Jeni Barnett

Season of mists and mellow white socks. Autumn, as a child, spoke of shiny shoes and possibilities. Walking to school, kicking shiny brown conkers and sucking blackberries off the bushes. The smell of soft leather and the excitement of a new beginning. Today I had a sense of autumn, when the rain came there was … Read more

When I was on the radio I didn’t know how I felt until I heard my voice. Any opening salvo required me to listen to myself. I often surprised myself. Even if I felt sludgy my voice revealed something different. There was a lightness of touch. I would breathe. There was some humour I breathed … Read more

Worra palava. When somebody dies that’s the end of it. Except it isn’t. The will, death certificates, unpaid monies from our ISA , which I think is about tuppence halfpenny. It doesn’t phase me, it just makes me fidgety and irritable. Endless bits pf paper through the post asking for signatures and fuck knows what … Read more

The old git wanted an Eastern European song, at his funeral, sung by his three dawters. Close harmony with discordant intervals. I drove my kid down to Brighton and dropped her off. It was hot and sunny. Very hot and very sunny. Brighton was scorching. I drove left at the Pier, towards the Marina. Squillions … Read more

It’s been a month since the old git flew the nest. A little robin visited perching on the back of the garden bench and hopping around on the garden table. Sid decided to satisfy his cravings and kill it. We couldn’t be angry with the cat, he’s missing the ‘oosbind too. So now we await … Read more

32 days since the old git passed. People ask me how I am. ‘Fine.’ I say mechanically ‘Really I am. Fine.’ I put the telly on to watch Wimbledon. Endless commentators talking about Serena Williams, and her age and her career and her comeback. John McEnroe said something and I caved. I broke, after 32 … Read more

The inevitable happened. After years of treatment, years of discomfort. The old git finally gave in. He was 6stone 10lbs and weak. He didnt shave so he had a white wispy beard. He took to his bed and slept. From morning till night. He didn’t move. Maybe a shuffle here and there. He stopped eating. … Read more

I’ve just got back from a 70th birthday party. I sat on a garden settee surrounded by young folk, elderly gentlemen and retired nurses. I sat with my hands clasped like a genteel spinster, which I sort of am now. Looking up at the luscious canopy of friendly trees. The catering was sublime. Choux buns … Read more

The dawter was 2, the old git 44 and I was 40. I found the video of the surprise party, with all our friends, who had come together in the garden. I smoked roll ups, had luscious black hair. Th oosbind was funny and strong whilst the dawter was more cute than cute. As you … Read more

For twelve years I didn’t know what an evening was. Well not in the way that most people have evenings. The ridiculous life of an actor meant that evenings were all about entertaining others, if you’re lucky enough you find a tribe to work with. At school I was guided by Mr.Rangely who grabbed my … Read more