Wandering with the Mind

This piece was published in the Autumn 2011 issue of Razz My Berries magazine.

In an ideal, altruistic, utopian world, there would be no harm in letting your imagination explore the deepest recesses of daydream. But in today’s pressured social landscape, escaping into your thoughts, even just for a second, is a sign of weakness. The act of daydreaming implies that you’re somewhere other than where you’re meant to be; you’ve lost focus; you’ve fallen out of sync.

Ergo- I’m going to use this space to escape, and really imagine the kind of world that allows people to lose themselves in thought. Just for these brief words will I think about a society which values the benefits of the daydream to the individual.

Far from being a failure of mental discipline, daydreaming is a healthy way to explore long-term plans, dreams and goals that a pragmatist would never consider. Those in the know classify daydreaming as a lapse into ‘task-unrelated thoughts’, which sounds like a strangely paradoxical way of categorising the uncategorisable.

A recent article in the New York Times had a lot to say on this topic. It made the very interesting point that we live by the mantra: ‘I think, therefore I am’; we should know what is going on in our own minds. But when you think about it, hell, you might even daydream about it, then you’d have to admit that daydreams are evidence that we cannot control the seemingly meaningless meanderings of our brains. Daydreams are our mind’s way of telling us that we don’t know everything; we need a little subconscious to point us in the right direction.

So why is daydreaming so fundamental, particularly in our modern, busy lives? Well, believe it or not, I would say that it helps us to put things in perspective. When we daydream, our minds never drift off into the sensational Hollywood dramas that seem to come alive at night. What they do is give us a space within which we can consider the potential consequences of potential actions. It’s a healthy space, a ‘trial run’, if you like.

In many facets of life, we are told that we should only entertain the tangible and the pragmatic, we don’t trust what we cannot see for ourselves. Daydreaming contradicts this. A recent study found that above a certain point, money, ambition and status cannot provide happiness, so we must ask: what can? Is the answer to that which is one of life’s great conundrums actually calm, vision and hope? Is daydreaming the portal through which we gain a sense of who we are and what we could become?

Perhaps- at least, given the perpetually increasing stress levels of the population, we should probably give it a go. As much as daydreaming is a subject of derision for many, it could be, even if only symptomatically, what our individual bodies and social body are craving. When we consider it at the most basic level, not allowing your mind the opportunity to slip into daydream is a sign of over-activity. Time is a precious commodity, but what doesn’t seem immediately obvious to many is that time is precious whether it’s being filled or not.

I am a victim, as I’m sure are many, of the feeling that empty time is time wasted. In fact, I still struggle with the concept of doing ‘nothing’. But nothing is never nothing; nothing is the space which your mind needs in order to sit back and, ironically, to capitalise on who you are. After all, each and every one of us is more than an employee. The daydream allows the story of our lives to unfurl in ways which don’t tend to happen when we’re consciously thinking about what we’re ‘supposed’ to be doing.

So next time you’re feeling half-baked and frazzled from work and sleep deprivation, don’t be afraid to take time out to think. Chances are your mind will wander, daydreams will form, and light will be shed on the problems that seem unfathomable in the conscious bubble of daily life.

Review: Tartuffe at the Northcott Theatre, Exeter

Roger McGough’s adaptation of Molière’s Tartuffe

Exeter’s Northcott Theatre, Tuesday 11^th- Saturday 15^th October 2011

IT takes a lot to make a 300-strong audience roar with laughter at virtually every line, but that was the feat accomplished by the English Touring Theatre’s production of Tartuffe, which has been adapted by Roger McGough and shows this week at Exeter’s Northcott Theatre. The premise of Molière’s play is wonderfully simple: An imposter, Tartuffe, worms his way into an aristocratic French family, beguiling the grandmother and her son. The others, however, are not fooled, and the ensuing action encompasses their calamitous struggle to expose Tartuffe’s trickery.

