Looking up?

It's funny how things can start to turn around and make everything feel OK.

Over the weekend I decided I was going to change my attitude (which had been rather negative) and put myself out there more and enjoy as much of the London experience as I could. I therefore went along to an AFHR performance, saw a gig on Sun and went to the theatre (by myself!) on Wed night. Good things have already started to happen. The Secret was right all along...

Of course, first there was the news about the funding. Now I have a purpose, at least 2 1/2 days a week!

Then last night I went to a doco screening with a new friend (another CB! I have so many friends with those initials! And I'm married to BC...) and a TV/film producer insisted that I should contact her for a meeting and send her my showreel - I'd only been speaking to her for about 4 mins! After the cold calling and the (so far) unsuccessful approaches to agents having someone initiate a meeting with me was amazing. CB was impressed as well - we both know that hardly ever happens. CB and I went on to have a lovely dinner, all in all a good night.

I suppose it shows the difference between face-to-face meetings and trying to introduce yourself over the phone. I'll have to make myself go to more events (which, given my usual lazy, verging-on-anti-social nature will require some effort! Resisting the pull of the doona and DVD...)

5 weeks til Ben comes over.

2 weeks til I move to my new place.

3 days til I start earning £

Looking up?

It's funny how things can start to turn around and make everything feel OK.

Over the weekend I decided I was going to change my attitude (which had been rather negative) and put myself out there more and enjoy as much of the London experience as I could. I therefore went along to an AFHR performance, saw a gig on Sun and went to the theatre (by myself!) on Wed night. Good things have already started to happen. The Secret was right all along...

Of course, first there was the news about the funding. Now I have a purpose, at least 2 1/2 days a week!

Then last night I went to a doco screening with a new friend (another CB! I have so many friends with those initials! And I'm married to BC...) and a TV/film producer insisted that I should contact her for a meeting and send her my showreel - I'd only been speaking to her for about 4 mins! After the cold calling and the (so far) unsuccessful approaches to agents having someone initiate a meeting with me was amazing. CB was impressed as well - we both know that hardly ever happens. CB and I went on to have a lovely dinner, all in all a good night.

I suppose it shows the difference between face-to-face meetings and trying to introduce yourself over the phone. I'll have to make myself go to more events (which, given my usual lazy, verging-on-anti-social nature will require some effort! Resisting the pull of the doona and DVD...)

5 weeks til Ben comes over.

2 weeks til I move to my new place.

3 days til I start earning £

The good news

Finally, my job has been confirmed! CB called this morning saying she got the funding. What's more we've been given funding for 2 years not just 1! Very exciting.

This will help me to feel more settled and have something to do every day. I'll probably officially start next week I think.

And I can start earning some goddam pounds! The $AU is not my friend over here.

Hoorah!

A Vampire Weekend weekend

So I'd never heard of Vampire Weekend (because I'm embarrassingly uncool) but when SD asked if I'd like to go with her to a gig on Sun night I figured why not? Hell, I'm trying to make friends and see things in this crazy new town so there's no excuse to be anti-social (back home I had the excuse of Ben!) SD is an Aussie girl I've met through friends here who is in a similar situation to me - trying to make it in London. She's a TV writer and trying to do the same shite cold calling producers etc.

Anyway, the gig was great. They're a really fun band, playing up-beat, happy pop music. But there was a group in the centre-front of the crowd who were acting like hooligans at a football/soccer match - yelling out chants, pushing people over, throwing bottles onto the stage. It was really distracting, not to mention intimidating for the band no doubt. Security couldn't even throw them out because there were about 15 or 20 of them and they were right in the middle of the scrum. One of the bottles whizzed passed the keyboardists' head and almost smashed into a guitar that was propped up the back. Arseholes. And the weirdest thing is - the music is so happy! How could anyone be aggressive when listening to that??

It's amazing how embarrassed one can feel as an audience member if other audience members are acting like wankers. It feels like when your primary school teacher used to say the whole class would be punished for someone's bad behaviour.

I've been staying with P&T, who are my saviours. Had 3 options fall over today for places to stay until I move into Bethnal Green on the 15th. I'm going to a hotel tomorrow, because P&T have another friend coming over, then I might have to come back here. They say they don't mind and I hope that's true - I don't want to push it too much! I'm trying to be the best housemate ever (doing more than my share of washing up, for example!)

