The sky is blue. And the air is crisp. And the night before you’ve been to see your favourite band, The Cat Empire. And the gig is not one of their most mind-blowing or exhilarating, but they play some of your favourites, like The Car Song and The Darkness and The Chariot. And seeing those Aussie boys all the way over here in London playing their tight tunes and doing what they do best just makes you feel good. And you remember all the gigs you’ve seen them play over the past 8 years and all the friendships and lovers they’ve seen you through and you know at the end of the day, no matter what, despite the glorious cliche of it, you’ll always have the music. And in the morning you head out to East London to meet up with old friends and you walk down Brick Lane. And you smell all the delicious curries. And you spot one of the lead singers from the Cat Empire and it makes you feel a bit hip that he’s here too. And you walk through the record shop and find a shelf full of books and you find one which looks interesting and you discover a lovely chapter on food foraging in London and you get so lost in its words and pages that you’re surprised when your friends are suddenly standing in front of you calling out your name reminding you that you are standing in a record shop in east London. 

And then you sit on a bench in the sun with a chilli hot chocolate and a dark chocolate truffle. And to your left a family is posing for photographs. And to your right people are eating assorted food stuffs from the street vendors dotted all around. And you make your way west towards central London and stroll around St Paul’s Cathedral and feel oddly moved by the Occupy London people. This tent city outside the church, peacefully protesting the status quo. And you head back home and buy pasta and sauce and garlic bread for dinner and supplies for cookie baking. And the sun sinks deeper into the west and streaks the horizon with a dash of highlighter pink. And you smile at the chill in the air. And know you are living the life enchanted. The end. 

Imagine you are ten and you dance around the living room with your arms up like this and  suddenly you are a grown up living in the city where Mary Poppins comes from and you are sitting in Royal Albert Hall, which is very beautiful, and very big, even for a grown-up. And Marvin Hamlisch, who is the man who wrote A Chorus Line, the first musical you ever saw live, the first musical where you felt that little tingle in the bottom of your stomach telling you, “Oh! That's what I want to be doing!”, walks out onto the stage which has a full symphony orchestra sitting on it, and he walks up to the podium and all the people in the  audience cheer. And he raises his baton, and the people with the instruments know which notes to play and they are the notes to the opening of the song “One” from A Chorus Line. And you hear that familiar refrain and you suddenly feel a bit teary because there is Marvin Hamlisch conducting one of the pieces he wrote, which happens to be from your first proper musical, and here you are in London studying musical theatre and sitting in Royal Albert  Hall! 
  
And a little while later Idina Menzel floats onto the stage in a beautiful white ball gown with a black sash. And she sings “I’m not that girl” from Wicked, and Cole Porter and Lady Gaga and she tells the story about being cast in a little off-Broadway show called RENT and how on the night of the dress-run the writer Jonathan Larson died unexpectedly of an aneurism and she sings a lovely version of No Day But Today and oh god it makes you cry. And your friend passes you a tissue. And then Idina sings For Good acapella and that is very good too.  And outside the theatre you get to meet Sir Tim Rice. And he is a very friendly chap. And you can’t quite believe that the man responsible for many of the lyrics that you have sung, listened to, heard over and over since time began, is standing in front of you smiling and shaking your hand and introducing himself as “Tim”.
 
And then you go and share pizza with a new friend who you met in the audience, and she is lovely. And you float home on London’s wonderfully efficient public transport system and you think “oh my! What a week this has been!” Because the day before you saw a concert at the Barbican where the BBC Symphony Orchestra played a new score as live accompaniment to an old silent film from the 1920s. And it was utterly magical to be transported by an old film made over seventy years ago and even more magical to watch a full symphony orchestra play a delicious score. 
 
And earlier in the week you were in NYC. And last week you saw two brand new musicals. And you were a guest presenter on your favourite podcast. And in the midst of it all you get to go to school every day to learn more about musicals and be with lovely people who share your joy and your passion and your fun. And you feel very blessed to be surrounded by all this culture, this music, these wonderful people. And you walk home and the moon is shining and the stars are bright and the air is chilly and fresh, and you say, thank you thank you thank you to the powers that be for allowing me to live this life enchanted.  And you crawl into bed at 1.40am and fall asleep smiling. The end. 

Dear Uncle Mordechai. Could you ever have imagined, two-hundred and twenty odd years go, as you sat in the pub in London that your great-great-great (etc) niece would one day be here in this city of yours?! Because here I am. I’m in London! There’s no place like London!  Demon barbers aside... The double-decker red buses, the Tube, the masses of people from every walk-of-life, colour, creed, background, and birth status. That building is from 1200 A.D and that one was built on Roman foundations. And yet, here I am, this child from Australia whose ancestor sailed from here over two centuries ago! And in the intervening time his son sailed from London too, and he had children and they had children and they had children and so on and so forth and in between there were whole World Wars and  the Depression and  stolen children and whole countries were formed (including Australia which was signed into being in London!) and other immigrants arrived (including my mother) and suddenly history has fast forwarded, has appeared at this moment and here I am this Australian child born of Spanish, Filipino, Dutch, and Polish ancestors standing in London! And like a game from the Age of Empires, my map slowly unfolds around me as I explore this unknown yet strangely familiar territory. All the names from the Monopoly Board, all those markers from collective  consciousness suddenly here in my real perceived existence. It is strange. It is lovely. It is just here. And here I am ready to start drama school, ready to begin this Next Chapter. And I think of everything that has brought me to this moment. Two hundred and twenty odd years of history. Twenty-seven years of my own history and memories and recollections of the life that has brought me to be living in London. And then I smile and let it all go because it doesn’t matter. Because here I am. And here we go. 

