MOXIE in the UK
Here I am. It’s somewhere around 1:50 am in England. Now is the time when Americans think ….”oh cool…how is London?”. No, I’m not in London. I’ve been to England 6 times in the last 4 years and only spent one evening in London. Nope…I’m in Pucklechurch. Yeah you heard me right. Pucklechurch sounds like a mystical place where fairies may live…or perhaps somewhere gnomes live but it’s a real place. Pucklechurch is a village half way between Bath and Bristol. Most Americans have never heard of either of those places so I’ll explain further. Pucklechurch is in Gloucester which is in the area of England called the midlands, which is to say I am in the center part of the country toward the west. But what you really want to know is…why am I in Pucklechurch and why the hell have I ventured to England 6 times and not seen a single show on the West End while I’ve been here.
My husband Matt is British and this is where he grew up. We come back often because his family can’t travel for health reasons. It’s cold here right now and I find it funny that I was sick of the warm sunny weather in San Diego just a few days ago. The timing is excellent though as I prepare to direct the next MOXIE show The Sugar Syndrome which is an English play. Just because we share the same language doesn’t mean Americans and the English have a lot in common. Being here reminds me that one of the fabulous things about the play is how English it is. If you know many English you know what I mean when I say there is a fabulous contrast of being reserved and polite and at the same time completly unshocked when it comes to anything bodily. Sex is on TV here everywhere you look. They may blur out area of the screen where actual penatration takes place but that’s about all the decency required in the afterhours on regular tv. The though of old English ladies sipping tea and watchin softcore pornography before bed makes me laugh.
Penny was fantastic on the plane. She has been really well behaved and seems happy despite the freezing temperature which has us housebound most of the time…but she isn’t going to let me get away with changing her schedule around…so she has decided to spit everything I try to feed her in my face. She doesn’t want jarred baby food…or food I make fresh…or finger foods she can feed herself…she is happy al long as I don’t attempt to feed her anything. We go out with friends and I watch in admiration as they’re daughter eats all her food. Mommy guilt takes over…maybe if I prepared all Penny’s food fresh like this mommy does then she would eat. Matt takes me to the fabulous English grocery store. I buy ingredients to cook Penny some more “wholesome meals”…and she spits them in my face. I could hug her. Thanks for the reassurance that you love me just the way I am…as a busy mommy who can’t cook fresh baby food for her at every meal. I’m glad to have those yams in my face because I know it’s not me. I think if she’d gobbled them up my working mommy heart would have broken a little.