This morning I did my Tibetan Five.
A series of RITES that are done in the Himalayas by people who live very long lives.
5 simple exercises done 21 times, every day, which are meant to keep you limber and lithe.
Bruce Forsythe does them, and look what he looks like.
No comments please.
Anyway I did my 5 rites, meditated then set off for LBC.
The weather was so bright and cheery that I hardly noticed the journey, although to be fair it only takes me 15 minutes, 10 with the wind behind me.
I parked me little red demon and walked across the road into the back entrance of the studios.
LBC is next to a funeral home. The name is chiselled out of grey granite, private ambulances are parked outside, lined up all shiny and black. The Hearses are discreetly hidden away behind closed garage doors.
LBC’s green door is the first one after ‘Kenyons’ memorial services.
Steve and I decided on our top stories.
1 o’clock had us discussing the commercialisation of children. How advertisers target little folk to sell their obnoxious products. Texts and emails came in with stories of youngsters who could sing the ‘HASTINGS DIRECT’ advert all the way through, including the telephone number, with ‘SHEILAS WHEELS’ coming in a close second, What is it with these Insurance companies? They certainly know their clients of the future.
Back in the day we warbled ‘Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses’, and I don’t mean the milk chocolates in the blue box.
At 1.30 Channel Four came into the studio to film DoctorJessen talk about his new series of ‘Embarrassing Illnesses’ which will transmit in April.
Ah! It felt like I had come home, the camera, mik, director.
It reminded me where my spiritual home is. I’ve been a telly animal for 25 years, when that camera light goes on I’m firing on all cylinders.
They are coming back on Thursday.
We are continuing the debate about Breasts: screenings and all things related.
We then tackled Hull University’s findings that anti-depressents don’t work.
All the contributors were informed, articulate and often very touching.
Then I had one of my London discoveries.
I took the tube from Latimer Road to Paddington. A part of London I have no knowledge of.
Four stops and I was walking the long platform onto the main concourse of Paddington Station.
Past Great Western Trains going to Reading, Greenford or Swansea. The buzz, the expectancy, crowds of people rushing around like leaves in the wind.
I loved it.
Out of the main entrance and left onto Praed Street.
It was getting dark, I sniffed my way past cafe after cafe, pastries, take-aways, pizzas and coffee the aromas wafting out onto the pavement.
I happened upon 4 policemen, I repeat FOUR coppers, who were gathered on the pavement. I stopped to ask a question because I could. I wanted to ask four London Bobbies if they could tell me where to go.
I didn’t need to I had a map, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
‘Can you tell me where Southwick Mews is?’ I asked innocently.
They all started at once, fingers pointing, radios squeaking, helmets a-kimbo, exactly, I skipped off.
Right down Norfolk road, tucked away by Star Street was my little mews.
I was visiting URSULA JAMES, hynotherapist to the high and mighty, and now you. She’s bringing out books, how to change your life, how to get thin, all by self-hypnosis.
You all know I am interested in all that mumbo-jumbo.
Her little house is immaculate, ( I am so sorry this is taking so long to write, I am eating green beans with garlic and olive oil,my keyboard is covered in gunk)
I sat in a chair opposite her, put on a pair of headphones, she spoke into my ears and before I could count down further than 147, I was out cold.
What she said was relevent to me and me alone, I would tell you, only I cant remember any of it.
I am to listen to her cd for 21 days – which is how long the synapses in the brain take to form a habit, then I return for another session, another 21 days, another session and shazamm I’ll be a new woman.
I will, of course, keep you informed if the new woman lets me.
The journey back was sublime and funny.
Past the little shops and caffs again. It was like being in Paris.
I cant wait to get back and do some more investigating.
There was even a blue plaque on the wall of St. Marys Hospital on Praed Street for Alexander Fleming, who discovered Pennicillin.
I squeezed onto the tube, a fourteen year old dog was happily sitting in the carriage at his masters feet, who turned, saw me and shrieked.
‘Oh my God, Michael and I love you. How dare they take that show off. Do they pay you residuals? I write for a gay magazine, will you send me a 10×8 picture and sign it for me. Michael and I can put it up in our rogues gallery’.
He pulled out a picture of Michael, in shorts with Marly the dog, looking all swarthy and French, not Marley, Michael.
We climbed out into Latimer Road, he with his orange Sainsbury bags and me with my ego horribly inflated.
I got back to the flat 8 hours after I Ieft it.
Dan, Di and Doodles the dog were poddling around the place, it was good to see them.
I will tell you more of them another day.
I decided the day was worthy of a proper blog. Thank you for being patient. I hate not having the energy to write proper….
maybe Ursula has changed all that.
I’m off now to listen to her cd.