7 days ago

WORKING ABROAD OR RUNNING AWAY

Working Abroad or running away

After the West End I went abroad.

I had, had enough.

Not of my job, but external things that just made life heavy, unpleasant and it was affecting my abilities and my health.

I knew leaving, and not internally fighting for my job was probably the wrong thing to do and maybe career suicide, but I couldn’t see any other way out, except to just “get away”. I had to decompress and refresh my soul. Continuing would have really finished me at that point.

When I started out in the business, I knew I had a great voice, I had something to offer, but in London, with all my personal stress, it was really affecting my voice, my chest. I was feeling very run down, not from the show, but from life. Something had to change.

Yes, I was leaving behind something I had fought so hard to achieve, but being abroad...it was a totally different life. I could sing without being judged by fellow cast members, not have my life or personality scrutinised. No-one knew what was going on personally and they made their own assumptions. If you’re not in the ‘clique’ in a show, then life can be hard.

I didn’t make a big declaration about it. I just went.

I ended up being away for about ten years on and off. Europe mostly. Some contracts on land. Some at sea. The ships were around 1,500 passengers. Big enough to disappear on. Small enough that everyone eventually knew everyone.

It became normal.

New country. New place to live. Learn the layout. Do the job. Move again.

There wasn’t some grand plan attached to it. It was work. It was where the contracts were. I wasn’t performing in the West End anymore and I wasn’t building anything permanent either. I was just moving.

Cyprus.

He happened to be there doing a gig.

Years had passed. Proper years. Not weeks or months.

We met.

I was nervous. Properly nervous. But also happy to see him. I knew instantly I still loved him. That hadn’t shifted.

I told myself it was just that. Just the moment. Just the day.

We spent the day together.

It was lovely. Easy. Familiar without being heavy. No big conversations about the past. No planning the future. No “what are we doing?” talk. It wasn’t that.

I knew it couldn’t be that.

When it finished, it finished.

I went back to my contract.

I have never seen him since.

There have been the odd short Facebook messages once or twice over decades, but nothing that meant anything. Nothing that reopened anything.

That was the last time.

The ten years abroad carried on. Different countries. Different jobs. Land. Sea. Repeat.