Once again I find myself gainfully employed at a glamourous twice-yearly event that as it is ongoing at the time of writing discretion will allow me to identify only as having something to do with clothes.

I am working on the tills. This is not as glamorous as it may sound but I have the pleasure of working alongside Emily, a lovely actress who, despite doing very well professionally at the mo, still comes back to this event year on year. She conducts herself with a constant smile and winning disposition and only occasionally flinches when someone inexplicably mispronounces the name of a major, internationally well-known fashion magazine which is also a girl's name, which we sell.

Emily is taking advantage of a little downtime by looking over the script for a major high profile audition she has coming up. If she gets the part she will remember me for being wilfully destructive to her preparation process by alleviating my own semi-boredom by singing at her spontaneously or by uncontrollably blurting out the completing word or phrase to a previously internal progression of thoughts.

"Dixie Chicks!" For example.
Or "It WAS Blind Willie McTell by Bob Dylan, I knew it!" The latter in reference to a song that was playing thirteen minutes earlier.

Or most recently, "Emily, EMILY! Look at those words on the wall over there. Let's say them with wrong pronunciations and see whose is funniest." This worked quite well at first but was then ruined by her average-at-best attempt to re-pronounce Sunglass Hut as 'Sung-lass Hut'. The game ended soon after. Mildly frustrating, but not as frustrating as the time we lost Garry Jenkins.

Sometimes on jobs of this type I will suggest we play 'let's name all fifty states' largely because I know I can, or can before I inevitably become stalled at 48, forgetting as I do each time Montana and Vermont.

Emily is occasionally relieved for a break - and mightily relieved I imagine - by Luke who is an electric ball of delight and reminds me I should smile more. Luke has instigated the game 'let's guess what's in the free Lavazza goodie bag'. Upon quickly and mutually agreeing the answer is probably coffee I return to my scribbling.

Luke, not to be deterred, starts a discussion about eating habits and we both agree on 'everything in moderation' and that before too long we will discover that moderation causes serious heart disease. We then compile a mutually agreed upon list of most-annoying-phrases, the winners of which are:

I love food. (Everyone does)
I love people watching (Everyone does).

These are phrases that make one sound profound whilst abdicating a responsibility for actually being so. Our final winner is 'Can I get?' which is just grammatically poor and must be stamped out.

Other highlights of my day include making a list that on one side has 'Dixie Chicks' (see earlier) and Shania Twain and on the other 'Cheryl Crowe' and 'The Corrs'. I abandon this and move onto a list entitled 'List of things I really have no right spending any time making a list about'. I get as far as writing 'Cheryl Cole' before ditching that project.

These twice-yearly gigs are fun. As I am marrying the most beautiful woman in the world the thousands of women parading around has no appeal but seeing the familiar faces of actors I've known for over a decade has. Catching up on life, celebrating each other's recent successes and getting a general sense that we are all truly in the same boat is lovely and encouraging.

Another rather fun factor is that as we are in possession of staff badges we obviously are allowed priority barrier exit privileges and often we leave right in front of some fashionista journalist presenting a to-camera piece about all the glamour inside and are caught on camera. Therefore I practise my best knowing 'Yes, I'm from in there' look, which I hope is reminiscent of those you see when a news broadcast is taking place in front of BBC TV Centre or the cabinet office and the IT guy leaves to go to Boots.

I am thwarted in my attempt to make Emily jump by proclaiming 'bacon' in a surprisingly loud voice so I am off to find a free coffee.

I sometimes make money out of artistic endeavours. 

I remember fondly the first paycheque I received from acting (some may have written "acting" including one reviewer but I stick by the former). It wasn't that long ago, 14 years, but it was pretty momentous. I nearly framed it and kept it but it was worth actual money. And it was made all the sweeter for being remuneration for a Doctor Who audio story produced by Big Finish and directed by my lovely mate Gary Russell. Having been a gigantic fan of classic Doctor Who - i.e. before girls really got involved - this was a dream come true.

I mildly digress and run the risk of this becoming a blog solely revolving around a Time Lord so I shall keep the Who references to a minimum-ish, until they become the subject.

Like the overwhelming majority of actors (and serendipitously I like the overwhelming majority of actors) I find financial reward in other places.

And I'm OK with this. Now. These days.

As part of my new year's resolution stroke ongoing attempt to find more inner peace and happiness I am working strongly on the tenets of Eckhart Tolle and truly appreciating the power of now, of being in the present moment as much as possible.

A little over ten years ago I was working with Matt Donald in Harrods for a marvellous company demonstrating and selling magic tricks and toys. We later found ourselves working in [a major toy-store] after a misunderstanding with Harrods. That misunderstanding being that we initially thought that Harrods weren't twats, but later discovered they were twats.

[A major toy-store] however are lovely and the store induction definitely isn't excruciating. When the recent offer for ongoing-flexible-templike work came in I had to really think about whether or not I wanted to work there again. Nothing to do with the job, simply that didn't it feel like a failure, a stagnation? The same thing I was doing ten years ago... But I decided to breathe, be in the present moment and see what happened. And of course it's a lot of fun, being retrained on magic tricks involving illuminating thumbs and expertly palming balls is nothing but a joy, and a skill to be mastered and most likely utilised in my performance life.

