Showing posts with label halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label halloween. Show all posts


Footballs, Swedes and Copacabana dreams : PUG LIFE in London

Well, first things first, let's start with the most important news since the last blog. Ive fallen in love. True, deep L.O.V.E. With a friends fat (sorry big-boned)  pug called 'Miss Piggy'. Miss Piggy by name and definitely by nature, she seems to know no commands except for eat. Everything. Sadly my dreams of doggy fashion and matching pink outfits to a pink leash were left behind when on our recent outing she didn't fit in any of the doggy clothes in Primrose Hill Pet shop. But it just means there's just more to Miss Piggy to love, and she is further fueling my desire for my own little doggy one day. 

Since my last post I have been working non-stop jumping from job to job, which as a freelancer is ideal, for my bank balance is ideal but for sleep and holidays is definitely not ideal. My Ibiza holiday was replaced by the fact that I couldn't turn down a month of work, and my lack of summer holiday this year meant an unplanned trip to Stockholm this weekend just gone was long overdue, if not a bit silly with a shoot planned for the Monday. Attempting to board a packed plane at Heathrow on a Friday night whilst attempting to get a callsheet out is far from ideal. The only bright-side about embarking the plane whilst holding my laptop aloft sending emails meant that there was no danger of me leaving it in the airport chocolate shop this time. Every cloud hey....!

Sweden is beautiful, expensive and full of men in bow-ties. It boasts the tastiest restaurant food I've ever eaten, the most dubious named bars of chocolate ...('plopp' being my favorite), and bicycles with brakes on the pedals. Braking being something I was unable to master, stopping came in the form of a wall, a fence, or my own feet running along with the bike. Exhilarating yes, graceful, no. I had meatballs, Daim bars, reindeer heart (sorry Rudolf), Smörgåsbord, and *ahem* MacDonalds. 

Summer is officially over (oh hiiii grey clouds), and I saw it out by attending London's last festival of the year 'Found'. I'd like to say I saw it out in style, but if my inebriated-self at the end of the night was anything to go by, it definitely was not that. Yes there was a lot of glitter, yes it was a lot of fun, and yes I woke up at 5am in a friends room wondering if I would ever feel human again. A direct contradiction to the idea that the older you get, the wiser you are...

Last month I Produced my first documentary on a past Chelsea football player. Quite ironic as I had never even been to a football match before, and certainly something which the football agent we were working with could not seem to fathom. I don't think my constant reference to the 'shed-end' as the 'cow shed' helped my weight on the subject either. The documentary is due to be aired by the BBC later in the year.

Halloween is fast approaching which leaves one with the question of what to wear? Last year I dressed up as a Fortune Teller for 'Mulletover' and very surprisingly won their best dressed of the night. So no pressure this year then...!? My grand plans of a Cleopatra-esque costume have been quelled by the next three-week stint I have shooting 14 hour days out at Black Island Film Studio's and I'm thinking Walking-Zombie will probably be a much more realistic costume...

But I complain not, as all my recent work means that my dreams of Rio De Janeiro in 2015 are now a reality, and I once again will be escaping the cold winter blues and taking a break from work by heading to Brazil for a few months in February. I can't wait, I have dreamed of sipping Caipirinha's on Copacabana beach and dancing at Rio Carnival for years. I'm practicing my Shakira hips already, and working up a tolerance to rum. (I can already see my friends disbelief at this statement) (and in all honesty I don't believe it myself).

London's getting colder and I've bought my winter hat. Large, fluffy and white, I resemble a giant cotton wool bud, but it's oh so soft to touch. I've started getting my nails done as I feel it ads to ones professional demeanor. Well, anything has to help when weeks through a job you realize the laptop you take to work everyday has your 'life goals' open on a bright pink stickie note, and no.1) is to go raving in Berlin.

Growing-up is still something I'm struggling to master, but I'm having a pretty fun time figuring it out right now...

Emily x


Tattoos, Flights, Fat Cats, New Flats and a Hazardous 4 Bird Roast : the last three months...

