Welcome to my strand of the web and welcome to your whole self - the bits that do and don't fit into neat labels and website templates - and I especially welcome the parts of yourself you aren't keen on - that's usually where the magic lies. Thank you for coming. I hope there is some offering here that delights you. Come and see a show! Join me in class (in person or online). Create ceremony with me. I would love to connect with you.

I'm an actor and yoga teacher and writer and ritualist and giddy aunt and lots of other things too. I was trying to think of a word that would bring all the different parts of myself together so that I could present myself to you in one paragraph, in one place, on one website. I haven’t succeeded but I do know the feeling that fuels my work in the world: communitas. Communitas is the luscious, easy, life-is-good, I-love-you, let’s-make-a-beautiful-world, togetherness humans feel after a ritual (even if that ritual is a Greek tragedy). It was articulated by the anthropologist Victor Turner and is worth a google. As much as I love the cosiness of being home alone I love connecting with my fellow earthlings, catastrophic and miraculous beings that we are.

But if you want to know more about me feel free to assess my CVs, watch my semi-(for legal and artistic reasons)autobiographical shows, or keep reading below.

I'm an actor - a gun for hire. (Please do hire me.) I love fearless, naturalistic acting and the kind where performers twine around chairs with bare feet. I also make my own work:  funny, feminist, semi-autobiographical, stand-up theatre pieces for festivals as well as more traditional (sort-of) literary plays. Sometimes I give academic lectures on witches. ​

I love exploring difficult, quotidian and/or joyful questions, quirks and curiosities live, in theatrical space, with you.  I aim to be in service to Life.  This means that my work is often feminist, ecofeminist and funny but of course, I reserve the treachery to be none of those things - or more than them all. Whether I'm on a grand stage, in a local library or gathering a moon circle in my living room, I want to help us revel in the pleasure of liveness, remember what it is to be human, to see ourselves in each other and maybe even be surprised by what we haven't forgotten yet.

I really like ideas (dazzle me!) so I’m someone who needs to remember that I’m a body too. Yoga has given me a relationship with myself that is pretty spectacular. I delight in the way my toes fan out, my mind clears and my heart blasts open.

And, to tell the truth, I like exercise where you get to lie down at the end.

​I discovered a deep connection with my body through drama movement classes. I, who had failed athletically at school and could hardly catch a ball, could happily walk as if I were wading through treacle. I realised that the imagination is my way to body intimacy. I am so lucky to have come across yoga teachers who invited me to further discover the poetry of the body. Somehow a lyrical instruction could change everything. When Sianna Sherman asked me to spread my wings, I found more length and ease. When Leila Sadeghee asked me to lift my leg from the kidney, it floated up. What strange magic was this?

That’s a question I still ask myself. I love the awe of realising that we can transform ourselves with a thought or a movement or a desire and how entwined those things can be. Yoga allows us to love ourselves fully and to dance in the mystery of ourselves, each other and the universe. It also asks us to​ dream, live and build a world where all beings are happy and free. Yoga demands the best of us.

Drama, too, is about creating new worlds, and old worlds, and mirror worlds and falling into them and seeing through them and frolicking in possibility.  It, like yoga, asks deliciously teasing questions about consciousness. There is something fascinating about us humans: the-ones-who-know-we're-here; indeed, the-ones-who-know-that-we-know-that-we're-here. So let's play in the here of our choosing for a while, in the in-between place, in the make-believe, in the dream time.

Also -  I'd love to be in a  soap. Just saying.