The performance, in a word, is hilarious. One only wishes that the review could rhyme too. The English Touring Theatre’s actors clearly revel in their roles. McGough’s adaptation of Molière’s classic is composed entirely in rhyming couplets, apart from Tartuffe’s lines, which imbue the play with a drama that is at once flamboyant and fluid. The raucous rhyming script pushes the action along at an energetic pace, with the cast teasing every nuance from McGough’s lines. Annabelle Dowler, who plays interfering housekeeper Dorine, puts in what can only be described as a stonking effort, behaving as a go-between and mediator between the rival sides of the family.

But that’s not to say that the play’s 17^th century origins are lost. Just when the characters seem in period, in swoops a quip that brings it bang up to date: as Elmir tricks Tartuffe into ravishing her in a bid to prove his deceit, she begs “I’m lying on my back/ like an open sandwich, a savory snack.” Moments like these are frequent and side-splitting, a roaring audience doing justice to McGough’s flair for encapsulating the sardonic. Cleante, another Dorine-like character with a penchant for delivering pitch-perfect comic wisdom, played by Simon Coates, times his lines beautifully: “What is it about this interloper/ That goads you into faux pas after faux pas?”

Much of the performance’s humour comes from Moliere’s cynicism of religious institutions, a viciously funny current which landed the writer in more than a little hot water during his career. Despite being a favourite of Louis XIV, Molière was often critical of authority, weaving his skepticism through the words of his work. Tartuffe justifies his abhorrent actions with lines such as “I do it purely for heaven and the good of my neighbour”, ironically juxtaposed against his adulterous pursuit of the voluptuous Elmir.

For a play that caused uproar when it was first published, the union of Molière and McGough in Tartuffe now seems wonderfully relevant. There isn’t a review in the world that could do justice to this sparkling play- perhaps a mark of only the very best productions.

This review was published in Exeposé on Monday 24th October 2011.

A foodie favourite: Mini Magoo's Granola

For many, of whom I am one, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. We feel lost without it, bereft of our deserved morning bowlful. To this end, when I discover a new item of breakfast paraphernalia, it yields my full attention.

It was on a Saturday at Borough Market that I discovered the latest wonder-food which warrants a mention. It is granola, yes, but not as you know it.

Former make-up artist Maria Luigi set up her very own cottage industry a few years ago. Mini Magoo’s (named after an ex-boyfriend’s pet name, no less!) makes muesli, granola and porridge, but it’s the granola that I’ve really fallen for. It comes in four flavours; ginger, orange, cherries and blueberries, and all are crunchy, tasty and full of wholesome, scrumptiously satiating goodness.

All of Mini Magoo’s products are 100% organic and handmade, and Maria has kept the business relatively small to avoid losing the integrity that she presently has with her small selection of buyers. The granola flavours are pitch-perfect, and incredibly versatile without being encumbered by the blandness that sometimes leaves supermarket granolas bereft. Mini Magoo’s Ginger granola with a dollop of yoghurt has to be one of the best ways to start a day, whilst the orange flavour keeps me in concentration mode between meals.

At £5.50 for a 400g bag, it’s not the cheapest of breakfast items, but if you can’t give yourself a lift in the morning, when can you? Something tells me that Mini Magoo’s granola won’t stay my breakfasting and snacking secret for long.

Mini Magoo’s, available from Borough Market on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Granola, all flavours, £5.50 for 400g. www.minimagoo.com.

Review: Richard III at the Old Vic

I never thought I’d see Kevin Spacey in the flesh, let alone with a cushion up the back of his shirt and a party blower in his mouth. But then I also wouldn’t have said that I’d be watching him perform the final London showing of Richard III at the Old Vic on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Last Sunday, both of those assumptions were blown from the proverbial water.

