Acting is all about honesty, if you can fake that you can fake anything.
The dishwasher is splashing through its cycle, the old git’s gone to bed, the dawters in the attic and Sid has just jumped through the cat flap. I’ve had another gruelling day of dialysis. I woke at 4.00, couldn’t sleep and decided on a papaya. Little did I know that the humble papaya is not … Read more
The Gorse is glorious now in the Ashdown Forest. I love that the prickly shrub has two common namers ‘Furze’ and ‘Whin’. Driving through the mist, windows wide open, I could smell the coconutty scent coming off the whin it soothed my savage breast along with Radio 3. My breasts have been particularly savaged recently … Read more
The kitchen table has turned into a garden centre with floral overtones Every year my birthday is celebrated with colour and cards since everybody knows I’m an overgrown baby. Any excuse for a celebration. The nurses in the dialysis unit overhead a zoom call and brought in a speaker, ‘Happy Birthday’ was played very loudly, … Read more
I am Jeni Barnett, I have been since I scribbled all over my rough book at school arriving at one ‘N’ one ‘I’ and two ‘TT’s’. Jeni Barnett was the bird on page three of ‘The Pigeon Fanciers Gazette’, and twas she who was front page news in Iceland’s equivalent of the Hafnarfjörður Herald. For … Read more
Each bay in the dialysis unit has televisions above the bed so we’ve all seen Bannon and Musk with their Nazi salutes, testing the sensibilities of confused Republicans. Germany titillating the far right and Badenoch slipping between the sleazy sheets of Farages populist policies. Even us invalids are watching intently. My liberal friends start every … Read more
The cats on the table next to me and the computer he is soaking wet. The rain is tip tapping on the skylight and the old git has gone to bed. I’ve cleaned the kitchen so the cleaner can get on with other things and I’ve read most of the papers. Last night I watched … Read more
The tree went up, the tree came down. Christmas was a blaze of visiting revellers from Boxing Day to Twelfth night. The local ones brought flowers and a Christmas cake, as we ate Piccalilly and left over turkey. Hampers of goodwill were brought into the cottage. The South London lot carried in chicken and trifle. … Read more
8 days before Crimbo and, I am in the swim of dialysis. I said I wouldn’t need it, wouldn’t take it and it wasn’t necessary but, what do I know… I have finally surrendered to the onslaught of physical breakdown. The shame and humiliation of being breathless and incapacitated hit me hard. Up until July … Read more
I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am no longer who I was. For 75 years I did what I wanted when I wanted to. I ate what I wanted I slept when I wanted I walked and danced and hustled my way through a busy, working life. And then in … Read more