Return to Sender

I will never trust the postal service in this country again. A box that Ben sent me in September has been returned to sender after a complicated and frustrating process.

Customer service in London is not the greatest in the world, I must say. I have called the parcel company four times in the past 3 weeks and twice the person on the other end was really rude to me (on one occasion he even made me cry!) What's more, I had played by their rules and done everything right, despite the fact that they don't tell you what any of the rules are! For example, they only keep a package for 20 days (including weekends) but that isn't mentioned on their delivery slip, so how the hell are you supposed to know that? Regardless, I happened to contact them (via the web) on the 19th day to get the package redelivered but it never arrived at the post office. The guy who made me cry said the parcel was too heavy, but there was nothing about weight limits online and no-one called me to tell me it would be a problem. Mo fos.

Hopefully Ben has the receipt so we can make an official complaint.

Grrrr.

FG and I also got some grumpy service at a bakery the other day. These two Polish women glared as soon as we walked in and didn't crack a smile for the next 5 minutes. I suppose it's fair enough that they're grumpy, the Polish are pretty vilified over here at the moment! And, to be fair to the Motherland, later that day we got some excellent, smiley service at a vege restaurant in Muswell Hill (which included a free smoothie!) so we're going back there tonight!

In other news... had a job interview at a large chain of stationary shops. Shit money and they wanted people to work basically full-time over Xmas. When they called me the next day I didn't answer my phone! Sent them an email politely declining the job. Just think it would be too depressing. Got a job interview in a few weeks for a theatre/cinema complex, which would be much better, and CB should find out about funding for my job in the next fortnight.

So things will get better. I know that. In the meantime I need to give myself reasons to get out of bed in the mornings. Especially when it's someone else's bed!

xxx

How to drown one's sorrows

London (reflective of the UK in general I think) has much more of a pub culture than a cafe culture. Australians may consider themselves to be big drinkers, but caffeine is probably the drug of choice for many, whereas in London it's not uncommon to start drinking at lunchtime (even on a weekday).

The odd thing is though that, although most of the pubs look the same from the outside (like Olde Englishe establishments) some are very cool and some are not, but you can't tell what a pub is going to be like until you get inside. The bad pubs are identifiable as soon as you walk in the door - filled entirely with old men nursing a pint at the bar or on their own in the corner. These are very sad places. There are plenty of watering holes that don't fit this description, you just have to know where to find them!

Ups and downs

The good news is...

• got a meeting with an agent next week
• have moved in with P&T, staying on a mezzanine/loft level in their lovely Kentish Town flat
• seeing (and hearing!) JD sing tonight at St Martin in the Fields church
• Ben might come and visit earlier than we had thought, probably before Xmas

Bad news is...

• sick of the transient lifestyle
• I miss Ben
• still don't know about my job

The art of rejection

The 2 rejection emails I got today (yes, another one since my last post) demonstrate, in my mind, how to write a rejection and how not to.

This is the nice rejection letter:

Dear Charlotte,

I have spoken with J and unfortunately I am afraid that we are not really in a position to offer you representation at the moment. Please do understand that we are a small agency with just 3 full time agents. We are very busy with the clients that we already look after and rarely can take on anyone new.

I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you but do encourage you to write to other agents who may be able to help you. If you do not know of it already, I would recommend ‘The Writer’s Handbook’ for advice and contact details.

Good luck and best wishes,

T

She offers some advice, lets me down gently but also offers some encouragement. Here is a shite rejection letter:

Dear Charlotte

Many thanks for your email. MA no longer works at ***. Unfortunately the Film and TV Agent’s here JC and GH are already considering a list of prospective clients and at present due to existing commitments and current heavy workload are unable to offer to meet with you.

I am sorry to be the bearer of disappointing news on this occasion. You can find full details about ***, our agents, who we represent and our submissions policy at www.***.co.uk

With kind regards
H

Not only is this clearly a form letter, but it sounds to me that they doth protest too much! They offer 3 excuses not to meet with me instead of just one! And then she has the cheek to send me to their website.

Note: I have removed the names of agents and the agencies. You probably figured that out for yourself if you're not a complete berk.

