Beduin Blues

The snow has melted on the tree tops but its still a crunchy walk to the studio.
Yesterday couldn’t get into town for the theatre as all the trains were frozen to the tracks.
Today I was meant to be going to see LESLIE JORDAN at the Leicester Square Theatre but our driveway is treacherous and I still don’t trust the trains.
I have been writing in the attic, wearing my pj’s, two pairs of woolly footwear, one vest and two back braces.
Woke this morning, bent over to water a plant and straightened up to a groan.
Three ‘Nurofen’ later I am fine. Please don’t let it by me Zumba thats doing it. The old git told me to dance lightly on my toes.
Thank you Len Goodman…..
I made delicious pan fried cod yesterday, today I had to spray with the cheap and nasty Febreze to get rid of the fishy odour.
So now have completed Potty Politics No. 10. Will set about eleven and twelve, then lay Miss de Mina to rest for a bit.
Have another idea for Jim, and will continue writing my comedy drama with my partner.
Getting something commissioned these days is tantamount too travelling to The Sahara Desert to set up a meeting with the Tuareg in the hope that they be able to find a camel or two to fund the project.
Mind you being a nomadic Beduin for a bit appeals to me. I wonder whether I should give up the whole shabang and take up residency as the comedic interlude somewhere in the Wilderness – which is how my industry feels at the moment.
Don’t do anything yet, I’m told by all my esoteric crankies, Mercury is in retrograde and all the planets are lined up.
To do what? I ask
Lined up for their milk ration?
For a coronation spoon?
Or a P45?
Mmmm….hurry up Mercury need a change.