It's been a while since my last blog post, and when I look to evaluate the past three months, yet again its flown by, and yet again a lot has happened...

In my last post the weather was sunny, my hair was blonde, and I was complaining about dry sandwiches at The Savoy. The weather is now windily pr-empting winter, my hair is dark, and The Savoy were kind enough to offer myself complimentary champagne and nibbles in the American Bar to make up for the dry sandwiches. Oh the power of a blog (thank you social media!).

Since then I've moved from South to East. First 'temporarily' into my boyfriends bedroom in Bethnal Green. Cue four weeks later, and the novelty of living out of bin bags (which was never really there to start with) had run very, very, dry. Now I don't know how many of you have ever searched for somewhere to live in London, but let me tell you, when your on a budget and don't want to sign a years lease it is hellish, and a rat race. We'd turn up to flat-viewings to be told they were already taken, in fact many a time we'd get a call en-route to the viewing to be told not to bother coming, it had gone.  And if the room is actually still available when one does turn up, you turn into some kind of puppet, desperately trying to interview successfully against your fifteen other competitors who are viewing that night : "No we don't smoke, drink, tidy is my middle name, and whats that you LOVE birdwatching....oh what a coincidence, me too!!"

After a month of viewings each evening (I joke not) we had no social life, a huge bill on the oyster travel cards, and a pretty good knack for grabbing reduced sandwiches en-route to each house. Our outlooks were bleak, our mealtimes were bleaker. And then out of nowhere, through sheer luck and persistence we found ourselves the perfect place. Our own flat in a Victorian house, split over two floors with our own garden, a smeg fridge and a temporary cat. Located in Dalston, with ten minutes walk to Broadway Market we could not be more happy. The cat, however, could be. Terribly grumpy, and awfully fat, Charlie only shows love when he wants food. And since his owner emailed concerned he might not be able to fit through the flap soon, limiting his food means he loves me even less now.

I love having my own place, my own space, and even my own garden. I feel awfully grown up. The only downside is when the chocolate digestives have gone in two days straight, and your partner says he hasn't touched one you have to own up the the fact that your 'flatmates' arent robbing them, and face the harsh reality it was all just you.

And even more perfect about the new flat - we have it up till the 10th January. And seen as I'm off to Los Angeles to live and work from the 6th January for three months - well it could not be more ideal. Yes, I booked my flights, and now my daydreams are full of sunshine, super-size diet sodas (yes I said soda - getting down with the lingo already), rollerblading in bikinis, and The Ellen Show. And of course, a bit of work in Hollywood thrown in here and there.

Work has been good to me in the last few months, and I've started working respected roles on commercials. And recently two Christmas Food Commercials, which can't help but put one (however early) in the mood for Christmas. The most harrowing part of the whole experience was when I tucked into a sample Four Bird Roast mid-pre production meeting and realized I had taken on half a toothpick. Or better put, it had taken me on. I saw my professional demeanor going down the drain before my eyes, not to mention my own life. Gluttony was never a good look.

Last week I got new ink at Frith Street Tattoo parlour. Words designed by my talented friend Cressida on my arm, LIVE/LOVE ( and the Cross of Lorraine on my finger in respect of my much loved french grandmother.

I've become obsessed with a fedora hat, as it hides a multitude of sins, whilst making one feel like their channeling a 2nd rate version of Kate Moss at Glastonbury. It has, however, become a challenge as of late with this windy weather, and I'm either debating sellotape, or just leaving at home. Probably just leave at home - I don't have time for eyeliner in the mornings, let alone sticking my hat to my hair.

Apart from those main points, I've floated around happily for the last months in haunts of London with friends and wine, seen my first Opera, found a love of olives, lost my third phone this year and fourth bankcard, and been to a premier of a film I worked on. It's been a while since the last blog post, but once L.A. rolls around in January I'm determined to be much more blog savvy and wow you all with epic tales of super-size portions and Brad Pitt sightings.

