The week that was.

This is me.

 (actual size.)

This is where I work.

 (not actual size.)

I just want to make two things perfectly clear about the above two photos. 1) I am not the new Doctor Who, so, I apologize if you think you had an inside scoop there, and, 2) Despite the picture of the college I regret to inform you that it is not snowing outside so don't bother going to look!



So. I hear you ask, why the pictures? Firstly so that I can connect with you, my dear readers, so that you know what I look like, (bet you wish you didn't now!) and you know where I work and what I do. What's that? I haven't told you yet? Well, I am just about to.

I work as a Teaching & Care Assistant to learners with learning difficulties at Central Sussex College in Crawley. I love my job, I am legally contracted to say that. (Only kidding.) I really do love it.

So far, this academic year it has been a real challenge. Both good and bad. We have a new batch of learners and it has been an interesting journey with them so far. But, challenges are what make the job so exciting and I wouldn't want to change that for anything. For obvious reasons I will not talk too much about work on here. Mainly because I would hate to bore you with it, but from time to time I may mention something, and this is one of those times.

This week at work we celebrated Equality and Diversity, and, yours truly, was responsible for delivering wheelchair driving lessons to main stream learners, who took it in turns to go haring round the college in manual wheelchairs. I would like to point out that you don't need a license to operate a wheelchair, so don't you go trying to apply for one at the D.V.L.A. The whole idea of the session was to highlight the barriers people in wheelchairs face on a daily basis, both in and around the college. It turned out to be quite successful and we received some positive feedback from it.

Also this past week I attended an audition for a upcoming play at The Ifield Barn Theatre called The Sugar Syndrome. I have been offered one of the main roles. The play itself is very controversial, so it will be interesting to see what the audience will make of it. (I will keep you posted of the storyline in due course.)

Other than that, I have been busy attending Panto rehearsals. Curtain is up next week! I will be playing the Dame. I wouldn't say the role has affected me, although I do seem to have adopted a bit of a camp pose as of late, so, if you see me mincing down the street do me a favour and tell me to man up!



The hunt for Jack. . .

I don't know why I do these Paranormal investigations. I never find anything, and I certainly don't sense anything like other members of the group can. (Really wish that I could though.) If anything, I sometimes feel a bit of a berk spending the evening calling out "Is anybody there?", when, quite clearly there isn't. Having said that, every paranormal investigation I have been on is great fun. We have in all seriousness had some stuff happen, ouija board has moved and we have heard unexplained noises. The  members mediumship abilities have picked up on all sorts of stuff too. (Again, jealous.)
More often than not though, it provides us with an opportunity to snoop around some interesting venues late at night and have a good giggle at the same time.

So, this was our latest venue. The Old Nick Theatre. Once a police station and courtroom, now a converted theatre seating 46 people upstairs, whilst downstairs the old police cells still remain.

The old courtroom. Converted into a stage and seating area. Small isn't it?

Here we have a delightful view of a Forrest! Just kidding. It's the stage for Narnia the Musical.

The entrance to the cells. Spooky huh?

One of the cells occupants. Mr. Bean. Locked up for crimes against comedy.

As I said, bugger all happened. The scariest thing we heard were Tony's sordid tales of Amsterdam, of which I wont repeat, but they were very entertaining!
So, after an evening that grew increasingly colder, of moving from room to room asking if anyone was there, There wasn't. Unless they were playing hide and seek, which would have been a bit naff because we can't see the buggers to begin with! We packed up at around 4:00am and headed back to Fawlty Towers. If I thought it was cold in that room at 8:00pm, it was flipping freezing by 4:10am! I nabbed the duvet off of the spare bed and put it over the top of the one I was sleeping in and hunkered down for the night. I say hunkered down, I spent the rest of the night shivering with cold and, partly in fear of the trouser less owner of the jeans that were sitting in my wardrobe would come back to collect them! Also, A hotel on a busy main street where you can't close the window means that you hear every single car, van and lorry trundle past, and surprisingly there are a lot of them up and about at that hour!
A few hours later and we were up and about. We headed home on the long journey back to Crawley, where a week of work, rehearsals and auditions beckoned.
Oh, in case you were wondering about the title. The hunt for Jack? Jack is Jack Shit, and he follows us everywhere!

