HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL FROM PRIMROSE HILL!!!

Thats better :) xxxxxx

FUCK CHRISTMAS

There. Ive said it.

Never judge a librarian by his cover

Bit of  a drama this morning when I went to return some library books only to find the library closed . In the last few years , as my income has dwindled (along with my celebrity status), my use of the library has become a daily ritual,and so my heart started to palpitate when I suddenly had the recollection of last weeks announcment that the goverment had made cuts and closed all  libraries in Somerset . What if they were extending this policy to Primrose Hill too?That would mean PAYING for books.

In my more affluent days whilst I was on"The Tv Show" I used to just waltz into Waterstones, paying full whack for the latest Besteller, even going for the luxury of a hardback if I so wished, moving on to charity shops, as the telly jobs started to dry up, where I would often play the game of Book Tarot. (Book Tarot at the charity shop consists of standing at the shelf of scond hand books asking God to help you pick one which will give you a secret message and change your life...alot of actors I know play this game ). However in recent times of being an out of work actress in a recession (which is not very different to being an out of work actress in a booming economy actually), I have had no choice but to sign up for my little green card and stand side by side the students and local tramps who come in to keep warm, in order to fuel my reading habit. And I have been pleasantly surprised. In fact, I sometimes wonder why I didnt do this sooner. Not only can you borrow books but they also loan out Films and  CD's . (Although I had to calm down my download habit for a while after the lady at the desk asked me what I was doing with 5 CDs a day. )
"I just love music" I had gushed, and tried to hide my ipod.

Anyway, I had nearly gone home to get my protesters parka and placard when some of the staff turned up and let me in. Turns out that they were all a bit delayed by the snow in Kent.(why does everyone seem to live in Kent whenever it snows?!!) ,
As I entered, though, I noticed something different .They had just changed the front desk to a new self service system which means you check in and out yourself, like those tills in the supermarket that noone uses. Given no human option, I tentatively approached the machne and attempted to follow the instruction.
It seemed easy enough.

1.Put membership card into slot.

So I did. And nothing.
I tried again.Still nothing.
A little old lady taps my shoulder.

"Put it in the other way love," I do and the machine springs to life, giving me an array of options to choose from. I press the returns button and it tells me to swipe my books over the panel, so I do just that. Again nothing.
A queue of impatient OAPs, arms laden with large print Agatha Christies, is starting to build up , I'm panicking.  I try again. No Joy
"Its not bloody working." I say loudly
"Would you like some help?" says a male voice and I turn to see a rather good looking young man standing there smiling.
"Yes please," I say churlishly
He takes the book from my sweaty hands and glides it over the panel effortlessly.The machine accepts it without a struggle.
"You're from that TV show arent you?" he says
"Yees," I whsiper shyly
"Not seen you on our screens for a while," he continues,
"Well, I've been writing a novel actually," I say and he looks up.
"Thats funny. So have I."
"Are you an actor too?" I say and he laughs.
"No, I'm a writer" the screen makes a different funny noise as he glides the last book over."Its saying you have some books still overdue," he says frowns and presses a button on the screen and up comes a list, to my horror, of my outstanding loans   And I have never felt so naked and exposed in my whole life.

1.Prozac nation
2.How to overcome OCD
3.How to overcome Low Self Esteem
4.He's just not that into you
5 He thinks he's not that into you how to convince him that he really is
6 The Bell Jar
7 Why am I always the One before The One
8 Freedom by Joanthan Franzen

and I look at the screen hopelessly and then back at his grinning face and he says, "I've just read Freedom. Its really interesting I'd love to discuss it over a coffee sometime?"

My mind flashes to Suit Guy. He's not officially my boyfriend. We're just dating. One coffee with an intelligent young writer isnt infidelity.
"What has happened to Suit Guy ?" I hear you asking....well, I'll cover that next time.

Ten Things I FUCKING hate about you

This new found notoriety has really gone to Fellow Actress's head. We met up for a Starbucks Gingerbread Latte yesterday afternoon and she turned up in full make up, wearing massive Ray Ban Aviators, (despite the fact we are two weeks away from Christmas) and sporting a very shiny Botoxed forehead. We had just sat down at a table when some poor French woman who was holding her A to Z, looking a bit lost ,came up to us and was just about to speak when Fellow Actress put out her hand in a "halt" sign and said ( without even looking at her) "PLEASE CAN YOU JUST LET ME HAVE A PRIVATE LIFE"

The woman scuttled off looking scared and confused and I stared at Fellow Actress in shock
"Babe, she was only asking directions!" I said
To which Fellow actress retorted, "Oh for God's sake Harriett, just because your fame is dwindling don't give me a hard time.It's HELL being recognised all the time and YOU of all people should understand."
I snorted at her delusion and then, as I watched her spooning the cream of her latte into her napkin because s" the camera adds ten pounds " and she "never knows these days if she might end up on the cover of Heat" it suddenly occurred to me that Fellow Actress has actually started to believe that she is really famous.Ever since the Film Star epoisode. And its really, really funny.
So I thought, for the blog,  I'd make a list of signs, based on Fellow Actress's erratic behaviour, to look out for to help spot People Who Think They Are Famous When They Are Not.

Ten Signs You Think You are Famous When You are Not (But Maybe You Probably Should Be)

1. You always call ahead when you dine at your local Pizza Express so that they can prepare the best table for you and sneak you in the back entrance.


2. You demand that your cousin confiscates all guests’ camera phones at his own wedding in case people take unsolicited snaps of you


3. You tweet about the fact you are going to the local pub, then ask them for free drinks for the extra publicity they are getting.