That's enough from me now, as I have a Halloween rave this weekend and have grand ideas of dressing as a giant Moth (think Silence of the Lambs). However, since last years Bat Outfit with an umbrella strapped to myself was a fiasco in the wind of Wellington, I've got to be more practical with this one. After all, dancing for hours with some giant wings spells disaster, not to mention the need for a lot of deodorant. I'll figure it out (...end up being a vampire).

Happy Halloween!

Emily x


A long 'winded' post from Wellington...


And here I am, packed up once more and moved with my two (yes now two) large suitcases of accumulative junk. Except for its not junk, its dearly loved clothing items, so dearly loved that I would rather break my back each time I move rather then part with any of them. My mass amount of clothes also meant that an internal flight would not take me so I ended up on the overnight bus from Auckland down to Wellington.

And this overnight bus happened to be after an overnight plane the night before from Melbourne back to Auckland. And this overnight plane happened to be after an all-nighter in Melbourne. And the all-nighter in Melbourne happened to be after a week of drinking with friends there. So all in all a rather tired and disheveled shell of my former self disembarked off the bus in Wellington. But in true style within 2 days I had found myself a place to live and a job. The flat is with two lovely girls, and stumbling distance from the citys bars and clubs, so all in all perfect! And the job, well... the jobs not permanent. At least thats what I keep reminding myself. Its an office job with the government, and as each day goes by I want to shoot yet another politician for changing some effin law that gives me more paperwork. But moneys money, and having it means I can still chase the real reason I came to Wellington...THE HOBBIT.

Now this ones a hard one to crack. And so far the shells not breaking. Every hairy man I see on the street I get a tiny bit excited thinking it could be Peter Jackson. And every short man I see I have to refrain from asking if they played a dwarf (and believe me there's no shortage of small men in this city!) So after an afternoon spent trying to flyer CV's to buildings in Peter Jackson's post-production empire and being told I was 'one in a thousand' by the woman behind the till in the gift shop I found myself on the bus home rather dejected with life. When the thought occurred to me...I can't get a job behind the camera, what about infront of it?

So I sent off a few emails and pictures to agents, stating I'd never done any acting before but was interested to get into it, and lo and behold one got back to me. She said she thought I could get work and advised 'when in Rome'...aka learn the Kiwi accent. Hate to say it but never going to happen. The Kiwi accent is a weird hybrid of Australian, Irish, English with 'bru' and 'ay' thrown in there a lot. I can barely distinguish it from any other accent, let alone speak it. A week down the track she emails me and has got me an audition. The casting director had seen my picture and wanted to audition me for the role of 'queen' in a Universal pictures remake of Jack and the Beanstalk. Directed by Bryan Singer (x-men, usual suspects) *gasp gasp breathe*.

That's all well and good but my acting career finished when I was about 14 at my local Arts Centre when the bald wig I had on to play a 'witch' in Roald Dahl's the witches flew off into the crowd. And I have never auditioned before, let alone learnt a script for an audition. Needless to say I'm 100% sure I have NOT scored the role...if not for the fact that I was so nervous I could not even smile for the camera without my top-lip quivering, the fact that the actress before and after me were both dressed like Princess Fiona from Shrek and there I was there on my lunch break in my office clothes. But it was an experience, and certainly rather flattering to even get considered. Now back to the day job....

Wellington is a beautiful city, so much character to it, and set around the harbor when its a lovely day you have gorgeous views. Notice I say 'when'. For Wellington is horrifically windy... and I mean horrifically...I'm actually debating buying an anti-aging face cream as this wind is getting beyond a joke. Saturday night for Halloween I decided to be a bat and strap two umbrellas to my back. What was going through my mind I do not know. I practically flew from bar to bar (and not in a good way).

But all in all a move made right I believe. I'm happy here, and really enjoying meeting new people and scratching the surface of what Wellingtons all about. I don't know why I once was ever scared to move somewhere on my own as it really is the most rewarding experience, and a way to grow as a person. Wellington, you've won my heart.

Emily x