Roses in December

I lost the first day of the brand new year nursing a hangover from Hades. (Created a new cocktail on New Year's Eve: Cosmospolitan martinis + Champagne = A Very Bad Idea) I am ashamed to say that I not only failed to make it -- across the road -- to church (and there were two services on the day), but made no attempt to no serious attempt to reflect upon the 12 months that have past.
(Oh, well, better late than never!)
It has struck me that this indicative of a larger pattern for me -- not the Cosmo-Champy hangover part -- but the seeming and literal lack of time to reflect and observe. This year, especially this past Autumn (Fall) has been a whirlwind of activity. I feel as if I have spent the past 12 months in perpetual motion. It is not surprising, of course, given my relentless quest to "make something happen" for myself here in the UK.
I wouldn't trade my little Warwickshire life, with my beloved DEB for anything! And, I really don't miss New York, or America at all. It is hard to describe what I do miss... 
(Warning: Shallow Alert) 
I miss the professional clout I had as a Professor at NYU. The respect and credos that went with the job. That utterly smarty-pants, bad-ass attitude that is bestowed upon NYU faculty as they walk through the Washington Square gate.  
The hours were long, the work demanding, the pay pathetic. I was alone and lonely. The students were great, but it wasn't enough. I would end each academic year feeling drained and morose. "There has to be more to life than this?" I found myself thinking again and again. So, I walked away. For a new life. Looking back, I could have done a better service to myself by making more of an effort to cultivate job prospects while I was on the other side of the Atlantic. But, you live and learn.
I hope and believe that 2012 will be my "phoenix year". That I will rise brilliantly from the ashes!
It has been that bad to tell the truth, I have landed on my feet, slowly but surely. It's just the "slowly" part I had not banked on. I suppose I allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security but the aforementioned 'smarty-pants, bad-ass attitude'. The world would be clambering at my door! Not so.
It has been a real struggle. I have had to learn and master the art of shameless self-promotion. (Not a natural state for me.) And, to accept routine rejection. I have had to be more creative about my career, and accept that my life is now a "portfolio" of gigs, and not a permanent post. I am the servant of many masters, now. That means juggling lots and lots of balls all the time. And that leaves very little time for reflection.
The past year, like most, has been one of highs and lows. 


New beginnings...

My lovely friend, Liz, with her dashing new husband, Noel

My friend, Liz, was married in October, and sweet, little church in Warwickshire. It was a blustery, but beautiful day. And the first English wedding I have attended as a married woman. (And, yes, it does make a difference!) I found a gorgeous hat from Next, that was quite the thing! It was such a delight to see Liz, who I have known off and on for years, but only recently have we gotten to know each other as friends. She is such a sweetheart, and her beloved is yet another darling English boy. 


And, endings...

Sheila Allen 

(22 October 1932 – 13 October 2011)

Sheila Allen was an incredibly gifted actress, and I am honoured to count her as a mentor and friend. Sheila was an early and ongoing champion of my work. She pushed me, and kept me focussed. At my book launch at the RSC in 2006, Sheila, Cicely Berry and my mother were the mighty triumvirate whose support had been indefatigable.
Sheila's funeral precisely the send off she deserved. Lord Melvyn Bragg gave a tearful and heartfelt reading from Shakespeare's Sonnets, and there was not a dry eye in the room. I wept like a baby throughout the service. And, have been so heartbroken at her passing that I have not been able to write about it, until now. 
Sheila was an amazing teacher, and she taught at BADA for over 20 years. She was delighted when I joined their ranks this past Autumn. In fact, less than a week before she died, Sheila and I had made a plan to meet for dinner. Due to other obligations, I requested we postpone. I'd give anything to re-live that choice now. (Maybe there's a lesson in that.)
I remember talking to Sheila in New York about leaving NYU, and coming to Britain. Life, she said, like acting, is about being brave and taking risks. After I made the leap, she wrote to congratulate me:

Dearest A., I’m glad you're back from the 'savage lands' of the USA! It's been a long sojourn and I'm sure filled with important, excellent things. Good for your Darling English Boy for winning you back for us! It may take time to adjust, but you belong with us!

Her words continue to inspire and strengthen me.
And so, the year ahead. There's something in the air, and signs all round like my vibrant pink rose bush is still blooming that give me the feeling that this is going to be a year of remarkable possibilities. And, a year of Love, and surprises, like the DEB arriving home on Christmas Eve with a dozen, long-stem red roses.  
For all my groggy grumbling, I am truly a lucky girl.


HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Empress's New Clothes

Here I am, back at long last. The past few weeks have been the most glorious, heartfelt, and overwhelming of my life. I have thought long and hard about the best way to share what has transpired, and what it has meant to me. I search for words, but can find only tears. Happy ones.

