2012 in a Nutshell:
a year in the work-life of a self-employed actor/singer/teacher.
The gig with my laidback acoustic trio where a woman started begging for ‘Dancing Queen.’
(The same woman also mistook me for an Amy Winehouse tribute – despite the fact that we only do one Amy song).
The incident in work where I had to coach 5 year old Alfie through doing a poo. Who knew some children were scared of their own faeces? ‘Its peeping out of my bum, Kelly. Help me!’
The day we performed at the Whitby Dracula Festival. We turned up at a giant Pavillion with an audience of goths expecting something gory and sexy and we gave them our terribly quaint and prissy 1930’s radio show.
The excitement of being offered a main part in a new play about the Titanic.
The shame when I found out that part was actually ‘The Iceberg.’
The mortification on the first day of rehearsal when I realised I’d read the character list wrong and I wasn’t even playing ‘The Iceberg.’ Just a chimney sweep, a lift steward and a little girl ghost.
The last gig before our wedding where I sang to Nick, much to his horror. (And everyone else’s probably, but it had to he done).
The numerous gigs where I sang with no voice due to serious vocal strain earlier in the year. I sounded like Bonnie Tyler. But with worse pitching.
My brief dalliance with a vocal harmony girl group which coincided with the vocal strain. Singing live on air with no voice is no fun. Cue lots of crying and stressy hair-falling-out moments.
Writing lyrics for the radio in my 20 minute lunch break. Changing ‘we found love in a hopeless place’ to ‘she squeezed you out of a tiny place’ was probably my proudest moment. (It was a song for Mother’s Day…).
The wedding where the groom was clearly off his face on coke. (Not the sugary kind).
The gig in a country pub where they put us directly in front of the toilet. I had to keep moving my mic stand to let people pass and my eyes were stinging from the smell of pee.
At the same gig a 15 year old girl gave me a cartoon sketch she had drawn of me.
The various days where I had no idea how I was going to get through it all, and the one day where I didn’t. I was supposed to be singing live on the radio at 8.00am, driving to a village school 80 miles away by 9.00 am to deliver 4 hours of voice workshops (with no voice) to 40 teenagers, followed by a 90 minute drama workshop at the theatre back in town, and then a 3 set gig due to end at 1.30am. Not particularly different to any other Friday but this day a panic attack ensued. Cue me sitting cross-legged on the floor of a school car park with mascara and snot streaming down my face, breathing into a paper bag and having my back rubbed by a kindly unknown teacher.
Performing alongside some of the North East’s best musicians in ‘Sunday for Sammy’ at the City Hall.
Being hit by a hammer in the face during a performance of ‘Frankenstein’ at the Theatre Royal.
Getting a spontaneous round of applause for my orgasmic death screams in ‘Dracula’ at Alnwick Playhouse.
The excitement of playing our very first wedding fayre.
The disappointment when no one showed up.
Standing on a freezing cold film set for six hours in a school uniform for a Britains Got Talent advert (Didn’t quite live up to the promise that we were to be their house band).
A lovely one week run of ‘Losing Lottie.’
The not so lovely day during the run where they had to have a bucket at the side of the stage for me because I’d been throwing up all morning.
Singing to our lovely friends Abi and Damon during their wedding ceremony.
The impromptu gig in a tiny bar in Santorini with Nick on guitar and a French man on the bongos.
The garden party where we didn’t get to play our second set. The police had been called due to volume levels.
The gig where they called us ‘Kelly and the Machine.’
The gig where they called us ‘Kelly and the Banshees.’
The gig where they called us ‘Rosie and the Sensations.’
The trio gig where Nick’s guitar didn’t work.
The trio gig where we sang to a gang of Squaddies, they filmed us as a ‘favour’ but the resulting video had obscenities about what they’d like to do to me underscoring it.
The gig where a woman tried it on with Nick. And then me.
The gig where two women wouldn’t let me use the toilet cubicle unless I proved to them that I was the singer. By singing ‘Rockin’ Robin.’
Managing to get lots of little 5 year olds into their pig onesies ready for the Sage Summer Show.
Managing to get them all to the side of the stage on time with no toilet accidents and no crying.
Not managing to actually get them ON stage however.
The day I almost accidentally exposed The Santa Myth to a Year 9 student.
The New Years Eve countdown where I gave Nick only 10 seconds to take his guitar off, run across the stage, set up Auld Lang’s what’s it on the laptop, switch us off and switch that on. A room full of drunk people with arms linked and expectant faces is rather intimidating. To fill the awkward tumble weedy silence I found myself saying things like, ‘um…right, ok…make sure your circle is nice and neat. Are you stood next to who you want to be stood next to?’ Luckily, no one took this as a cue to wife swap.
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