Sleeping on the Line….

Today I had a bath at lunchtime. Haven’t done that for years.
Lay in the foamy water and forgave myself for my inability to do anything, anything at all. Not even look for the book that gives instructions for my DAB radio. At the moment I can listen to Danny Baker, Ken Bruce or Schuman’s Piano Concerto in A minor on Radio 3. I had the square cube of digital wirelessness next to my bed in the flat, now it sits on the dresser next to the marzipan figurine of me – complete with beauty spot on my left bosom- made by Andrew Nutter when GFL came to an end.
I didn’t collect the dry cleaning. I didn’t go shopping. I didn’t go to the gym, didn’t call people back. The fact is that I am now totally knackered. The move is over so the recovery begins.

Yesterday I drove into Langham Place from the cottage. I had booked myself into Grouchos earlier in the week but figured if I was going to be at home I should be at home and then work out how not to be at home.
I didn’t sleep -any insomnia remedies PLEASE let me know. It’s a bloomin’ nightmare. I think I’m tired, fall into bed and within an hour I am up again and ready to eat, drink and be not so merry.
I set two alarms, after three hours kip I jumped out of bed whilst the old git was snoring peacefully. I set off at 6.30.
Arrived at my desk at 7.45. I didn’t give in to any tiredness. Esther is no longer with me I have a temporary producer and a new one starting in October. So it’s all change everywhere.
Had a great show with Gill Hudson, editor of Readers Digest, Dr. Max Pemberton, who if he weren’t gay I would leave Gods Gift for. Ruby Wax, who joined me to talk about her new show a childrens cookery writer and a delightful young actress from ‘Top Girls’ the play at Trafalgar Studios.
Everybody danced, given that I’ve chose Edmundo Ross as my signature tune, Edmundo was 100 last December, shows you what a bit of cha-cha-cha can do.
I then drove to Old Street for an engagement party on a roof. Had lunch in a bicycle shop. I’ve never seen so many trendy cyclists in all my life. Tight shorts,tight t-shirts, tight little hats and big noise. The restaurant called ‘LOOK MUM NO HANDS’ sells delicious salads, coffee, cakes an cycling gear. It was clearly the borehole for bicycle homies. Tables are shared. The girl sharing with me sat opposite her bland partner and next to me on my right. She talked non-stop and was SO boring I had to put my fingers in my ears, buy 3 extra custard tarts and and crunch my food VERY LOUDLY so that I could shut her out of my head.
I then locked myself into my car -deliberately – put my seat back and slept for nearly two hours.
When I arrived on the roof terrace I told my hostess that I had slept in the car, she shrieked. Thinking I was living out of the back of my little red Nellie she gave me her keys and insisted I stayed with her whenever I needed too.
For two hours I ate cheese cake, cookies, strawberries and Dim Sum, prepared in front of your very eyes, but not necessarily in that order. More cheese cake more Dim Sum all washed down with elderflower cordial with red currants suspended in the jug. It was a very fashionable affair with film makers form Sweden and directors from Tel Aviv. I left when my dungarees started to fill tight.
Sat in traffic in the Aldwych on my way to collect B from Victoria.
I have never been to Victoria Coach Station. It frightened me, everybody felt like an illegal alien. It cost 30p for a loo visit – I had no money – so I visited the smelliest pub situated next to The Arrivals.
I had to hold my nose as I ran up and down the stairs and marvelled that people could be eating their chips and burgers as the smell of ammonia drifited over them.
The dawter cimbed off the 035 bus from Bournemouth bang on time. I have to say that whilst some of the passengers at the coach station are best avoided the staff at the coach station are really helpful and friendly. I grabbed the girls baggage, dodged the hoards of travellers and we set off for home.
Driving past the flat was really tricky although Bee told me to let it go, so we put on her music very loudly and talked about the future
By the time we arrived at the cottage I was so tired I ate two bowls of Jim’s left over pasta sauce with meatballs. Delicious though it was I don’t really eat meat – balls in tomato sauce that’s how tired I was….
Finally I fell into bed. No sleep for the wicked though as I awoke again at 1.30
Pooh pooh and boo-hoo.
I’m told when the routine of living here sets in I will sleep better.
I bleedin’ well hope so at the moment I’m like somebody from The Prudo Street Mission, who’s sleeping on the line. Give me a piece of rope and watch me snooze….