Just a great big sloppy thank you

Motivation got the better of me this morning, which is especially unusual since I find Monday a particularly difficult day to get along with.  It's little more than a coexistence that shares just a common disinterest.

Ah, Monday.  How I long to be relieved of you.

Except today.

7.30am - after only 3 hours sleep - my motivation kicked me out of bed and slumped me at my desk.  Wrapped in my fluffy dressing gown, I squinted at the laptop in some vain hopes of understanding my purpose at such a ridiculous hour.

I'm not a big fan of spamming people's facebook walls or twitter feeds, but today was the day to reach out to my professional contacts.  Not too tasking for a pre-breakfast mission.

Doing the rounds of radio stations and newspapers wasn't quite so easy, especially with their distinct Monday morning blues and indifference.  By 9.30am I felt as though I was slamming myself up against a brick wall, so I took a slightly different approach and rewrote my press release for 'this is Cornwall' and published the article myself.

After linking my friends and fans on facebook the article shot to No. 1 in the latest most popular stories.  Congratulation friends of my page!  Well done and thanks go to all of you for reading and sharing!

The strength of social networking

Now, I'm not really much of a public diva.  I tend to get on with things and keep my stroppy diva moments private and to myself.  I don't deny having them, I most certainly have my moments, but never publicly.  

I was surprised - and for a moment, embarrassed - when a fan not only noticed that I had (mistakenly) liked the link of my article but had also written the article about my self.  

Lovely people, I don't pay anyone to promote me, dress me, advise me or any other thing that may apply here.  When finances allow, I shall employ the appropriate people.

(And I shall still be overlooking my press releases and editing them myself.  And my wonderful designer florist mum will always make me weird and wonderful accessories, not for money, for love.)

The misery of colds means but one thing. Shopping!

Colds, coughs, flu, sore throats...welcome to autumn!

Actually I love autumn, it's just the fear of some disgusting, attacking sickness that unnerves me.

Mum works at a college and she's been surrounded by the dreaded freshers flu and guess what...looks like I've picked something up, so rehearsing is most definitely out of the question for now.

Beechams All in One ~ Blueberry menthol sweets ~ Max Strength Cold & Flu Relief Sachets ~ Cherry lozenges ~ Lots of water and pineapple juice.

Prepare to battle.

So, if I can't rehearse, what else can I do?

Now, I'm not usually much of a shopping girl, but being an entertainer comes hand in hand with the task of looking good, so I've been out doing a bit of research into shoes and er, shoes and maybe some more shoes.

Seriously, Marks & Spencers have an embarrassingly dreadful selection of attire - not that I expected much really, but I took a snap for your viewing pleasure.

I can only imagine that the display designer was a) intoxicated or b) confused as to which department s/he was dressing the mannequin.  

This is not just a farmer girl outfit, it's an M&S farmer girl outfit.

So whilst there doesn't appear to be anything less than the modern day farmer's wife costume farce available in the shops as we speak, there is a fantastic selection of massively impractical shoes that come with a warning attached to them stating that wearing for more than the suggested time of an hour (seated of course) can lead to purple toes, raging blisters or sprained ankles. Thankfully, I only have to endure the excruciating pain for the duration of a performance.

Evidentially, 6 inch, psycho killer heals were designed for me. Not sure how they'll look with a farmers jacket and waterproofs though.

Penwith Radio. Makeup. Reminisce.

I'm not well acquainted with 6am.

6am and I usually pass briefly, once a week or so.  Exchanging a pleasant nod, we appreciate the sheer inconvenience of this early morning encounter.

This morning was most definitely different.

The very man who introduced me to working late nights on the entertainment circuit was the man who asked me in for a chat on his radio breakfast show, yesterday morning!

After a somewhat late night of editing some rough recordings in time for the radio interview, I managed to drag myself from the warmth of my duvet and the protection of my pillow mountain to get showered, dressed and made up.

Now, if I hadn't persisted with painting my face and sticking my hair, I would've had plenty of time to get my tracks ready.  Make up won hands down.  Editing lost and took place on the 20 minute train journey.

My early morning rush meant editing on the train and writing notes in last years diary

Dave is the man who first put a microphone in my hand, 14 years ago.  He tells me he remembers seeing a spark, something special that needed nurturing and that's why he encouraged me to continue singing.

I recall this: nothing but intense fear, an increasingly heavy feeling upon my chest and a distinct gush of redness to my cheeks.  Petrified?  Without a doubt.  Horrified?  Yes.  Intrigued?  I suppose I was.

Never will I be one of these vocalists who claim to have been singing since their days in their mother's womb, but that doesn't much bother me.  I was lucky enough to discover this gift in my teens and was even luckier to be able to work with many varied, established local acts over 14 years.

Dave re-editing my train editing efforts just moments before our on air chat

My morning with Dave was one of memories, laughs and the occasional serious discussion about the music industry and despite my lack of enthusiasm at 6am this morning, I soon found the core of my passion at the sight of a microphone and an old familiar face.

So, what did I learn today?

No one sees your makeup on radio.