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Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Notes from a tired mind.

Tonight will be my second shift of the second week, and so far it's looking relatively rosy. The girls are fabulous (obviously), our inspectors are amazing . . . ly tolerant (and pretty damn super human into the bargain!), the outfits are, well, tight, badly-fitting and uncomfortable. On the whole then, not too bad at all - although I have very little concept of time anyway, so working crazy night shifts is deeply confusing!

Perhaps I should elaborate on the much discussed, covetted and contentious Bunny suits; they look incredible. Even I can't stop staring at the girls in them. Made of parachute silk we croupiers are of the classic black variety, whereas Salvatore's lovely cocktail ladies don steel, and the hugely hard-working valets are easy to spot in cherry red. The ears adjust to reflect our moods (happy bunny, tips-please bunny, scared bunny, knackered bunny etc. The long-legged Casey has perfected confused bunnny), and the tail is infinitely touchable. Sometimes I find that I just stand stroking my own tail at the table! I'm not at all happy that it's made of Marabou feathers, although I was assured that they were 'gathered' ethically. Hmmm.

The problem is not the suits themselves - it is the fact that in spite of numerous fittings, the majority do not fit. The poor on-site seamstress has truely got her work cut out for her. I love wearing the suit - there is something so wonderfully surreal about standing at an elegantly dressed roulette table, playing this complicated game that looks so glamorous but is so clear cut, precise and darned mathmatical, with pretty little chips in a multitude of colours, aiding ladies and gents (sic) fritter away thousands in the middle of the night - on what is fundamentally just complete chance - all whilst dressed as a giant rabbit.

Whilst it was never the obvious career choice for an ethically minded, free-thinking vegetarian with 1st Class Honours in Linguistics, who has travelled the world and once applied to be an MP, being a Playboy Bunny is allowing me to follow my dreams, get my film produced, my play staged and my voice heard. But perhaps the Eff Off Hef feminists would prefer that I waited tables for an impoverised  five years or so, like the rest of London's artistically inclined youth.

Monday, 2 May 2011

Right out of a Disney film.

This April has been eventful by all accounts; on a personal note I had a lovely birthday on a sunny Easter Sunday – the first EVER I might note. I don’t feel I didn’t the Easter side properly, given that I ate one mini egg. Normally I have had two whole eggs by breakfast.

Bank holidays have obviously been a running theme – and what with, oh damn I was going to build up to it but I can’t because I’m so excited (still) by de de de dum, the Royal Wedding: Nice village girl and a likeable, kind and thoughtful Prince.

Whilst this obviously signified a major progression for the British Monarchy in terms of values, awareness and - dare I say it – equality, in my humble opinion this couple are beginning to set a good example to international Royals. And before anyone starts, I’m not spouting about imperialism, colonial rule and – heaven forbid – the Empire. Quite simple, we are unlikely to live to see the end a Monarchy worldwide; it may have a bloody and cruel history, yada yada yada, but it exists and probably always will as long as humans continue to be so human.

And let’s just reminisce; Will made his entrance to the world with Harry – both looking cheerful and excited (and in Harry’s case, a little hung over?). Whilst I may not have been born when Diana married Charles, William’s shy, gentle smiles were all Diana, and a world apart from the cold groom that was his Father. The wedding was a dream and the dress gorgeous. Demure and eminently suitable, Sarah Burton did a good job of creating an outfit that was modern and traditional. The classic shape suited both her and the occasion, but it didn’t look old fashioned. But then, that was the only outcome for a dress from the house of Alexander McQueen.

I was particularly charmed by the array of trees in the abbey . . 

. . . I have to share that when I just Googled Hornbeam trees in an attempt to find out what they actually are, I came across this random little snippet in an online ‘dictionary’:
“His body was found hanging from a hornbeam tree in the woods south of Prague, an empty bottle of cheap wine at his feet.”

How bizarre is that?! I seriously hope that’s not significant to any Language of Tree thing they may have had going on!! Anyhow, I’ve had to have a little word with myself, and I’ve put that thought out of my head. Now the bouquet; I am rather a fan of flowers and their language (you can learn a lot of things from the flowers), and a posy of Lily-of-the-valley, Hyacinth, Myrtle and Sweet William, is associated with sweetness, renewal and gallantry – although I think the latter bloom speaks for itself.

So, the Queen was ace – she left the young ‘uns to it for the party so that Harry could tell dirty jokes, and she described the Wedding as “A-maze-ing”. Well, maybe not quite like that, but it’s almost as good as Camilla’s observation that news of the engagement was “Wicked”. Love it. The bass from Buckingham Palace was heard up till 3am, and in the morning Harry was alive but missing.

Do you know what I liked best? The fact that millions of people felt happy for the couple, happy to enjoy the occasion and happy to celebrate. That’s nice to see isn’t it – a bit of good news. As you may have noticed, I have become strangely obsessed with the whole notion – which I assure you is quite out of character. I have bought (and am munching as I write) a tin of McVitie’s, several papers and OK, and if I see any commemorative mugs left on the shelves I will buy some. Two actually – one to keep and one that Sten will inevitably break.

The weather as been well behaved if frivolous (well, it was April), and as May gets here we are told that Osama Bin Laden as been killed by US Special Forces in Pakistan. Well it’s worrying enough, and that’s only assuming that all facts we’ve been fed are true!

What’s next I wonder? Anyway, night night, I should be painting my nails or polishing my Roulette.