we find out more and more about each uniquely outrageous character. 

None of the star-studded cast disappointed. Even Ron Weasley (I'm sorry, Rupert Grint) impressed in his theatre debut. Together with Daniel Mays (Mr Biggs to ITV viewers) Grint had the audience in stitches with a constant reel of hilarious dialogue.

Ben Whishaw (did I mention I love this guy?) certainly did not disappoint either. Playing the creepy and complex Baby, it was difficult to know whether you wanted to laugh or cry at his performance but, either way, you could not take your eyes off of him. He stole scenes in which other actors were displaying high levels of talent merely by sitting and staring. And who knew that the man can sing?

Add into the mixture golden performances from Brendan Coyle (Mr Bates off Downton Abbey), Colin Morgan (Merlin) and Tom Rhys Harries (no idea either but one to watch). All six actors lit up the stage and pulled you into their crazed world.

The mesmerising acting, witty script and accurate depiction of 1950's Soho made up for the large amount of passive smoking that you have to endure for over two hours.

If you can still get tickets I recommend you buy them RIGHT THIS MOMENT. Don't even put some thought into it. I've seen it and you will like it. Unless your ears are particularly sensitive to the C-word or the F-word. In which case you should probably go to a musical.

http://www.mojotheplay.com/
@MojothePlay

My Favourite Place in the World

I have been to a lot of places.

New York. Japan. Austria. Poland. Rome. France. Budapest. Prague. Croatia. Florida. Grenoble. Luxembourg.

And I have many more places left on my list to travel to.

But let me tell you about my favourite place in the world. It’s a bit closer to home than you might think and perhaps not quite as exotic.

Killarney National Park, Ireland.

Yes, I know, it rains. A lot. But, for me, that has never changed the beauty of the Irish countryside. Whenever I have been in Killarney and it has been raining, I didn't care one bit.

When it’s raining and you’re forced to shelter in a pub with an Irishman that’s so inebriated that he stares at you and shouts “OBAMA” in your face for a while – that’s a different story.

But back to the countryside.

Killarney National Park has been stuck in my mind for a long time. From the family stories of previous generations who lived in County Kerry to the first time I stopped at Ladies’ View with my family at the age of twelve – I guess it’s always been in my life somehow.

My most recent trip to Killarney at the age of twenty, I was just coming out of a particularly rough time. That week in Ireland I spent with my family, I remember it was the first time I felt like me again. The struggles of the past year magically melted away and I bounced through valleys, up hills and mountains and around lakes (admittedly falling off a rock and into a lake along the way – but, hey, at least I drenched AND joyful). Even the fact that my grumpy teenage sister didn't want to be there one bit made it all the more entertaining.

Sitting at the highest point of Ladies’ View (a roadside spot that apparently Queen Victoria’s Ladies-in-Waiting loved so much back in 1861 that the view had to be named) I always feel calm and like I never want to leave. Looking down the deep valleys, I always have to restrain myself from running into the view knowing that I will only tumble headfirst down the hill and ruin the moment.

And, in addition to the amazing views and tranquility, the people are fantastic (plastered old Irishman aside – or maybe included. I’m unsure.) The people that you run into whilst exploring the wonders of Killarney National Park, with their South-western Irish drawl and their friendly greetings (yes, “top o’ the mornin’ to ya” is among those), makes the experience all the more fun.

I know that other Irish countryside enthusiasts will argue endlessly with me about the most beautiful views in the Emerald country. But, in my eyes, Killarney National Park has them.

How can you not love those views? In sunshine, drizzle or downright Irish downpour Killarney is the place I love. I’ll be back there soon enough. 

How not to commute

Thanks to a wonderful new job in the city I am now experiencing the joys of the train commute. Morning and evening I join thousands of people on England's glorious railways. And I may have only been doing this for a few weeks, but I have already learnt a lot about the Great British Commute. Through silent observation, I have compiled a list of the people who are not well-liked on the journeys to and from work. 

1. The Snuggler

In case you had not noticed, personal space is quite important to the British commuter. Even on a packed out train. Large amounts of stretching or falling asleep on your neighbour's shoulder may result in a lot of tutting and your neighbour trying to climb out of the window of a moving train. Please stick to the vicinity of your own seat. 

2. The Snorer

Just don't do it, okay. Commuting is bad enough without having to deal with your nasal problems. 

3. The Conversationalist

Look around you. Do you see anyone else trying to strike up a conversation? The only reason that the British commute does not end with severe bouts of mutilation is purely because everyone zones out and pretends that no one else exists. 

4. The Broadsheet Reader

If the person sat beside you had wanted to read a newspaper they would have bought their own rather than sharing your copy of The Telegraph. A normal-sized publication would suffice. 

5. The One-off Traveller

It's 7am. Please show less enthusiasm. 

6. The Technological Hazard

So you have an ipod, two phones and an array of other fancy devices? Wonderful. You do know that they all have silent modes? The noise of your Candy Crush saga is interrupting my nap. 