One down, one thousand to go...

I've just had my first official rejection from an agent.

At least they got back to me! And as far as rejections go it was very nice.

I think this is going to be the start of a long and frustrating process.

I can't move to Bethnal Green for a while so I've been house-hopping. Today I leave the bourgeoise comforts of Kensington for the exciting adventures of Kentish Town! People have been very nice offering me a place to stay.

And seeing as Actors for Human Rights has not received the funding for my position yet, it's a good thing really that I don't have to pay any rent! I'm working on a sort of barter system, offering my cooking skills (and witty repartee) in exchange for shelter! I have a job interview for a Christmas retail position on Tues, which would hopefully work alongside the AFHR job but I can work more hours in the retail job if AFHR's funding isn't confirmed by next month. Rates of pay for casual jobs are crap here though. Worse than in Australia, although the full-time and part-time jobs seem to pay better. So fingers crossed for AFHR!

Moving to a new country is pretty annoying. I need proof of address to get a NIN (like a TFN), I need a NIN to get a job, I need a job to get a place to live...! Getting dizzy anyone?

I'm sure once I get a few things going and settle into my own place things will start to look up.

Here's hoping something comes along soon!

xx

Gay Paris

1st October

• Our French breakfast friends had gone so we had petit dejeuner with a German/Indonesian couple. Everyone in Europe speaks multiple language, the Indonesian woman was a German citizen and spoke German, Indonesian, English and French! Unbelievable.
• We drove the car back to Dijon, which was much closer than going back to Lyon. I performed a set of musical hits along the way, the most popular of which was definitely I Will Survive. The audience (ie: Ben) was most impressed.
• Our GPS, which had been such a good friend to us throughout our French travels, failed us at this final hurdle. Coming into the Dijon train station we wanted to fill up the tank. Our GPS told us 5 petrol stations... 4 of which didn't exist!! Finally found one but it wasn't staffed with human beings, just credit card machines, and it refused to take my credit card (and, as regular readers will no doubt recall, Ben's credit card was eaten by a machine in Rome!). We finally gave up and went back to the train station, which was being renovated, so we couldn't go into the normal carpark. We eventually found the Avis shop, but we arrived at 1:05pm and they had gone to lunch until half past! We couldn't even get into their carpark, we could only sit in the taxi zone and get yelled at by French cab drivers. Stressful. We got into the carpark when the Avis woman came back and handed over the keys with pleasure. When they charged us for the petrol we ended up paying $400/day (for 3 days).
• Bought train tickets to Paris. Train was leaving in 15 mins. Thought it was Platform 1, but there was no Platform 1. Turns out it was Platform I.
• Arrived Paris. At a hotel in a great spot, in the St Germain district, but there was a demolition job going on outside our window! I kid you not. From 9am til 6pm. Jackhammers on concrete. And the heating in the room wouldn't turn off.
• We had some crepes (naturally) and went to meet my friend EH and her boy R, who had just moved to Paris to study at the Sorbonne. Speaking of annoying people who speak numerous languages, EH speaks 5 (English, French, Portuguese, Spanish and Mandarin) and R speaks at least 3 (maybe more, we didn't ask!). Hung out in a cool Parisian jazz bar. Felt uber urbane.

2nd October

"How many nutella crepes can a man eat in a day?" This quest underpinned our final day in Paris and the last day of our European Honeymoon. Ben did find out the answer.

• The cafe we went to for breakfast charged €5.50 for a coffee!! That's $8! And it wasn't spectacular coffee either. Ben's order of a crepe was actually 2 crepes. So 2 so far.
• Went to Gard du Nord to buy Eurostar tickets. Eurostar in chaos. After a fire a fortnight earlier and a train stopping in the tunnel a week later all their services were disrupted. Huge queues. When we finally got to buy our tickets we couldn't get the time we wanted and it cost twice as much as we had expected. Crap. Another early morning tomorrow then.
• We were tired but couldn't nap at the hotel because of the construction!
• Ben had another crepe after lunch. 3.
• We walked around the island in the Seine. I sat down and read the paper while Ben went to Notre Dame, I was a little over old churches! I just wanted to relax.
• Ben had another nutella crepe. 4.
• We hoped the demolition work would have stopped by 5pm. It hadn't. By 5:40 we gave up trying to relax at the hotel and went to get a beer.
• After dinner (with a very grumpy Italian waitress) Ben had another crepe. 5. He felt ill, but the answer to the day's question is 5.

