Rats and Calls

I’m meant ot be going to TENDER’s charity do tonight in Soho.
I say I’m meant to be going but I do what I always do, put on my pj’s and then oscillate between conscience and armchair.
I’ve no excuse really.
I am understanding the show better, day by day, why I even went out for a pre-broadcast-power-walk.
My ankle isn’t totally better so running is still out of my reach but this morning I had ten minutes up to Battersea bridge and ten minutes back. The light was luminescent, the river dazzling and the boats by the bridge stood out in bold relief.
I had to walk really fast, my hands started out freezing, by the time I got back to the flat I was toasty warm.

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Soggy Tuesday

‘Caught some of Monday’s broadcast, the bit about make up.
About a year ago I watched a TV programme about troops liberating concentration camps after WW2 and one of the female survivors said that one of the officers managed to get lipsticks sent to the camp for the women, and that act of kindness made them feel like human beings again. It made me cry. So now every time I apply lipstick I’m reminded of that.
Love June.’
June’s blog made me realise that everything has a meaning, and that nothing is out of bounds.
I started feeling just a little complacent today, by that I mean I was relaxed.
I have to keep myself in check otherwise smugness creeps in, then you can kiss goodbye to a listenable programme.

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dy1wk 2

I had the same sort of heebie jeebies that I had last week, only this week I got in an hour later.
According to received wisdom, getting in too soon can make for a stale performance.
It’s like over rehearsing a song, or bashing away at a speech.
Taking too many bits of paper into the studio and writing a script doesnt work either, it’s about being as natural as you can be..
So I took advice and pootled around the flat until 11.00.
Made calls to two washing machine outlets, one for the flat and one for the cottage. When the new bits arrive I will be clean in London and Sussex, a relief for me and the old man let me tell you!.

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Fourth day

I had a different kind of nerves to day. I was convinced it would all go belly up. But it was just a morbid fantasy. We talked sex on the internet, Hilary Clinton’s crying, dinner parties and neighbours from hell. I’ve had two Marmite rice crackers, one avocado, a cup of Rooibosh tea and made … Read more

3 times a DJ

I’ve got a bowl of steaming broccoli and hummus.
The inside of my head is calming down.
B and N are dropping for two minutes, she did her holiday university work and lost in on the computer – yuk I hate the tinternet.
Di, my little roomie, is working in her room, Dan is in Soho, and I’m about to take off my clothes and chill for the rest of the evening.
Day three was pretty much as I expected, all there, not so intense, but still riddled with pot holes.
But I’ve found a routine for my fob, a routine for my hands-free and a routine for my belly.

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lunchtime slot

For those of you who want to listen LBC is on 97.3. I’m on air from 1-4. and for the short term on Sunday’s 3-5. Go to lbc.co.uk and click on the massive button that says listen live, if you’re listening on line and apparently it tells you how to listen again if you want … Read more

Numero Uno

I arrived at LBC by 10.30’sh, having already had a new battery fitted in my car, done a big GREEN shop for food and tested the garage doors to see if they were working – they were.
Apart from the new battery being too big for my boot, all was well.
I sung along to Whitney Huston, bopping in my seat and clapping along to her wanting to dance with somebody, and nipping in and ot of the traffic to Shepherds Bush. One quick manouver down St. Annes Rd, and I arrived at LBC in time for a bowl of fruit and a chinwag.
My producer arrived and we set about the first ever programme.

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Assaulted Batteries

This morning I made scrambled eggs, the Bill Grainger way, with loads of butter and cream. Hot bagels, smoked salmon and the freshest coffee you’ve ever tasted.
1 baby,1 mother, 1 father, 1 grandpa and 1 wicked step mother sat down and devoured the lot, in less than an hour.
We exchanged the last of our Christmas gifts and I set off for London for the forseeable future.
My car wouldn’t start.
Jonfan from next door jump started me, I cried, kissed Jim and off I went.

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It’s fifteen minutes past the midnight hour.
I’m waiting up to sing Happy Birthday to my girlfriend in New York.
Pammie is sitting down, with 15 friends, at 7pm in Brooklyn. I should have been at the table but this weekend was critical for both of us, me for the new job and she for reaching half a century.
I’ve sent her gifts.
When I was 50 I had nine women round my table in the cottage, each one from a special point in my life.
B and her friend Jessie waitressed whilst my friend Annie cooked. I asked for a 7 course meal all the colours of the rainbow. We had indigo potates if you please.
My women travelled from all parts of the Globe, Pammie flew in from New York with a huge black case on wheels.
After the first bottle of champagne I allowed everybody three complaints they could share with the rest of us.
Between the nine of us we covered, varicose veins, M.E., lower back pain, tennis elbow, writers block and piles.
We laughed so much that by the third bottle of bubbly my guest from Devon could hardly contain her incontinence.

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1-4 from 7-1-8

Dear bloggers all,
Firstly let me say thank you to all of you for your greetings.
Secondly I hope you have all returned to some form of normality – whatever that is.
And thirdly, I hope you will have the decency to avert your eyes as I have dis-robed.
As some of you will be aware I have been clawing my way up the greasy pole of radio.
I slept with as many people as was necessary.
I bribed those of influence.
I networked my way round the bars and drinkings holes of the high and mighty.
It all paid off because just before Christmas I had a phone call from Rob the Agent.
‘Are you sitting down?’ he enquired.
I was indeed perched on a chair at the kitchen table due to my still insulted ankle.
‘How do you fancy five days a week starting on January 7th. Every lunchtime 1 through till 4..
I know I yelped because Jackson looked up from his bean bag.
I jumped up the better to sit down again.
‘How do I fancy it?’ Jim put his thumbs up, Jackson barked his appreciation. ‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’ I retorted.
At 5 o’clock the following morning I awoke thinking I was a victim of an elaborate hoax.
Rob the Agent called.
‘Has it sunk in yet? he beamed.
‘Am I the victim of an elaborate hoax?’ I asked.
‘The final details are being discussed today.’ said my very cool negotiator. ‘Have a good Christmas and sort yourself out for January.’
Rob hung up, I hung up. Jim stood up. I sat down. Jackson got up. I stood up. Jim sat down. Jackson sat down. I sat down. Jim stood up. I jumped up knocked over a glass of cranberry jiuce and hobbled to the sink for a sponge.
Jim left for the theatre, the door slamming behind him.
2007 had come to an end with a bang

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