7. The Sickly Patient

I spent a whole week dishing out disgusted looks to people who were coughing, sneezing and sniffling all around the carriage. Unfortunately, the next week I was the one on the receiving end of such looks. Coughing fits are apparently not tolerated on trains. Next time I will try to show more sympathy. 

8. Children

Screaming, whining, abundant energy and an unnatural devotion to Peppa Pig. Just no. 

9. The Refreshment Man

Ideally, Mr Refreshments, I would like to be in the warmth of my own home. But if all you can offer my from your trolley of not-so-delightful delights is lukewarm tea and a packet of Quavers then I think I'll pass. Unless you have a bottle of gin hiding in there somewhere. 

10. The Seat Thief

This is the most dangerous person to be. If you see that someone has spotted a vacant seat and is headed towards it DO NOT try to get to it before them. If you plant your bum in their seat you will more than likely end up unconscious. 

There you have it. That is pretty much what my mornings and evenings now consist of. Just make sure that you don't fall into any of the above categories and you should survive any commute. 

Thoughts on gardening

Since moving back home from university and finding myself drastically unemployed, I have unexpectedly found myself filling my days with all kinds of domestic duties. The newest (and most surprising) chore that I dabbled in is gardening.

Okay I will admit that I did stand in my garden, trowel in hand, completely clueless as to what I should be doing for a good few minutes before my mother pointed out that digging was probably a good start. A while later, looking like I'd had a fight with a mud bath and lost, twenty sunflower seeds had been sown and watered (considering we don't have the biggest garden in the world, I have a horrible feeling that my parents are going to wake up one morning to a sea of yellow).

So, what did I make of this green-fingered malarky? Let's see...

I guess it was kind of satisfying. But relaxing? I think not. By the time I'd completed my Garden Force endeavour I was a sweaty mess and had soil under my fingernails and in my hair. I think if I'm going to use any domestic skills to impress a man I should probably stick to the kitchen.

Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly proud that I managed to weed, dig and plant my way through the garden. And who knew I was such a genius with a watering can? But then you have to WAIT. I only planted the minuscule seeds yesterday and I'm already staring into flower beds wondering why I can't see anything yet. I am not an impatient person. I just want to see flowers NOW.

A friend of mine suggested that I should talk to my little planted projects. He was more than likely joking (or he knows that I'm crazy enough to try) but I have heard that this is a thing in the crazy world of gardening. I'm curious to know what you are actually meant to discuss with a pile of dirt. Do you comment on the glorious summer weather, offer words of encouragement or read out excerpts of Cosmopolitan? As a budding horticulturalist, I will gratefully receive any advice on the topic.

However, after endless weeks of waiting I am guessing (and hoping) that the end result will an array of cheerful looking flowers having been watered, nurtured and invited into stimulating conversations. Then I am sure that it will all have been worth it. Either that or I will have moved onto bigger and better things. Like tree surgery.

Jessie Pavelka

“Who is Jessie Pavelka?” I hear you ask. Well, let me tell you. He is not just a pretty face (a VERY pretty face at that). You know, he looks alright. And by alright, I mean incredibly handsome in a "buffed up Prince Charming" kind of way.

I met him for the first time last week and, I will admit, I was slightly irritated. Jessie was intensely jet-lagged, rushed to get ready and looked nothing other than perfect. I had had a good night's sleep, had an entire morning to get ready and still looked like a short-ass gremlin. I mean, that’s really not fair. Fortunately, I'm never in demand for photoshoots so I guess we can let him off.

Secondly, the guy is like a walking, talking fitness encyclopedia. He knows his stuff. His passion and enthusiasm makes you want to immediately do a series of push-ups, squats and burpees yelling "LOOK JESSIE, I'M FIT TOO!" (I'm not. If I had attempted any kind of push-up I can guarantee that I would have looked like I was trying to hug the floor. But that is beside the point.).

Jessie is internationally recognised as a Fitness and Wellbeing Expert and Specialist in Extreme Weight Loss (fancy, huh?). He has already graced British and American television screens with his life-changing work on SKY’s Obese: A Year to Save my Life, and  Lifetime’s DietTribe,  and motivated the masses on Oprah’s OWN Wake-up Workout,  The View, and The Doctors . In July 2013, he will be returning to SKY presenting the equally inspirational FAT: The Fight of My Life. I repeat, on JULY 15^th he will be presenting FAT: THE FIGHT OF MY LIFE at 8PM on SKYLIVING and it is AWESOME (my job here is done…).

For the past 10 years Jessie has been dedicated to helping others to develop practical solutions to lose weight, live well and thrive through exercise and nutrition. Jessie learned much of what he knows about the fitness industry during his time as a professional bodybuilder and fitness model. Yes, I said bodybuilder and model. Stop drooling.

On top of this Jessie has starred in a number of popular TV shows such as “Friday Night Lights” and “Rita Rocks”. As if doing a ridiculous amount of exercise, encouraging other people to exercise and generally looking handsome and well-exercised in countless magazines wasn’t enough - he acts. No big deal.

