A Midsummer Letch!

 A few days back I thought that I would pop for a breather among the grass and trees. Just soak in a bit of peace among the chaos of moving house. I was looking forward to listening to the birds (the feathered kind by the way) in the sunshine. Could I do that? No. Enter Mr Letch. ‘’Hello darling. Hello? Hello? Are you here to see me?’’, Letchy repeated over and over. I nearly left the little park, but then I thought, no, why should I? I opened my mouth and asked him to leave me alone. I do get absolutely sick of letchy men! And before some of you say, ‘not every man’, of course not every man but in normal pre pandemic times, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t endured, letchy harassment and my female identifying friends say the same. I cannot remember a time that I haven’t experienced anxiety while walking home after dark, wherever I was living at the time. We, as women, were and are preconditioned to almost accept that we are not safe walking around alone, from being young girls and teenagers. I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t hold their keys in their knuckles while walking home in the evening. Even at 4pm in winter! We are over half of the population, and yet this has and is allowed to continue.

I have been kerb crawled, followed, surrounded by groups of men while walking to my bus stop at 5pm, had my boobs grabbed by randoms who just think that it is their right. I have been sexually assaulted by someone in a position of power when I was 20. I have even been beaten up and left with a broken nose because I wasn’t interested in accepting a man’s advances. A man who I would find sitting on my bed in the shared house that I was living in at the time. A man who would just walk into my room, a man who would not stop trying to touch me wherever in the house we happened to be. The latter did go to court, and I found out from someone else that a colleague of his had ripped this man’s beard off because they were sick of his lecherous ways towards their female colleagues. I have to admit to being slightly pleased about that news. Violence isn’t right, but this man had been getting away with horrendous behaviour for too long. I was 22.  And this is just a short list of what I have experienced. Anyway, I digress. Why was this allowed to happen in the first place? Why are we as a society allowing this to continue?

So there you have it. A serious blog from me this time. Hope you won’t bee too disappointed that I haven’t written in my usual tongue in cheek style!  Right, I am off to get some quotes from removal companies, and yes, I am still surrounded by boxes. How is it that two women without children, have so much stuff?!

Until next time,

A Real Northern Hermia x

Hectic Fever Diva!

 
Well we are still unsure as to where and when we are moving to, and I can confirm that the grass definitely isn’t greener in ‘limbo land’!

Oh, by the way, I am no longer ‘’just’’ an actor, presenter and voice-over artist, but I am a hair colourist too. Ha ha. I have wanted a balayage for a long time and spoke to my hairdresser about it. I booked a date to have my new headshots taken (more about that in a bit), but my hairdresser is now away for a while, so I took a deep breath and taking matters into my own hands, within a few hours, I had transformed my hair. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but after researching, I think that I managed to ‘paint’ (this is how the technique is described) my hair quite well. I’ll pop a photo lower down.

Have you watched the Davina McCall documentary called Sex, Myths and the Menopause? It’s about time that women’s health was thrust into the spotlight. I don’t know about you, but I know of so many people who have suffered after being brushed off by doctors, told that they have to go private if they want to be referred to a specialist clinic (you do NOT ..It even says this under the NICE guidelines, along with not giving out anti-depressants to treat peri and menopause symptoms as a first resort). I’ve always said that if these side effects were experienced by cis-gendered men, there would be a cure at every petrol station! I’m not at that point yet, but I always keep an eye on such things as friends are struggling and also, forewarned is forearmed as they say. However, I feel like my hormones have always ruled my life (and have been fobbed off and told it’s ‘women’s problems’, growing up). This leads me on to hectic fever diva!

As I was saying before, I booked to have my new set of actor headshots taken next week. The reason for it being next week is because this should be before we need to pack and move house, and also it should have been the week or so after my period. However, I am already a week late (before you ask, there hasn’t been an immaculate pregnancy), and last week, I was so exhausted, sickly and dizzy. Hormones are now causing hectic fever (hot and cold), hot flushes, and I am very emotional (I’d probably cry at a walkers’s crisps ad right now), cranky and worn out. Once it starts, my skin goes grey, acne thinks it’s my best mate, and my hair tends to look like it belongs on one of those long sticks at the fair (no, cheeky, not a scarecrow. Then again, maybe I could be the new Worzel Gummidge…). Still, at least I know what my new ‘casting type’ will be! Now where are all those roles for a tired, cranky, emotional, irrational, candy floss woman? Hit me up!

That’s it for now!

Love,

A Real Northern Hermia x

P.S Here is a photo of my balayage.

Hustle Bustle, Duracell Bunny!

'Every day I'm hustling.. (insert music) ' Yes, this is me, the Duracell Bunny, a nickname given to me by one of my best friends because, in more normal times, I run around doing a million and one things, attending countless events on top of work, while making time for friends and family. Last week I had the taste of my ‘’old life’’ back again. A crazily busy week and it was brilliant. Albeit tiring! Usually I can cope with the hustle, bustle and the juggling. Last week by Saturday, I felt like one of the zombies in Shaun of the Dead. I think it’s the trying to move house which tipped my balance. We’d seen 6 places on the Wednesday and on the Saturday, we saw another three, then I had to go to the chemist and then we’d arranged to see some friends. I felt like I was falling asleep in my seat. Our friends are not boring, may I add, but I guess that this pandemic has sucked some of my Duracell energy out of me. I need to become a rechargeable pack!  BUT that must be the light flickering at the end of the tunnel now. Surely?! I can hear it saying..well, it's more of a whisper but it's definitely there, ‘come on, we can do it..we are almost there’!

It’s midweek. And not just any old Wednesday, today has started off very interesting…in most jobs, if you got asked to engage people while making dinosaur noises, you’d probably laugh and think it was a joke.. Ha ha. But an actor says, ‘Oh yes, sounds great. Where, when and how much is the budget?’
Hashtag An actor’s life!

Have a good week!

Love,

A Real Northern Hermia! x

A Real Northern Hermia, Keeping up the Spunkiness!

Well here we are, my first ever blog! I'm not sure if this will work out, but I thought someone somewhere may be interested in hearing about a real Hermia..yes, I do mean from A Midsummer Night's Dream.. Myself and a friend who is also petite and the same height as myself, have always used the slogan for our work..'though she be but little she is fierce'..so this is me, a Northern woman living in the North West, juggling various jobs, responsibilties and trying to push her career forward, while keeping up with her spunkiness. 

Recently I heard of a callout for stories about being abused by someone in a position of power, in my industry..I wrestled with this..I was 20 when someone took advantage of me, and though I had told some people over the years, and spoke about it publically when the #metoo movement kicked off, I hadn't fully revisited that ''event'' since. By revisited, I mean every single detail, the day, the time, and exactly what he did, the fact he encroached on my work two days later, coming into a room, via the only exit out of that room, and begging me not to tell the police. It took me two weeks to prepare myself, and though I had, by this time, missed the deadline, I emailed every single detail over to the organisation. I felt fine and ready to do this, but afterwards, I was sort of floating, a bit like an outer body experience? I was chuffed that I had done it, but I felt..I don't know..weird...not like myself. I guess, I could prepare myself as much as I wanted, but that writing each little detail out wasn't as ''easy'' as telling what the short version had become. That version had 20 years to get used to itself. But it's done, I offered to voice my own ''story'' too, and I have allowed myself to be proud of me. 

Love,

a Real Northern Hermia