It quickly became obvious that this was going to be a spectacular, stellar production. Directed by Sam Mendes, Spacey and the rest of the cast keep the audience in thralls throughout. Richard is gnarled, bitter and angry, with a warped sense of humour. His psychopathic, relentless murdering spree is interpreted, in my mind, to absolute perfection; the Duke’s asides are vicious quips, and Richard’s madness is amplified by a sustained and disconcerting bent. If there was any doubt about the calibre of this production, then they were assuredly allayed during Richard’s early scene with Lady Anne, played by Annabel Scholey, which takes place around her husband’s dead body. Spacey is disgustingly brilliant, and grotesque in the extreme. Richard can be anything to anyone, and it would take an actor of Spacey’s versatility to fulfill the role to the dizzying standard it deserves.

Kevin Spacey as Richard III

The modern costumes, as in many contemporary adaptations of Shakespeare’s plays, contribute something refreshing and put the actors at ease. There’s a aura of cool- ironic really, given the inevitable sense of foreboding. The clothes don’t wear the characters, but they definitely contribute to our understanding of them. Richard’s mechanical leg brace is rigid- a bold step and a sign that this is a production that is intent on getting the tone just right.

The staging really is second to none, and particularly resonates when Richard’s victims return in his dreams the night before the Battle of Bosworth. The Last Supper-esque staging sees Richard and Henry, Earl of Richmond, at each end of a table, with Richard’s victims, including Rivers and Buckingham, sat along one side. Each gives their animated, impassioned speech, building to a crescendo of wild torment for Richard as his eventual assailant sleeps peacefully at the other end of the table. Such vivid, clear arrangements as these punctuate the performance, leaving the audience in no doubt as to the proceedings. This is an accessible play, made all the more so by the unrivalled direction of Mendes and the sheer durability of Spacey’s character.

In an interview with Mendes and Spacey entitled “Exploring the dark side”, Spacey comments that “Richard is an incredible character because he does all the things he sets out to do and says he will, and is so delighted with the outcome that he constantly ups the ante”. To play such a character requires the actor to “go to places you generally don’t want to go, examine all the things in your own life that you regret [and] unearth all the shit”. Indeed, Richard speaks directly to his audience for the duration of the play, creating a co-conspiratory dynamic whereby the viewer feels a part of his actions. Richard is the Shakespearian opposite of Hamlet, the meek prevaricator, who never can quite do the deed.

But for such a dark and challenging character, Richard sure provides a whole lot of laughs. I can’t think of a villain who excites as much sympathy and as many smiles. His dark, deep humour presents a satire is so unbelievable, that we begin to believe it. The Duke’s twisted sentiments are so tyrannical that they defy the audience to follow along, and yet we do. And, I suspect, this has much to do with the astonishingly brilliant brutality of Spacey’s performance than anything else.


As the play came to its end, glittering in rapturous applause, Kevin Spacey addressed his audience as himself. There was a minute’s silence for those lost in the tragedies that occurred on 9/11, and a unified audience were reminded that coming together as a community, theatrical or otherwise, is the only way that we’re going to “beat those fuckers”.

Know your place, Realise your worth: Playing the Internship Game

Internships aren't about being paid, they're about ascertaining the point at which you are adding value.

I'm a student, and in my spare time and university holidays I do paid work, and I do unpaid work. In my paid work, I work as a freelance copywriter, completing projects for national clients which involve thorough research and writing copy on commission. I obtained this work because I was approached by a written communications firm. They believed I was an asset to their team, so they pay me to keep me writing for them.

My unpaid work is entirely different, and I do so much of it because it is of benefit to me. Anyone who has trawled through a weekend of writing internship covering letters will tell you that the reason they are doing it is because it's the only way to get into the industry, and to learn about that industry- ie. they're doing it for themselves. Companies won't approach you if they don't need you- in fact, the opposite is true- you approach them because you need them.

How anyone could expect a company to pay for an intern they don't need is beyond me. You may find yourself doing an array of both menial and meaningful tasks. Meaningful to you, that is. Rest assured, there will be an existing, paid employee inside the company who could do the task more effectively and efficiently. But if you want to have a bash for free, then go for it. It's how you learn. But don't expect to be paid. They'll pay you when you contribute what others can't.

