Well I don’t know about you, but I feel as nutty as a fruit cake. But then they say that happens with the full moon, don’t they? Whoever those they are. The Moon is staring at me through the window. Just hanging there like a big white dinner plate.
Today I drove back to the cottage from the Capital City. Had Mr. Bibby fiddle with my cranial fluid. He finally gave me he go ahead – I can run 5 minutes every other day. I’m not complaining. Every little journey starts with a tiny little step.
Saturday night on the wireless was tricky. Lyn Hall came up from Gloucester and Jenny Rea came across from Ealing.
Lyn Hall had a carrier bag with jars of home produce and Jenny Rea (to rhyme with tea) had a crate of M&S summer drinks. We ate and drank on the radio with me fielding more bits of paper than in a Bombay skip.
I will get used to it but right now I know as much about creating a radio programme as I do about performing keyhole surgery on a wildebeest in the dark with my tweezers and a battery-operated headlight.
This evening I walked the dog rapidly – it was the two coffees my friend Annie had bought me in the Pantiles. She was wearing torpe, and I red. Guiseppe couldn’t take his eyes off Annie’s torpe-idoes whilst I downed my two cappuccinos and remembered my holiday in Italy last year.
The drive down from London was easy. I listened to ‘You and Yours’ and a woman from Asda Supermarket trying to justify her paymaster’s ruination of town centres. Then I heard about the plight of mobile home owners. Next, Radio Two and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Then LBC and Jim Davis talking to a bloke about real food.
I arrived home in time to prepare and ate a little cottage cheese salad before setting off for my afternoon duties.
Sunday was dead low key with a coffee in ‘The Fresh Bean’ in Streatham, a noodle in the noodle bar opposite, a walk to the Buddha in Battersea Park, and a pint of Weisberg in The Castle.
By the time it got to bedtime, I was all noodled out.
The Saturday show had been playing on my mind, but all will unravel as Mr. Lowrie teaches me how to spin the air waves.
It’s nearly 11.00 and I feel sick from too much caffeine and not enough H20.
So, if you will forgive me, I shall leave you with this example of a joke with two meanings.
A woman goes into a pub and asks for a double entendre.
So the barman gave her one.