50 Ways to Find a Lover

50 Ways to Find a Lover

Lucy-Anne Holmes is an actress living in London.
50 Ways to Find a Lover
had its genesis in Lucy’s blog www.spinstersquest.com, cataloguing her real-life love woes.

PAN BOOKS

First published 2009 by Pan Books

This electronic edition published 2009 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan Ltd
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Rd, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-330-50548-2 in Adobe Reader format
ISBN 978-0-330-50547-5 in Adobe Digital Editions format
ISBN 978-0-330-50549-9 in Mobipocket format

Copyright © Lucy-Anne Holmes 2009

The right of Lucy-Anne Holmes to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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www.panmacmillan.com
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contents

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For Mum and Dad

Thank you for everything

(please don’t read the rude bits)

one

I’m single. A spinster. Alone. Unloved. Unwanted. Rejected. Solo. Mono.

I feel like an old Fiesta, locked up in a garage, rusting. The advert in
Auto Trader
isn’t getting any interest. There is a disarming number of newer models who have had just the one careful owner. Sadly I’ve had a few very clumsy and mentally unstable owners. I’m twenty-nine, or more to the point nearly thirty.

I am also an out-of-work actress with a hangover. I am pointless, embarrassing and I smell. I am like a yeast infection.

I think someone is trying to kick their way out of my skull and molluscs might have fallen asleep in my eyes. Why couldn’t I have woken up still drunk? Waking up still drunk is much more fun than waking up with a hangover. Then you can do the pint-fry-up-back-to-bed routine, which rarely lets you down. My extensive research of hangovers has led me to the conclusion that only two things can save you:

Both remedies are out of the question today. I drank all the port in the flat last night and I haven’t had sex for 325 days.

All I can do is lie here as still as possible, with my eyes glued together for the whole day. Please, God, don’t let Simon discover me. Simon is the anti-hangover. He is also my flatmate. He has got more energy than a hyperactive toddler on speed. He is currently training for the London Marathon so is always on a natural post-run high. I live in fear that he might explode with endorphins at any moment. It would be messy if he did, as we live in the smallest two-bedroom flat ever converted in Camden Town, London.

I shall just try to open my right eye and see what the time is: 10.14 a.m. Perhaps it is not so bad being an out-of-work actress today. My mobile phone is vibrating in my hand. It appears as though I passed out last night, fully clothed, in my single bed, holding my mobile phone. I disgust myself. Frequently.

Please, God, let it be my agent. Last week I had two auditions for the role of a feisty shepherdess in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of
As You Like It
. I made the brave decision to read for the part of the shepherdess with a Welsh accent. I reasoned that there are a lot of sheep in Wales. I read for the part with a Welsh accent, which sadly went to Jamaica, then Lithuania, before settling for the most part in Kent. The director looked incredulous for a long time when I had finished and then insisted that the play was set in Somerset. I thought I had committed audition suicide, but they recalled me, which means that I am in with a very good chance.