Areeba!

Tonight I got measured for my dress for an AUDIENCE WITH….
Shakeel has 9 days to buy the material and make it.
I was all of a dither when he was measuring me. Apologising for my lack of waist, width of girth and non-existent six pack.
He was very gentle and understanding and told me had made many dresses for people who had unusual demands.
I felt like Ganesh, all arms, legs and elephant trunks.

The ‘oosbind was up last night helping me.
After I have written this I have to re-read all our notes.
But before I do I have to tell you about Monday night when it all kicked off.
I had been to a retirement do. Everybody from two years ago was there. Everybody who had meant anything to me, who had worked with me, who had worked for me, who had just worked…
Some looked the same, some looked very much thinner and some just looked .
When I arrived the retiree said
‘Oh! I didn’t invite you. I didn’t expect you to be here’. I laughed.
She hadn’t meant it as a slight. I didn’t take it as such.
But I felt a little out of place. I felt like I was an interloper. A huge screen was playing out the last GFL programme and since I had very little to say I spent most of the evening watching myself on the telly. In retrospect it must have looked like I had got myself a front row seat just to watch myself from last April, or maybe it looked like what it was. The end of an era.
I had booked a car to get me there, one hour later I grabbed a taxi to get me away. In the back of the cab I was wondering why I felt so wierd.
Was it because I was now a radio head? Or maybe it was because I was frightened about October 3rd in Lewisham. Whatever it was I felt detached, sad and alone.
I walked into the flat. Donned the old victorian nightdress I have taken to donning, turned on the computer and wandered around a bit whilst it booted up. Most of my emails are work related. Loads of invites to things I never go to, messages from my agent, dreadful forwarded rubbish and the occasional pesonal one.
Having deleted a dozen or so spammy type things I was left with an email from a Mr. & Mrs. A from East Sussex. We had been introduced by a mutual friend back in August but our wires had been crossed, wrong name spellings and little glitches that had got in the way of us talking with each other.
They finally tracked me down and here they were introducing themselves as clairvoyent mediums. As husband and wife they travel the world clearing entities, clearing houses and clearing minds. They work together, their job is their life and their lives are devoted to their job. They had just come back from Italy where they had been guided to exorcise a house that, until their arrival, had been clogged up for years.
Now, back in Blighty Mrs. A decided to listen to me on the radio. Half way through the programme her guide – a 4,000 year old ex-monk from Mexico -told her he wanted to give me a message.
Now you all know I am open to a bit of this and a dab of that but to be faced with an electronic message, that had been dictated through cyber space by a 4,000 year old Mexican geezer, telling me that I was having trouble with a project I was doing at the beginning of October, was a tad shocking. Then to read all sorts of detail about the last few months was, as you can imageine a mite scary.
Did I cry?
You bet your old whazoo I cried. I cried and then I howled. Tears as big as shallots fell from my eyes, I felt like I was going to faint. I could not believe what I had read. I re-read it just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. I howled all over again.
I called up the number Mrs. A, had left at the end of the email. I checked out whether she had talked to anybody about me, I called our mutual friend to establish whether or not she had given out any information. Both said no information had passed their lips. Mrs. A talked me down and the upshot is that on Sunday the clairvoyent mediums are coming to the cottage to take tea and introduce me to a Mexican man who may or may not spill the beans.
I couldn’t work after that experience, but when Jim came up last night I was less stuck.
As Shakeel pulled the tape measure around my body I realised that everything was falling into place – no not my love handles – my first choices of make-up, stylist and stage manager, all of whom initially said yes, pulled out. The ones that are now doing it are all perfect, and all of them have some kind of connection.
When I interviewed LORNA BYRNE about her angel book she told me that there were many unemployed angels that were hanging around just asking to be put to work. So I’ve been chatting away to whomsoever will listen. I’ve no idea whether they are just a trick of the light, but whoever I’m yelling at seems to be listening so I aint knocking it.
If Lorna is right then fantastic, if she isn’t thats okay too,but I cant wait to meet the ‘A’s’on Sunday, anything may happen.
I really must go and do some work now, but I’ll keep you posted if anything else flies in through the window. have a good night.