Jeni Barnett

As if things couldn’t get any worse I am now writing one handed. Of course I feel sorry for myself, and for himself and for the dawter who is trying to live her life while everything around her swims into double vision. On last Wednesday I baby stepped to my car, rain lashing my glasses … Read more

My first professional job was at The Watford Palace Theatre. I was familiar with the beautiful theatre as my mother took me regularly to see all sorts. I liked the front row, touching the stage and smelling the grease paint. I went to Watford School of Music aged thirteen. Studying to be a concert pianist … Read more

This morning I went to my cranial osteopath. There are those who think it’s a waste of space and too woo-woo to heal anybody. I’ve been seeing Stuart Korth for 38 years. he treated the dawter from her tiny baby body to now. He is 83 and comes from a family of helpers. He has … Read more

Patches of snow and ice surround the cottage. I hold onto branches and leaves to get me to the garage. Driving to the dry cleaners three times a week is now part of my life. In the winter its dreary and uncomfortable. The lights on my car are the opposite of glaring full beam. Even … Read more

You hug a child and squeeze a granny but you always embrace a lover. You shake hands with a stranger and bow to your elders but with lovers you embrace. You can embrace an idea or an opportunity, you can even embrace Buddhism. It’s the kind of word that embarrassed me when I was younger. … Read more

In this world of exhausting alternatives, there’s nothing more woke than ‘Manifestation’. You can, we’re told, manifest health, wealth, love and perfect self expression, or you can’t. Affirmations and Gurus are now part of everyday life. But, they say, it requires a life time of gratitude to get the angels to bale you out. I … Read more

Royal Tunbridge Wells is home to Beau Nashes’ architecture, the legendary tiles he laid down in the Pantiles and of course Mr.and Mrs.’Disgusted’ who put this affluent town on the map. Not forgetting the creation of Subbutio and Tonbridge Ware, boxes of inlaid wooden marquetry which are displayed in the local library. We moved 6 … Read more

I was born into a bedstting room, a slum. Alie Street, near Aldgate East tube station, had a view of a little Synagogue. When I first started at LBC I was asked my history. Relishing the badge of honour, growing up in poverty, I said; ‘That slum is now an Indian restaurant with less than … Read more

The ‘oosbind has now become an old git. He’s living with cancer and mild dementia, he’s as skinny as a chicken, and ever so slightly distant. It is, however, all deal-able with because he’s still living. A lot of his compatriots have died but he’s hanging in. Thankfully he wasn’t always like this. He was … Read more

I’ve never really been a drinker. Food was the drug of choice for my family. Eating – Yiddish Essn – was a hobby. They say the Italians talk about lunch at breakfast, dinner at lunch and breakfast at dinner. The Jews are the same. Competing for the best chopper liver. The best chicken soup. The … Read more