The ultimate career insult

Back in February 2008 I auditioned for BBC's talent search for a Nancy for the West End revival of Oliver. I don't know how many thousands auditioned, but it was fucking freezing AND it was my Birthday. I got through to the second round which was a lovely Birthday present. Then I didn't get through to the third round. So it the loveliness didn't last long, but I had a lovely day etc.

Cut to December 2008...a woman who lives very nearby runs an agency that provides animals for film, TV, stage and photographic work. She and my Mum are friends (she was the one who used our cat for Aliens back in the 80s). She asked me if I wanted to help out with her business which is also a cattery. So I spent the morning cleaning out the cats that are staying there while their owners are on holiday. And feeding them. I don't know why, but every cat there was pretty fucking old. I reckon the owners have left them there to die.

After the cattery had been sorted out they asked me if I could exercise some of the dogs. So I had to take Bullseye for a walk. Bullseye is the gorgeous English Bull Terrier currently being used in the West End revival of Oliver. He's really strong and pulled my arms off when I took him for his 2 mile walk.

Now...the fact is, I had a lovely day. It's a fun job and I'm really glad I was asked to do it. But there is a small part of my brainbox that's telling me "you auditioned for Oliver and now look at you, you're walking the dog. The dog has made it into the show and you haven't". It's more funny than sad. But it is a BIT sad.

Here is a picture of an English Bull Terrier. Night y'all.

Salmon recipe for your din din party

So you have a dinner party coming up but no idea what to cook. Never fear, I have one recipe you can try. For 4 people you will need:

4 salmon fillets (boneless)
watercress, rocket and spinach leaves
charlotte potatoes
double cream
white wine
dill (fresh or dried)
salted butter
balsamic vinegar
pine nuts

Put the potatoes on to boil, 6 per guest.

Get a big sheet of tin foil and an oven, pre-heated to 200. Put the tin foil sheet on a baking tray and lay the salmon fillets on it. Put a small knob of butter on each fillet, then pour on a substantial amount of wine and cream. Sprinkle on the dill and wrap the lot up in the foil, then put in the oven. Check after 15 minutes every 5 minutes until the salmon is cooked all the way through.

Put a handful of the salad leaves on each plate, sprinkle on some pine nuts and splash some balsamic over the top.

Serve the salmon, using a spoon to put the cream-wine sauce over the fish. Add the potatoes and serve the lot to your hungry guests. Greedy little bitches.

Realising you've grown up

When I was at school I had the biggest crush on my best friend. I was so madly in love with him that I let him act in a not-very-best-friendly manner and never once complained. And by that I don't mean I let him sex me up and then treat me like shit in public, because when I was at school I looked like this:

No, he just used to take the piss out of me relentlessly, generally treat me a bit like a doormat....he must have liked me a bit because he laughed at all my brilliant jokes, but the way to a man's heart has never been via his sense of humour. It's via his sense of loving big tits and pretty faces. Neither of which I had back then. Or now actually.....oh fucking hell. Anyways, when we were 15 he got a girlfriend, a lovely mouthy chav with an IQ of 74 and a big pair of boobs. They went out for 5 years whereupon she cheated on him and he realised she was as about as much fun as a bag of cold sick.

When we were 15 I ended up having to endure an afternoon at his house with her there. I had a bra on that had removeable straps so you could wear it a number of different ways. Unfortunately whilst at his house one of the straps detached itself and sort of hung out of my top. No big deal, it wasn't like my boobs both fell out and nipples were everywhere, it was just the end of a bra strap poking out of my neckline. She saw it and went "oh my god! What is THAT!?". Instantly I was embarrassed. I went puce and was more mortified than I've ever been in my life. I shakily fidgeted with the strap until it was re-attached and she acted as though I'd been caught masturbating on the couch for the next hour until I finally left. The incident has left me with a sense of mortification for years (8 years!). Until yesterday. I was at work and my bra, a multiway bra similar to the one I was wearing in 2000, decided to release itself from one of the straps. The strap pinged out of my top and hung over the front. My colleague saw this happen and went "is that your bra strap?". I hurriedly re-attached it and nodded, devastated. She went back to typing and said "it's so annoying when that happens isn't it". Instantly I realised that I was a very different person to when I was 15 and that I'd grown up plenty.

And that is the story of how I learnt that it's OK to display a pinged-off bra strap once in a while.

It's Monday morning and I'm not working because that would be just plain silly. Not silly like the time last week I tried to make custard using only my own opinions, took egg, cream, milk and sugar and mixed it up in pan to create....very sweet scrambled egg (you can still eat it). Just silly like it would be silly to work on such a grey and dreary morning. I am ill. I have a head full of snot and a throat full of lumps. And I have so much to do! I'm off to Vienna tomorrow to visit some rellies and not only do I have to pack, I have to pack up some eBay shit and go to Crawley to buy Viennese uncle a DVD. I can't be bothered. I'm going to sit here sniffing until the very last moment.

I've never been to Vienna. It will be a very interesting experience I'm sure, but I'm faintly ashamed of the fact that I'm most looking forward to seeing what the shopping is like out there. I'm also intrigued as to why the Vienetta, a kitsch and pretty disgusting confection, is named after the city. Remember when the Vienetta made a simple family dinner special? And then do you remember the day you realised the Vienetta was actually quite horrible and that you were better off with Haagen Dazs?

Anyway, I don't have much to say, but when I return from my fact-finding quest (hopefully with a new outfit or two!) I will of course Blog it right up. Now...I'm off to take some ibuprofen and have another bash at making custard....

X Factor, me and mint tea

I write this Blog in a funny position. I'm sitting on my arse on my bed with my legs tucked under my chin, my hands reaching round my legs to the keyboard and the laptop on my feet (keeping them warm). It's really uncomfortable AND I need a wee, but I just can't be bothered to move.

I'm well into X Factor this year. Every year when the auditions come around I think "shall I? Nah...." (I auditioned for the first 3 series, to no avail), then when the live rounds start airing I think "Oh! Why didn't I audition!? That could be ME up there!". When of course that's exactly what the programme makers WANT me to think. They need a couple of average ones in the top 12 to make the average people at home identify with the show and go "I could do that. Me. I could. I'm a star. Louis Walsh practically said so". It would be worth getting to the judge's round just to hear Louis Walsh say, "Sooz, you remind me of a young Ralph McTell" or something.

I'm currently addicted to drinking Chinese green mint tea with lots of honey in it. These Chinese teas may or may not be doing me good, but I know one thing, they sure taste like grass clippings.

Work Hard, Blog Hard

Why is it that I never write this Blog unless I'm meant to be working at the offices in Forest Row? I think Rydon should know that if they're going to stick me on reception with nothing to do except put people who ring through to other people in the building, I WILL be Blogging my ruddy guts out.

Anyone sitting in the reception area will just hear me saying "Good morning Rydon...yes one moment please" every 15 seconds, they must think I'm some kind of idiot. I suppose in many ways I am.

Big Brother has just started again so that's something to keep me going for the rest of the day.

Oh yeah, and I'm not famous yet.