Ten years ago my motivation for working there was to earn enough money to be able to afford three bottles of wine for a fiver (no matter when you read this these events weren't long enough ago for that wine to be anything other than of appalling quality) so Matt Donald and I could enjoy an evening watching The X-Files or 24 until we basically had to get up for work the next day.

Today, other than helping with the exigencies of paying rent, it's an opening into a whole new world. I get to delight Oli and Dora with thumbs that light up and disappear into their heads, as well as teach them the secrets. This is early days of course. There may come a  time when I have repeated the same card trick several hundred times and they ask to me to really really consider whether or not I want to marry their mum...

It's a chance to perform, earn some money, be surrounded by the glorious unstoppable energy of children, and even bring a fresh smile to the face of the by now short-suffering parent who has seen all manner of flying driving lifting throwing drawing temptations on offer throughout the store.

Sometimes I do other things.

Sometimes I work for a lovely staffing agency at Excel, Earl's Court or Olympia. This can be extremely varied and fascinating. For several years I have enjoyed the same position at the London International Wine Fair - under the table - Ahhhh! Jokes.
It can also be, well, other.

It is definitely perplexing to be in charge of a roving microphone at a financial conference listening to a group of people who all look like people and who are ostensibly talking in English, I am ASSURED they are talking in English but it is literally in such a tedious, dense, esoteric argot that I literally hear people speak for hours in my own language and do not understand a single thing anyone has said all day. That can be somewhat boring and frustrating.

But not nearly as frustrating as the day we lost Garry Jenkins.

When I'm at these conferences or exhibitions now I practise being present and happy. Happy to be there and happy for whatever I'm doing. There are varying levels of enjoyment, of course. I may be a supervisor with autonomy working directly with organisers and not in any one position all day. I may be in the same place all day but working in an room full of interesting discussion topics. (I've learnt a lot, from things like why olive oil shouldn't be heated to the fact that most of the world's leading medical practitioners can't give a speech worth a fuck. They may have interesting things to say, it's just a shame that the way they say can often make those listening wish they had actually undergone a stroke, rather than just experiencing the symptoms).

Anyway, if I'm in a room at least I'm not on a stand (at quieter shows less action so more internal clock-watching). If I'm on a stand at least I'm not a salesperson on a stand. If I'm a salesperson on a stand then at least I'm not a cleaner (especially at the wine show).

Actually, if I'm a salesperson on a stand then I really do look forward to going home.

So I can do the cleaning. 

The resolve to resolve

It's time. You knew it was coming and finally the moment has arrived. It's new year and time to undertake some of those resolutions. So...
I've started a blog.
Why?
I'm not entirely sure.
Perhaps I feel with a sense of unjustified egotism that I am the sort of person who should write a blog. I've come across several that are marvellous and inspiring and others that are ... well by those standards everyone should be writing one. Including my dog.
Who is very clever by the way and probably will feature somewhat.
So, what exactly will it be about?
I don't know.
I certainly have things to write about. I'm an actor and writer and neither of those are boring professional choices. I have spent 12 of the last 18 months living essentially in a van taking various theatrical productions to audiences in a variety of countries. I will most likely relate a little about what it's like spending more waking hours together than any married couple with a group of people in a Mercedes Sprinter and how heightened and unreal that reality is. What the topics of conversation are when there are still 400km to go before the set needs to be unloaded in the snow in a town there's no Wikipedia entry for in preparation for an 8.30AM show. (Yes, AM).
Topics such as Breaking Bad versus Game of Thrones; musicals vs straight theatre; ducks vs humans.
No contest on two out of the previous three by the way.
I will also relay the story of how we lost Garry Jenkins and my subsequent equal elation and fury at his reappearance.
Another joy to behold recently was touring A Christmas Carol around Germany and looking on in amazement at the delight on the face of our New Yorker actress, Laurie, as she browsed in new-found delight each identical German Christmas Market. 
Is there gluhwein?
Is there bratwurst?
If the answer to both of those is yes, then you're at a German Christmas market. No deviation, no variation. Yet her eyes would shine with wonder each and every time she caught her first glimpse of the temporary wooden huts selling candles, leather bound books and Christmas decorations made in Eastern Europe.
It was also rather fun today taking a phone call from a long term tour manager asking, 'Pete, you remember when it was dark and the van was accidentally backed into a lamppost at 4mph causing the back window to explode? What town was that?'
The answer was Hannover.
I'm also getting married this year and this will probably be an appropriate outlet to let off steam about that life-changing given circumstance, this definitely won't get me in trouble so long as everyone remains anonymous. Including Helen.
In glorious addition I am becoming a step-father to two beautiful children, their teachings of me will probably inform elements of this.
My dog is a tri-colour Border Collie called Alba. She is in equal measure super-intelligent and completely bonkers.
She loves dancing. She gets that from her mother.  

I just accidentally called her a good boy. She looked at me weird.

For now, read, enjoy, comment if you have the time and inclination.

And have a Happy New Year.