To say that our wedding day was joyous is true, but does not go far enough to capture the utter joy it was. To say that the day was magic/magical, is true, but still not enough to convey the sheer magical fantastic-ness of it.

To say that it was everything I had ever wished for, dreamt of, prayed for, and imagined would all be true, but still would not go far enough to express what I feel right now.

To be sure—confirmed perfectionist that I am—there are moments I wish I could rewind and re-do somewhat differently, (who doesn’t feel that way?) but overall our wedding day was as “perfect” as it needed to be.

And I am learning, slowly, that there is something in the imperfectness and unexpectedness of life/things/people/events that is utterly human and should be valued and regarded as precious in its own, and often mysterious, way.

(I can guarantee that the concept of “perfectness” will be a recurring theme from this point on, as I have already begun to ponder the idea of what it might mean to be a “perfect wife.”)

But, for now, back to “the day”…

More than anything I was aware in a remarkable and profound way of being utterly surrounded that day by love. There was one moment, amongst so, so many, that really stands out for me.

At the end of the service, the choir sang a choral blessing (John Rutter’s very lovely ‘The Lord Bless You and Keep You”), and I swear, it felt to me as if, in that moment, the D.E.B. and I were being washed over by a sea of love and blessing, surrounded and embraced by not only all of our beloved family and friends who were present, but also by the love and good spirits those have gone on ahead of us in eternity. Bliss.

Once my head is out of the clouds I will share all the wacky and wonderful practical details such as how, yes, I did go for an early morning swim at the gym the morning of the wedding(!); and which shoes I finally settled on in the end (!!!).

For now, I am savouring my favourite moments, and replaying the scenes that felt and were indeed like a fairy tale.

Our wonderful, talented, gifted, incredible wedding photographer, Elizabeth Harper, did an amazing job of capturing our special day. She sent me some sample shots to whet my appetite, along with a note saying that our wedding seemed to her to be like a scene from a Jane Austen novel/movie, and I have to say that is exactly how it felt for me too, as it all happened…

….The absolutely perfect, crystal clear and warm (!?!) weather. (Truly, there is no day like a perfect English, summer day.)

All the smiling faces that greeted me as I entered the church…

….My handsome, gorgeous D.E.B. smiling at me as I walked down the aisle.

The choir singing “our song” – Howard Goodall’s “Vicar of Dibley” theme tune (Psalm 23), that moment could have lasted forever and it wouldn’t have been long enough! Everyone was crying. Me, the D.E.B., the vicar, the choir, the world! The lead soprano got so choked up, her voice cracked a little at one point, which just made us all cry even more!...

…Saying our vows…my turn to have my voice crack…

Standing on the altar and singing “Jerusalem”, with the Barford W.I. standing and singing in the back rows...

Speaking of W.I.!!! As the D.E.B. and I exited the church the Barford W.I. formed a guard of honor for us to walk beneath. They saluted us with long wooden spoons adorned with garlands of flowers.   

...The Church bells ringing out joyously...

Magic.

The whole day was sheer magic. Such an incredible expression of love, family and community. (And that something you can’t plan, organize or manage on theknot.com!)

Our reception at the Granville was absolutely splendid! The D.E.B.’s brother, a.k.a. The Guru, was the best Best Man, ever. His speech was all in rhyme like a Shakespeare sonnet, and he even created a Quiz.

Yes, there was a written trivia quiz during the reception! How awesome is that?! No, I didn’t win, but that’s okay. J

And the evening dance party with fabulous, (I finally fulfilled my DJ-ing fantasies!) and we danced till the wee hours.

Everyone made sure that the D.E.B. and I felt feasted, feted, hallowed, honoured and celebrated. And I do feel that something tremendous has transpired, an incredible shift in my soul and psyche. I do feel that I have changed.

The title of this posting obviously refers to that old children’s story about the Emperor who doesn’t realize he was nude. He actively ignored reality, what was staring him straight in the face, and he lacks clarity and self-awareness.

By contrast, my fairy tale is all about embracing new life, starting again, and seeing things afresh. Shedding the “old clothes” of the past, and putting on the snazzy, new garments of the future!

It has been a remarkable journey, and the D.E.B. and I have come a long way both individually and collectively. The past was not very kind to either of us, and for all our blood, sweat and tears, neither of our paths were particularly smooth.

I think of the character, Paulina’s words at the end of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, after all the trials and hardships the lovers have all endured, finally to win their crowns of love and wedded bliss at the end of the play, she says: “You are precious winners all!”

Funnily enough, the D.E.B and I are very like the characters in The Winter’s Tale, who take 16 long years to get their relationships/lives together, in that it has taken me and the D.E.B. 13 years from the time we first met, to get from there to here.

What a journey it has been. We both had to kiss a few frogs before we found our Prince/Princess Charming, but the good news is that dreams do come true. We finally reached the happy ending.