And people are here from all over the planet speaking all their myriad of languages and think of all the hours worked to get here all the emotional upheaval all the planning the working  the wishing and praying and suddenly you are there in Times Square and your heart just sings at it all and your inner child is practically climbing up your inner organs and screaming dear Lulu! THIS IS WHERE WE BELONG! OH HOW I LOVE IT HERE! And your adult sensible self thinks, oh god. New York?! Times Square?! It is grimy and full of advertising and pandering to mass consumption and the massive energy use of the place and the people everywhere. And surely this is not paradise! But oh my! Another hundred people! NYC with all your shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels and the stands with the men selling prints of paintings of the shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels. And everywhere you look is a sign advertsing a show! And theatre is number one! And you’ve just come from a Broadway show and here you are walking down Broadway to the subway at 42nd Street and it is wonderful! It’s true what they say, the Bronx is up and the Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground, New York, New York, it’s truly wonderful brilliant amazing makes your heart and soul sing! 

And you find yourself on a mountain. And over to your left is the Hollywood sign, unfocused and blurry not from romantic screens over the camera but from the haze that covers the  sprawling city. But still the view is pretty and surprises you because there is more green than you ever expected or remembered from your last time in this place. And then you are sitting in a chair that gives you a massage while one lady buffs and files and paints your nails while another buffs and files and paints your toenails and suddenly you are in a restaurant which serves the best quality food and it makes you happy to know that there is a place that values  organic whole foods too. It even has a name here. Macrobiotics. And you spend time with friends and you play games with dice in red cups and you work together to save yourselves from the sinking island and capture the treasure and escape before it's too late and because there are more of you playing you can't quite figure out how to do it and the game sinks you twice.

And suddenly you are on the other side of the country watching the Tony Awards in Brooklyn. And it is nice to be with people who have even been to see some of the shows, let alone know what the Tony Awards are. And then you are standing on the High Line, a disused railway line that is now a garden. And it really is delightful to walk above the New York hustle and bustle and be amongst the greenery. And then you are in Central Park, and the Frick Museum, and then you are walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and you find yourself in a little shop drinking hot chocolate spiced with chili and cinnamon and nutmeg because although it is the beginning of summer this afternoon is a little cold with a constant drizzle of rain and it is perfect weather for spicy hot chocolate and little hand-made chocolates.

And then you are in Boston. And you are with your cousin. And although she is several years younger than you, and you grew up continents apart, she gets you. She understands. She is  like you. And it is nice to be with a kindred spirit. And you eat pizza with goat's cheese and fig and caramelized onion. And you sit in an Irish-style pub and listen to an Italian musician sing convincing drinking songs, and everyone around you is banging the table with their hands and singing and laughing and even thought the room is dark the mood is light and you enjoy your red wine and your gorgonzola melt and singing and laughing with the rest of them. And then you are in Salem and you marvel at the history of it all and when did that  history become a tourist attraction? The cemetery with its old graves makes you shake your head in wonder. A grave from 1692! And you look out at the lake behind Kassie's house and marvel at all the events that have brought you to this place, this whole year-and-a-half of events, and you are glad that you are here with this beautiful friend overlooking a beautiful lake.

And then you find yourself on Nantucket. And you are with Los Titos de Nantucket. And they make you feel so at home, so welcome. And although there are many memories here, you feel OK. And it surprises you to feel OK. And it makes you feel better. And you wander around town and feel joy in all the flowers and the prettiness of the place. And you are walking along the beach looking out to the Atlantic. And all around you are shells - the flat mother-of-pearl ones are Indian currency. The round stripy ones are scallop shells and remind you of the Camino, but these are smaller. There are rocks and shells of every colour and the sand alternates between soft and rough and you watch a seagull picking its way through a fresh crab. And as you get closer, the gull picks up its lunch and moves further down the each, lest you try to steal his catch of the day. 

And you breathe in the salty air. And on the ferry you toss two pennies overboard, just past the lighthouse, to make sure you will return. And as you approach the lighthouse you inspect the pennies and discover that there is a penny for each of the years your sisters were born, the older and the younger, and you think that is a nice touch of coincidence. Your family are with you wherever you go. And you hope that by throwing those pennies up into the air and sparkling down into the water below, they will draw your sisters here, and bring you back too. To this pretty place where you have so many friends and so much delight. 

Imagine a girl who wakes up one day to find herself on a plane. And she is somewhere over the Pacific. And she thinks perhaps the events of the past year and a half have only been a dream. Because suddenly it all seems right to be flying in the air towards a new life, heading
towards a life of musicals and theatre and being away from the place where she was born and grew. 

And even though this is her third trip away, this trip feels different from the trips before, because now she has the Scarecrow and the Tinman and the Lion by her side. In the past year and a half she has acquired a little more wisdom. She did the meditation course and sometimes it was hard but mostly it was wonderful and she learnt to sit quietly with herself
and be still. 

And even though her heart had been shattered into a million thousand pieces, she realised that she had all these wonderful friends around her (And you were there! And you were there!) and she learnt to look after herself and take care of herself which were all very important. And it was heartening to make all these discoveries. 

And in discovering she had a little more wisdom and a little more heart than before, she discovered she had the courage to go out into the world as herself and not be afraid of what other people thought or said or how often they projected their own fears about the creative life onto her being. 

And she made a promise to herself that she would continue to practise as often as possible to have wisdom and heart and courage and remember her friends by her side and to go out into the world and trip the light fantastic.

The end. Sort of.