I have the internet.

OH MY GOD INTERNET.

I set it up all by myself and everything.

*beams*

INTERNET!

So today I was co-hosting, in my official role on the Classics Soc committee, a tour of Roman (and rainy) London. Took a hard-core group of freshers around to see the temple of Mithras (which was dug up, raised up onto a concrete platform a good 4 metres or so above Roman ground-level and the wrong way around in the middle of a building site and is now woefully under-signposted and poorly looked after - yes City of London I'm talking to you), then thanks to Julia we managed to persuade the curator of the Museum of London herself to not only take us on a tour of the Roman amphitheatre (in the basement of the Guildhall Art Gallery, oddly enough. If you're in the area it's worth a look, and it's only £1 entry) and around the surrounding remains but into a little locked-off bit of the Roman wall which is usually only open to the public once in a blue moon (right next door to a car park, in a poorly lit, terribly decorated, shabby little room which is woefully under-signposted and poorly looked after - noticing a pattern? City of London should not be left in charge of old stuff, they really shouldn't). Anyway, the curator was lovely and full of loads of facts about all things Roman, London and archaeology. Lovely day all round, but my legs are achey now.

Internet arrives in chez Fran on Friday. Can't. Wait.

I'm going to be sleeping rough(ish) for the ABC Trust this November. Yes, it is mildly insane*, but it's for a wonderful cause, so why don't you sponsor me? Go on. You know you want to.


I'm pretty much in training for it at the moment: the flat is freezing because we're determined not to turn the heating on! So I should be a pro at being cold by the time November 31st rolls around.

I'm definitely going to need a warmer sleeping bag. And possibly some thermal undies...

*you can blame Caroline for this; it's quite literally all her fault...

This week, I have mainly been cleaning. The new flat and the shambles of my former abode. The former is fabulous, the latter is ... clean. Ish. As clean as we'll get it without a bomb squad, several skips and a chemical cleaning team.

I love the new flat. It really is marvellous. Jenny will be joining us (briefly) for the first time tomorrow. Hope she likes it too. We have flowers and rugs and cushions AND a TV (with Freeview! Squeal!) because my parents very generously gave us their old one and paid for a license, which we never would have been able to afford otherwise. So life is good.

I have also been ushering at the King's Head and at the Scoop on the Southbank, which was good fun. Had a great time at the King's Head the other night: Paul McGann was in the audience, and I got to play cool knowedgable usher in the interval and chat to him. Just about managed to refrain from quoting Withnail and I (which pained me, as being at the bar it was a perfect opportunity for 'we want the finest wines...'). Or mention Doctor Who. Also, on the same evening a couple of the tutors from RADA were here to watch some old students of theirs, and they remembered me - even the one who'd never taught me! AND I got offered some proper paid work up in the box office for this weekend. Perfect timing, given that my bank balance is looking very, very sad. All in all, a very good night's work :D

Packing packing packing. Lots of stuff. Not enough boxes. Half my stuff is already at the new flat and still not enough boxes. New flat is smaller than current abode. WILL NOT HAVE SPACE TO LIVE. But it's OK, because I don't have enough boxes to put my over-abundance of stuff in anyway.

Yes, I've reached that half-way point in packing where you're starting to get bored and think 'hmmm, maybe I won't pack all of this random stuff in my wardrobe/on the floor/in my drawers because there is a chocolate teapot's chance in hell I might need it over the next day or so'.

I have thrown away all of the socks I own which are no longer fit for purpose. It hasn't left me with many.

Packing is so DULL.


Also, on an slightly different note, I can't wait to move into a place that isn't constantly full of guests. It feels like a hotel here at the moment, I swear. Charlotte had a friend staying in Richard's empty room for a month while she was on a course, then that friend left, Richard came back with twelve of his friends to stay overnight and catch a train to Belgium the other night, we've had a friend of Caro's staying on and off in the spare room so she's got somewhere to stay when she finishes her late shift at a bar, Jack's boyfriend's been living with us for the last three weeks, and last night Charlotte had four friends over. All of the above is fine, but there are days I want to stay in my pyjamas, be anti-social and not feel like I have to apologise to people I don't know or particularly care for (Jack's boyf and the girl in the spare room aside) who are drinking all the milk and using all the loo roll. Is that so unreasonable?

EDIT: oh my God, parents have decided to come over to move me out today. PACK LIKE THE WIND!

Last night was amazing. Went round to one of the RADA gang's for dinner ... at her Chelsea apartment. The place was like something out of a P.G. Wodehouse book. So much food, so much wine. Don't think my glass emptied all night. Was planning to catch the last tube home but ended up staying till much, much later. Payed for it this morning, though. Urgh.

Half-way through the course now. Can't believe how fast it's going! Have a lot of lines to learn for next week, though...

I'm a week into the RADA summer school. Completely exhausted but having the most amazing time. Much of the last week has been spent learning to walk and talk and breathe again, which, as ridiculous as it sounds, is not all that simple. I've had voice and speech classes (lots of sticking your tongue out and pulling funny faces, but my diction already seems to be improving...) and a couple of classes on sonnets. Also had my first stage combat classes - an hour pretending to punch and slap eachother and another hour learning to use a rapier and dagger. Brilliant. Definitely the highlight so far.

The group are all lovely; we've got a real mixture of backgrounds (ranging from professional down to avid amateurs) and nationalities (some Brits, a handful of Yanks, a couple of Spaniards, a Canadian and a Belgian) so there's a great group dynamic. And our director is fantastic; really lovely and slightly eccentric. He's got a back-to-basics approach which means that before we're even allowed to get up and do any kind of acting we've been learning to actually use the text and not fear the iamb. We're finally starting work on our monologues from Monday, which I've gone from being very nervous about to really looking forward to, and then we move onto dialogues scenes. Can't wait.

So, yeah. Exhausted and aching from carting the Complete Works of Shakespeare up to Goodge Street every day, but having a brilliant time. Never been happier about getting up at 7 every morning. Plus, I found Alan Rickman's name on the gold medal winner's board the other day and it really reminded me of exactly why I want to do this.