A London Weekend...

So I moved to South East London 4 weeks ago and this is the first weekend I've had to actually explore my adopted city with no agenda.

The highlight was probably stumbling across a very exciting film set in the "deserted for the weekend' financial district. We watched them busily simulating rain by spraying the pavement with ferocious intent (something a squatting pit bull I'd seen earlier could have assisted them with no end), and we oohed in all the right places when a man in pyjamas came onto the set and began talking with other men about the crane above them. We tried to edge closer to see what was going on but were coughed at politely until we kept a safe distance...the mystery was building.

We lingered for as long as was Englishly polite before deciding to move along and continue on our hunt for the Gherkin (also deserted, Saturday's are not buzzing). We wandered past bus after bus sitting dormant waiting for the hungry extras to throng down the aisles in search of soup. We meandered through trucks of equipment and we had just made our way safely out the other end when curiosity got the better of us.

We just had to know what Hollywood, or better still Bollywood, film set we had discovered nestling in the deserted streets. We had to quench that dry tickling thirst for knowledge, the knowledge of which Pitt or Jolie, which Clooney or Law, which Smith or Wesson would be treading the boards close by to the very place we were standing.

We plucked up the courage, we swallowed our desire to seem unimpressed, we found the nearest catering man. We asked...

"It's a Dutch advert for erectile dysfunction"

Everybody gets their 15 minutes somehow.

Santa needs Tena?

I guess one of the most memorable days was working with a particularly old Santa, with particularly old man requirements...

Working at the Grotto required a full 9 hour day on site without any real break to get a meal, relieve oneself or do anything besides laugh off harrassment from children and grandparents. During training, when inquiring what we should do if the toilet was desperately required we were instructed to depart from our all in one elf and snow suits and engage in full on snow graffitti of the worst kind...never, I repeat, never eat yellow snow behind the back of Santa's cabin.

The only trouble (and I use only as though this were a small problem), with this idea is that unless you are a gent with some kind of urinary release pipe, emanicpating oneself from 2 all in one suits and a lot of thermals is not the easiest thing to do. No one wants to be greeted by pissy the elf with the interesting stains and the funky steaming leg. Splash back is not acceptable in the toy making world. So us lady elves were faced with the conundrum of either shimmying out of as much of our clothing as possible and braving our lady gardens to a tidy minus 30 degree outside world or risking kidney infection by hanging on in there. Needless to say by the end of the month we were masters in pelvic floor exercises and thrush was rife.

Santa however, was having none of our English stoicism and dislike of frostbitten fananga. On a particularly busy day at the North Pole the tired old git decided that going to spell his name in the snow was a mission far more important than any other under the non-existent sun. As we prepared to greet the sleigh of children arriving, he slipped out from his post and disappeared around the side of his cabin.

"Er, Santa? Santa, you've kind of got children coming now."

Sleigh edges closer.

"Santa...are you about done? It's just that there's a little boy here to see you?"

Sleigh is approximately 30 feet from the cabin. 3 worried elves. 1 invisible Santa.

"Santa, please could you come back to the cabin? This is getting serious..."

no response. 3 elves looking worriedly at each other as to how to remedy the situation. 1 elf realising she must venture round the side of the grotto to fetch our wandering hero.

"Santa, could you put your knob away please I need to come and speak to you?"

1 lone elf heading into the unknown...

1 Santa reappears shaking off and zipping up.

3 elves feeling a little bit queasy.

For everything else there's mastercard?

So...Lapland happened!

So, I set up this blog with the intention of keeping all up to date with my exciting adventure in Lapland!

Lapland accidentally came and went and I was just having too much damn fun to sit at a computer for more than a few minutes. The time is here to rectify the situation and you will be regaled with tales from the freezer. Stay tuned for all the snow filled, reindeer riding, husky petting, elf antics you can handle.

Interestingly, I am now a city slicker working the big time in foggy London town so be prepared for my attempts to get my head around this 'being an adult' type thing. The highlight today so far has been getting my own business cards - this proves that not only am I important enough to own them, but that whoever ordered them fully expects people to want to know how to contact me afterwards. This poses a new issue for me whereby I now have to know what to say to these people who want to talk to me...ideas on the back of a postcard please.

I had no need for a business card as an elf, 'Peanut' (my felt suited alter ego) would just launch a snowball into the face of the nearest mewling child and be done with it. I believe this is frowned upon in the board room arena although I will be testing this method and keep you updated.

Aside from elfing and wearing a proper suit to a proper office Monday to Friday, I have also spent my weekend being the hostess with the mostess at the fantastic Man of Kent for the University of Kent Netball club. Twas a cracking night by all accounts, organised by the beautiful committee and won by the most eligible batchelor in Kentville. Other highlights recently have been performing at the new club, Chatback, in Canterbury which is an ace little gig I'd recommend to any comedian seeking a well organised room and a receptive audience.

Love and affection and all things shiny, blogging is fun.