Jackson

Yes, I do have a life but Jim’s doing his last show night. I am all alone with the dog, who’s just had his freshly cooked brown rice and a third of a big tin of dog food. I don’t know what they put in that stuff but sometimes, if I’m in the right mood, I almost want a mouthful.

Actually, that’s not true. But there’s a certain smell…. anyway.

Jackson will be 13 years old on October 22nd. We bought him for our daughter when she was seven. She had it in her mind we were buying her a motor bike – where she got this from is beyond me although Jim is a biker, with a Honda something-or-other, a crash helmet and a very sexy leather two piece that he can just about squeeze into if he lays off the Shiraz.

When she was very little we took her to Stratford Upon Avon to see ‘A Midsummers Nights Dream’. I wanted to talk culture, in-still in her her heritage, and give her a proper start in life. ‘The Bulldog Bash’, a charity gathering for hairy bikers was happening the same weekend. That night as we curled up in our bed and breakfast beds I started a conversation about Hermia and Helena, waiting for her contribution, and a bike screamed past the window.

‘What is it?’ asked her father. ‘A Honda’, she replied. ‘Good’, he said

The next was a BMW, the one after that a Kowasaki and so it went on until she identified the full throttled chorus of a herd of Harley Davidson. Her father was delighted and fell asleep a happy man.

I lay awake musing on my childs up-bringing. Being brought up by a Northern Git of a father who is a musician with a proclivity for wine, beer and bikes probably has some bearing on the fact that she is studying music and spends most of her time researching her subject in the dark subterannean taverns of London.

Anyway, when she was seven she thought Jackson was her motorbike, hugged him and looked after him for all of 12 minutes.

So, it fell to Jim to train him. He spent the first few week of his life in a basket with an alarm clock ticking under a cosy cardigan and a hot water bottle to keep him warm. The dog liked it too!

Jackson is now grey round the edges. Well, aren’t we all? Very well behaved, he asks to go outside and is the only boy in the family.

When we had him castrated, Jim never forgave me. He kept his testacles (that’s the dogs) on the mantlepiece. When we had people over, they would often compliment my cooking. ‘That’s the mutts nuts’, they would say. ‘Oh, No!’ said my husband in his lovely Leeds lilt, as he led them to the fireplace… ‘These are the dog’s bollocks!’ And they were.

I can hear Jackson asking to go out into the garden for a ‘you know what’.

Don’t you hate euphemisms?

Anyway, I’d better let him out.

Have a nice April the first. May b cu2morrer. Depends on the weather.

5 thoughts on “Jackson”

  1. Only you can go from the bard to dog to motrobikes to daughter to jim to bollocks in one go, (all be they animal, maybe Jims next) not only does it make sense but daft too..

  2. Hi Jeni
    Good luck for your last week of GFL. As you can tell from all your messages from us, you are much valued, adored and will be missed. I hope that makes you feel a little better about your lot in life at the moment.
    Having watched several ‘live’ food programmes since GFL on Friday, (featuring many of the chefs and cooks that make regular appearances on GFL) it is blindingly obvious, that the very best of the chefs and their personalities, is brought out by you. Without your input, they and the food they cook have lost their sparkle.
    Lots love and all very best wishes.

  3. I, as most who have placed a comment, have watched GFL from the start. The day I discovered the program was a great day. I can’t remember any programe, on any channel, that makes me smile so much. You are joyful and along with Elton a national treasure. It’s hard to describe how I feel. Watching tonight just makes me feel very sad typing this makes me cry. Who would have thought that a little cookery program on a small TV station could be so important to so many. I’m proud to say that along with a night out on the town clubbing, singing at a concert, dinner with my friends or a hug on a Sunday morning; GFL and Jeni are one of my greatest pleasure. I love the show and the reason I love the show is Jeni Barnett; the best live presenter on the Telly Box. Some one does not know when they have a gem. I hope this is not goodbye and you rise from the ashes of the show and come back to our our screens very soon.
    Lots of Love and Best Wishes
    Paul
    PS Don’t be a TV stranger

  4. Hi Jeni,
    Have been an avid backseat viewer (frontseat cooker) for years and utterly gutted GFL is finishing. I can only asume the bosses haven’t been checking their stats properly. Most of us watch uktvfood essentially for GFL. Much as I love Rick Stein, Keith Floyd, the Tanners, Ching He Huang, Mike Robinson etc there’s only so many repeats of their series’ you can deal with.
    My (‘ackney born) Chinese wife doesn’t cook-even tho both her parents are succesful chinese chefs- (you might say she has an excuse, having been training to be a lawyer for the past 7 years, and supported by yours truly)but I’ve always loved cooking, especially for other people. You can’t beat the look on peoples faces when they feast on your platter (matron!) 🙂
    I cannot emphasise how much you made GFL what it was. I simply could not watch it when you were not presenting, there was no flair, no fluidity and quite frankly no entertainment.
    This post from “Ray h” on the uktv forums sums it up perfectly in my opinion.
    “Have you noticed how flat the show is with other presenters when Jenny [sic]is off, I watch GFL because of Jenny [sic], recipes I can get out of books. She is enthusiastic, irritating, knowledgable, sarcastic, humourous, engaging, forceful, hilarious and makes a fairly dull talk-recipe format into a sparking hour in my day.”
    I do so hope you can move on to better things. The BBC would be be foolish to ignore you and your great talent. How about replacing Ainsley (***!!!*) Harriot on Ready Steady Cook. 🙂
    Love to you both,
    Ben & Yeun san

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