A taste of regional France

28th September

• We got up early to catch the train to Dijon
• Train to Dijon was fully booked. Not another one til late evening. Crap.
• Caught train to Lyon instead.
• Arrived mid-arvo and went to hire a car. The first 2 places had nothing available. Avis had a small automatic (driving on the other side of the road we didn't want to have to worry about gear changes) for only $300/day!! Ripped off. But necessary.
• While Ben tried to figure out how to drive the car (searching everywhere for the handbrake, which, it turns out, is automatic!) I tried to figure out how to use the GPS.
• Got stuck in traffic, with the GPS insisting we turn down roads we couldn't turn down, because there was an inline skating race on! Half the streets were blocked off for it! Who knew rollerblading was so popular in France.
• We arrived a bit late in Vezelay, a tiny medieval village south of Paris. Our B&B hosts were waiting for us because they had to go out. Great B&B, called Le Porc Epic, but they don't speak any English. The ground floor of their house (which is on a hilltop overlooking a picturesque French valley) is an art gallery. There was this cool wooden sculpture, about 2.5m tall, of a spiral staircase made of books.
• Went to dinner at a creperie. Had goats cheese crepes. We both felt sick but Ben pushed ahead and ate a chocolate crepe for dessert as well. He regretted it later.

29th September

• Woken by the town hall clock outside our bedroom at 7am.
• Had our petit dejeuner. Another couple were staying in the B&B, Olivier and Amelia, two Frenchies. We spoke a bit in French but then it was clear their English was far superior to our French (it's embarrassing but it's always the way!)
• Walked around the tres petite village. There's a beautiful cathedral on the top of the hill. Most tourists to the town are actually pilgrims to the cathedral.
• We had a great idea to walk to the nearest town. It was downhill on the way there, so no problems, but getting back...
• We sat by a pretty little stream, enjoying the countryside cliches.
• Got lost as we detoured to see yet another old church. We had to walk through a field in the mud, past some horses, to find our way back to the main road.
• That evening we did more walking, going around the back of the village, beyond the ol town wall. We found a cute little 12th Century chapel and accidentally interrupted some Monks chanting! We didn't realise it was still "in use"! They weren't impressed.
• The creperie was closed (some kind of public holiday, Vacance du Soleil?) So we tried to find somewhere else with vegetarian food. Not easy. Eventually we had to contend ourselves with a restaurant that had one vege entree! So we ate tiny pieces of eggplant wrapped around a slice of goats cheese (about 3 cm in length). We asked for a main course size and were given 4 of them! We had to eat dessert just to try to fill up.

30th September

• We had petit dejeuner again with our French friends. They called Avis for us to change our car drop-off point. I gave them my email.
• Went to the Salles Fontayne, the Gallo-Roman baths.
• Drove through some gorgeous little villages. Only went on the wrong side of the road twice! (oops!)
• Went to the site of Julius Caesar's greatest victory, when he defeated the Gauls at Alysse St Treine (now the town of Alysia). It was really very cold on that hilltop. So, you could say cool in every sense of the word.
• Abbaye Fontanaye. Old Abbey and grounds. Ben got more and more excited with every historic site. It was very cute, like a child in a toy shop. Then, also like a child, he got a bit grumpy when we couldn't go to the Templar Church! There was a sign pointing off the road, but then it said "par rendez-vous" (by appointment). We tried to just go up and have a look anyway but we got forced off the narrow road by a tractor who yelled at us and we almost bogged the car trying to turn around and go back. When we got home, we tried to call to arrange and appointment but couldn't get through.
• Creperie wasn't open again (for this same holiday I think. 2 days!) so we decided to drive to Avallon, the nearest "big" town. It was clear Vezelay didn't have any culinary options for us. Half the restaurants in Avallon were closed too. Eventually found a nice looking restaurant... where we ate the WORST MEAL EVER! It was like a buffet from a Tabaret venue in Geelong (we should have known... Avallon!) We had cold potato salad and boiled eggs. No joke.