4. Your hairdresser constantly has to talk you out of “Doing a Britney” every time you go for a trim.

5 The last three things in your Google search history are the Atkins,Chinawhites and Alcoholics Anonymous.

6. You hang out at the village football pitch in the hope of snagging a local footballer.

7. You call OK magazine when you finally split up with him to see if they want the exclusive on the story.

8. You never leave the house without your Raybans, and when the postman comes to deliver your mail you hide behind a bush and scream “No photos!”

9. You send your parents a letter threatening to divorce them for damaging you at childhood thus causing you to seek adulation from the general public.

10. You send your parents another letter asking if you can borrow some money to tide you over until your “comeback”.

God, Grant me the Serenity to not fall for Another Bastard

It's been an interesting few weeks to say the least.

Firstly, I have found myself on a number of "dates" with Suit Guy who, after our first disastrous encounter seems to have taken a liking to me despite my penchant for Mushroom Stroganoff (See This Little Piggy....).

It's fine, I mean he is a really great,interesting guy, we go to the theatre and then he takes me out for dinner , we talk for hours and like the same music ( apart from Status Quo ),but there is something missing, and I can't quite put my finger on it, well actually I can....The problem is..He doesnt treat me like absolute shit...and its slightly unnerving me.And its got me asking myself what the FUCK is wrong with me?

I mean, why do I only fancy men who are bastards? It is so unhealthy and we all know that it ends in tears, I mean look at me and Dom and that fiasco. (oh Dom I miss you so much..shut up shut up shut UP Harriett you fool!!)

I called Fellow Actress the other day to try and get some perspective but she wasn't much help.
"You need to give them up, for like a whole year," she says.
"What men?" I say aghast. .
" No ,bastards. They act as drug. You know I once read that a toxic bachelor hits the same neuro circuit as cocaine. They are highly addictive and highly dangerous and the only way to kick the habit is complete abstinence."
She's become very extremist since she started attending AA after the wedding fiasco. Abstinence is her absolute favourite word right now. About bloody everything
"If only there was a meeting called Bastards Anonymous," I sigh, she pauses for a second." I think there is," she says, " but the waiting list is about six months long."
 
"So how's it going? " I ask, "How are you feeling as a sober person?"
"Amaaaazing," she gushes, "Harry its the BEST thing I've ever done, oh and I've met someone."
"Wow, that was quick, " I say slightly envious at her ability to bounce back so quickly from her self proclaimed heartbreak
"Oh My God Harry. He's amaaazing. He's a film star!!!.I met him at one of the meetings and we went for coffee after and the rest, as they say, is AA History."
" Are you supposed to do that? I mean, I'm no expert but isnt it against the whole ethos? Aren't you meant to be focussing on staying sober?"
"He's a film star Harry," she repeats ignoring me, "He is so fucking famous it's not even funny." She says hardly able to contain her excitement.
" Who is it?" I ask
"Oh I can't possibly say," she declaims dramatically." Its Anonymous Harry! " she tuts
" Right, I say,
" But," she continues , "I'll give you a clue.. he's the lead guy in that film we saw on Sunday? The American one? He's over here for a press junket."
"So you've basically just told me who he is," I say dryly
"Nope. I didnt say his name," She says "Anyway,you wont tell anyone. And I've only told my mum, and Clive."
"Who's Clive?"
"My hair colourist, but he's used to celebrities.He's heard much worse in the salon."
"Right," I sigh. I'm not sure how effective this group therapy is going to be for Fellow Actress if she cant even abide by the anonymity rule .

I am still pondering the age old dilemma of "Why Women Like Bad Boys," the next day in my new" fill in" job at my friend's boutique in Westbourne Park Its a cushty little gig actually because all we seem to do is
 eat chocolate and drink tea and surf My Single Friend for new members "before the other bitches get a chance to get their claws in" (her words not mine) plus she pays me cash in hand which is always a good thing for an actor.

I am sitting there sipping on my third Earl Grey when a man comes in and walks over to the cash desk.
"Hi I 'd like to buy this red bangle for my wife," he says and picks up a blue one from the basket.
"Great," I say, "But you do know thats its not red?"
He looks perplexed and then says, "Oh in that case I'll take this brown one," he says and picks up a green one.
"Ok, " I say," But just so you know its not brown."
"Well what colour is it?" he barks.
"Its green?"
"Oh for fucks sake," he shouts and throws it back into the basket and storms out. I am just about to run after him with a red bangle when Fellow Actress calls.
"Was it you?"  she whispers
"What?"
"Was it you who sent the paparazzi .Front page of the bloody Daily Mail?"
"No! What Paparazzi?" I say shocked that she would think I could do that to a friend, and even ,more shocked that she would think I own the telephone number of such an unsalubrious person
"Oh fuck. It can only be Clive then.Bastard. He said he wouldnt say anything" she snarls as I quickly log on to the Daily Mail website. There, right in front of me is a picture of Fellow Actrress snogging the face off a the aforementioned Film Star in a cafe in Primrose Hill.
" Oh god I've totally fucked up." she says, "My group won't speak to me,I've been banned, what a fucking nightmare!"
"What about the film star?And I thought you weren't drinking!?" I say staring at the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the table between them in teh photo.
"Yeh, well, it was a bit of a disaster. I feel really bad actually, I mean I just thought we could have a nice romantic glass of wine but he just went on a bender."
"Babe!" I say,"You're not supposed to have even one drink if you're an alcoholic!!"
"Well I know that now." she spits,"Anyway he's gone AWOL. His PA has been calling me non stop trying to find out where he is and he keeps calling from this crack den in Kings Cross begging me to come and "party"
"Oh God," I say and suddenly the thought of being with a nice man like Suit Guy seems infinitely more attractive.
"Oh.But there is some good news." she says and I can hear her smiling on the other end of the phone. "My agent says the phone has been inundated with calls to offer me acting jobs. It seems even Bad publicity is good publicity."