The Mean Streets.

So, there we were. Having booked ourselves into the only Hotel where the cockroaches feared to tread, a cross between Fawlty Towers and The Bates Motel, only without the charm, we were ready to hit the mean streets of Gainsborough.
There is a reason, dear readers, why they call it the mean streets. Now, I don't know if you have ever been to Gainsborough, but, for me, first impressions count. And, my first impressions were along the lines of "Oh my God, I'm going to get mugged!"
I am by no means a wimp. I have walked the streets of Crawley late at night, I have traversed the busy seaside towns of Brighton and Blackpool alone in the wee small hours. Hell, I even travelled the city of London in the early hours of the morning with my friend who was dressed up as Doctor Who (we had been to the Doctor Who Proms at The Royal Albert Hall) and we survived! But, never have I felt quite as fearful as I did that evening on the short walk from our cesspit, sorry, Hotel to our paranormal venue, via Tesco for snacks.
I am sure that Gainsborough has many fine qualities, and I am sure that, given more time there are plenty of interesting things to see and do there, but I felt that late at night, even the local gangs driving by in their cars were looking at us thinking, "Bloody hell! They're brave, to be out walking!"

Above is an image of our chosen paranormal venue for the evening. The Old Nick Theatre. An old police station transformed into a theatre for amateur dramatics. Interestingly, or not depending on what you are interested in the old police cells are still intact and we were able to use them as part of our investigation, but, that dear readers will be continued in the next installment. . . .

The Hotel, and, The Craphole. . .

Ladies and Gentlemen, I bid you welcome, to my first ever blog!! Let me begin by asking you to cast your eyes upwards. No, not to the ceiling! I worry about you sometimes! I meant, cast your eyes to the picture at the top of the page.

This, is The White Hart Hotel in Gainsborough. And, this is where myself and a friend were supposed to be staying last Saturday night. Pretty isn't it?
So. Imagine our surprise when, after four and a bit hours of traveling, and a confused Sat Nav later we arrived at said destination only to find out that it had been closed down earlier that week! (Yep, we laughed too!)
We had arrived in Gainsborough to do a paranormal investigation at The Old Nick Theatre, and, because it was along drive had booked ourselves into an overnight stay at the afore mentioned hotel.
Slightly bemused by the fact that our accommodation was, as the sign on the door read, "Closed until further notice." we set off in search of another place to crash the night.
We found this. . .

Cosy, huh?

We walked into what can only be described as the most disturbing fancy dress party I had ever seen. A team of rugby players had descended upon the pub/hotel in a variety of different outfits. The big beer bellied individual in the pink hot pants is an image that will unfortunately stay with me for a long time.

We checked in at the reception/service hatch. The poor bar woman who was working alone, and looking very stressed, informed us that we were in luck. They had a couple of rooms available for the night and, that the rooms were "Quite nice."

Her saying the rooms were quite nice is like me saying to you that The Bates Motel is quite friendly.

I entered the room. (Well, shoulder barged my way in.) The first thing that struck me was just how bloody cold it was. Both the windows were open. I walked over to shut them only to discover that on one of them the catch was broken, so I had two choices. Partially open or, open!

I never bothered to unpack as I would only be there for a few hours, but, I did, decide to have a root around the cupboards and drawers etc.

The first wardrobe, well, only wardrobe I opened greeted me with a dirty pair of jeans sitting at the bottom. I remember thinking that I hope the owner of these jeans doesn't come back looking for them in a trouserless state late at night!

The cupboard under the sink had a empty bottle of Coke in it, the obligatory Hotel Bible had a suspicious stain on the cover, the T.V, had no reception and everything felt sticky to the touch. I reminded myself that I woudn't be there for very long, so I got changed, and went next door to meet up with my friend and, together we hit the streets of Gainsborough. . . .