The reason that unpaid internships are so oft-criticised is because they favour those who can easily afford to work for free. They favour the middle class young people whose parents can pay their rent and whose relatives are in high places. This is true. It is also a battle not worth fighting, as parents will always do their best to boost their child's chances, legal obstruction or no legal obstruction. What we can do is see this apparent barrier as a benefit to the privileged and not a blockade to the masses. If you really want it, then you'll find the money. At the moment, I'm living in the room of a friend who has a student flat in the area, although if I didn't have her generosity, I would have the income from my paid work to supplement my living costs. Is it easy when things aren't handed to you on a plate? No. Will you ever usurp the reigning classes from the pungent draw of nepotism? No. Is it impossible to better your prospects when your parents aren't bailing you out? No.

All of the interns I have come across this summer are in a position they fought for, and most work weekends and evenings to get by. It's that age old mantra: where's there's a will, there's a way.

The intrinsic blessing of the unpaid internship is that it puts you in an ideal position to add value, to show your worth, to make yourself essential. If the work that you do is of value you will become indispensable, and that's when you'll deserve to be paid, which is why I live by the saying "Know your place, but realise your worth". Internships wouldn't exist if they weren't of benefit to the person doing them. If you're looking for someone to blame, then blame the person trying to better their chances of finding work. Chances are they'll tell you where to go.

Review: 'Glamour of the Gods' at the National Portrait Gallery

Marilyn Monroe

Clark Gable and Joan Crawford

An usually sunny evening last week saw me visit the National Portrait Gallery to see their current ‘Glamour of the Gods’ exhibition. On Thursday and Friday evenings, the gallery is open until 9pm as part of their ‘Late Shift’ concept. After arriving early, we had the chance to look round the BP portrait prize show, which contained work by some seriously talented artists and portraits which were slightly less engrossing. Nevertheless, a great start to a perusal of the main event, for me at least.

‘Glamour of the Gods’ is a surprisingly small exhibition, but one that does its job perfectly. The portraits present a beautiful and lingering impression of some of Hollywood’s most illuminating stars from the 1920s to the 1960s. The women and men in the predominantly black and white showcase have become icons not just of the screen but in the worlds of fashion, beauty and art.

We are the privileged viewers of a portrait of Mary Pickford which was later published in US Vogue in 1920. Clark Gable and Joan Crawford’s chemistry dazzles, bouncing around the eggshell blue walls of the exhibition room. Vivien Leigh oozes the poise which is decidedly un-Blanche. It’s all here, and both lovers of cinema and filmic amateurs will appreciate what the pictures represent.

The blurbs that sit beside the images offer a more rounded, telling story. They convey the youth of the actors and actresses and the pressures that they faced in the roles that defined them.

What shone through to me though was the pointed synthesis between sex and vulnerability- the fear and the longing in the eyes of the female actresses. My only criticism of this exhibition is in its title. This isn’t about glamour, but about sex. And no portrait demonstrates that better than Ernest Bachrach’s image of Marilyn Monroe. Captured whilst filming Clash by Night in 1952, Monroe couldn’t appear less glamourous or more coquettish.

Haider Ackermann

This blog is a topical concoction of sorts. Sporadically written during university holidays when I'm working for free and more regularly kept up when I'm in my studying routine, I can only say that this post is one of those "now that I've thought it, and thought about it, I have to say it right now" type of pieces. So here goes...

Haider Ackermann. AW11. Wow... great shapes, fluid drapery, luxe fabrics and daring, daring cut-outs all meant that this collection made one of the big, if not the biggest, impacts of the season. I think the pictures probably say it all, but I just wanted to post this to remind myself and others that it's not only the household-name designers that get it spectacularly right. Independent Belgian brands have a lot to say as well, and I for one will be listening forthwith.