Show off!

Last night, I found a new pass time. Showing off. Now, as anyone would tell you, I'm pretty good at this already, being the Diva that I am, but last night my behaviour was encouraged and applauded. I found my niche.

When I came over to London, one of the things I new I really wanted to do was find a piano bar where I could bring tunes a sing. I'd been researching, unsuccessfully for some time, and had almost given up, when a new colleague of mine introduced me to an actors notice board. And right there it was: Show Off Piano Bar. A bi-weekly night of musical theatre aficionados, strutting their stuff on the 'boards' of a central London pub. Anyone is welcome and there was am evening of it last night.

I grabbed one of my closest friends for some morale support, and heading into the City for a night a music. I had no idea what to expect, and when we arrived, I almost turned and ran, but my friend forced me to walk through the door. Underneath a little restaurant right behind the Leicester Square tube station, there is a tiny little bar. There was a smattering of people and a nice, upright piano right in front of the door. My friend and I went in, grabbed a bottle of wine and settled ourselves down at table in the corner, with a good view of the 'stage' as well as the exit. When the woman came round with the sign up sheet, I quickly scribbled my name and song choice down, imagining that it was like a band aid that needed to be ripped off...just get it done and then its done, right?

As we settled in with our wine and a bit of chat we were able to take in our surroundings and quickly realized that the room was swarming with really good looking men. My friend started to let her hopes get up before I reminded her where exactly we were and pointed out that despite our very substantial beauty, not a single one of them was looking our way, except to compliment me on my dress.

But then the music began. A lovely young woman in a long, sequined dress grabbed the microphone and sang 3 wonderful songs. She was very good, and I was happy that she was our host, and not one of my fellow open-mic-ers. She gave us a bit of witty banter, and then opened the floor to the singers of the evening. And what great singers they were! Not everyone was perfect, but everyone without exception, came ready to sing their hearts out. By the time it was my turn to get up on stage, I was almost jumping out of my seat to have a go. I had chosen to sing the song SHY, from Once Upon A Mattress. It went down a treat! The crowd was singing the chorus bits at the end, and I got so caught up in my little act that I grabbed a man's arm and spilt his glass of wine. But it didn't matter, I was back on stage and it felt amazing!

As my number finished, and I came back down to earth, the only thing I could think was: "I need to sing again!" So I quickly ran over to our hostess and signed up for a second song, The Alto's Lament.

When I my turn came around this next time, people were excited to hear me sing, and I'd made a few new friends and fans in the bar. I sang as if I were performing to a massive audience and by the time I was crawling on my knees at the end of the piece, the audience was in stitches. I got a rousing ovation and several people asked me to please come back next time. It was unreal.

I wasn't the best singer there, (though I was close) but I was reminded what a great performer I really am. I will definitely be showing off more often... there's another piano bar on Tuesdays I'll likely be trying out.

Guerrilla therapy

This week I was invited to a House Concert. I had no idea what to expect, but thought that I would go along, as I am always up for a new experience. What I got was an evening I won't soon forget.

We arrived at the venue, which was someones flat in a converted church, to a house full of strangers. We all new the organizers in some way but were from different parts of their lives. The upstairs of the flat was a loft room, with the old wood work from the church still in tact, and it had been set up like a little concert venue. There were 30 of us there and after a bit of small talk, the concert began.

Our entertainment for the evening was Francis Dunnery and Dorie Jackson. Now, I didn't know who they were, but I do now. The format was simple, a man and his guitar, telling stories and playing songs, with a lady to harmonize and support. But what fantastic musicians and story tellers they were. It was a bit like a vocal mask, with folk songs interspersed, and it took me back to my college days.

The story he told was of his life, and all the 'phases' or 'passages' he's gone through. From being a kid to being a rock star and then falling from grace. He talked about being 'Francis Dunnery the guitar player from It Bites' and then about how he wasn't that anymore, and didn't know where to turn. He keenly linked beautiful folk music with interesting stories to make for a great night.

So why guerrilla therapy? well, the 30 of us sat in that loft and shared a beautiful experience. Because it was such an intimate concert, Francis would talk directly to people, ask them questions about their lives and then offer words of wisdom on the subjects. He explained how we would all go through certain phases, and how we would come out wiser on the other side. We talked about lost parents, and mid life crisis and about running away. Each member of the audience found something to connect to, some moment in the concert that spoke directly to them.

Afterwards, we all talked about how we were pretty sure our hosts had hand-pick the people they felt would need this type of session the most. Maybe the people who wouldn't admit that there was something bothering them, or that they were going through some sort of crisis.

It was quite an incredible evening.