On a more serious note (but please keep reading), his friendly but firm attitude towards participants on Obese: A Year to Save my Life and FAT: The Fight of My Life is both motivational and makes for compulsive viewing (which is why you should WATCH IT).

Jessie is also a patron of UK charity HOOP (Helping Overcome Obesity Problems) which aims to help to be the voice of the obese person and to assist them in finding healthy solutions. Yep, the guy’s also caring and incredibly generous. Bored now.

Dividing his time between the US, UK and Canada, Jessie Pavelka is certainly rising as an internationally recognised star and symbol within the Fitness, Wellbeing and Extreme Weight Loss industries. As well as being internationally recognised eye candy.   

Just as nature intended

Flicking through the latest issue of Closer magazine (my guilty pleasure when I can no longer be bothered to read sombre news articles or lengthy literature) I came across an article with the blaring titles “CELEBS DARE TO GO BARE” and “NAKED FACES!”. In short, seven B-listers (and that’s me being nice) of different ages agreed to be photographed without a hint of make-up. Although I’m sure I saw some lashes of mascara and some powdered noses.

The article got me thinking about how myself and other girls have become increasingly reliant on numerous beauty products. The celebrities had varying reactions to their bare-faced image. TV presenter Andrea McLean declares that she feels more comfortable when she’s not wearing any make-up. Whereas reality TV stars Vicky Pattinson and Gemma Collins reveal that they feel much more confident when wearing some slap and feel overwhelmingly self-conscious without it.

Now, I like to think that I have a fairly natural look and wear a minimal amount of make-up compared to other girls in my age group. But when I got thinking about it, I noted that I rarely leave the house without applying at least a layer of foundation and a dash of eye make-up. It’s as though I look in the mirror every morning and think “no, this won’t do”. My product-less face feels vulnerable and I wrongly think that I look perhaps ill, unattractive and even laughable. In this image-obsessed age girls have to confront so many issues regarding their looks. Blemishes fill us with horror and our natural skin is never good enough.

I know that I am not ugly. Okay, I don’t have flawless skin, but then who does? I still look youthful. A face without make-up should not be totally abhorrent to me. Yet, even on small family occasions, my younger sister and I still feel the need to plaster on the products and “beautify” ourselves. Yes, I agree, when applied correctly and creatively us ladies do look pretty with a few cosmetics. But should we rely on our growing make-up bags to support our image every day of the year?

Today I tried an experiment. I went into town without any make-up whatsoever. And, although it was a slight battle getting myself out the door, wandering up and down the high street was not as nearly as terrifying as I thought. The shops were busy, I spoke to cashiers and ran into people I knew. No one pointed and sniggered or yelled “HEY! You look…different….”. So I guess the moral of today’s story is that I should take more pride in my natural appearance.  Although when I head back to work tomorrow morning I guarantee the foundation brush will be back in hand. My natural look will have to rear its fine-looking head another time. 

Laughter is the best medicine

I have a cold. It's my second cold of the year. And both have been full on, "I can't feel my face" type colds. 

I would like to put this display of illness down to the ever-changing British climate rather than the somewhat unhealthy student lifestyle that I have dipped in and out of for the past four years. But that would be lying. The past few weeks (final exams done and dusted) have been one non-stop party, one which my liver has not enjoyed so much, and now my body is punishing me for all extreme alcohol consumption. 

The amount of "fresher's flu's" and partying-induced colds that I have experienced over the past four years should have made me an expert on how to deal with them. Not the case. Every time I catch one of these miserable maladies I curl up in a ball feeling very sorry for myself. I flit between gulping down lemsips, dabbing my nose with kleenex and trying to get my hands on as much vitamin C as possible (this is the only time you'll witness me doing this). 

However, one thing I have learned is that sickness prompts me to watch an awful lot of comedy shows. Sitcoms, if you will. And that this does in fact help with the general "I feel like death warmed up" syndrome. Along with the endless mugs of lemsip, of course. 

When I was younger, sick-days would be spent on the sofa watching re-runs of Friends episodes. In more recent years, many a sitcom has popped up to fulfill the same cause. These easy-watching, laugh-out-loud TV series provide the patient with a distraction. Films and TV dramas have plot twists that require too much concentration that the sick and sniffly just can't implement. 

This week I put my theory to the test. Saturday night (party night but, you know, whatever) I went to bed early with a sore throat that promised the onslaught of every possible flu symptom. I watched nearly an entire series about the ventures of a serial killer. As addictive as the programme was, I can safely say I felt no better having watched it.

I spent the rest of the weekend (and Monday and Tuesday) watching anything from Mrs Brown's Boys to 2 Broke Girls to Blackadder trying to shed the effects of my night-time drama watching. And, although I am still coughing and sneezing away, I definitely feel more optimistic about fighting off this beast of a cold.

So, a word of advice: if, like me, an unhealthy lifestyle has finally got the better of you and you are also curled up feeling sorry for yourself, when faced with a choice between Titanic and How I Met Your Mother...always go for funny.