When I’m 64

I was shamed into writing this by the delicious Jamie kelsey Fry, who graced my show this morning.
Megan and Louise wrote a book about teenagers, and equipped themselves so well as did my last guest Robbie Hance, who sung himself on and off the X factor. He came into the BBC London studio with his new manager, mother of three who had never done anything of the like in her life. Her heart led him to the man without a home .
She and two others have given him a dream to hold onto.
We were lucky enough to be part of his journey. I wish him every bit of luck that is coming his way.
It was a wonderful way to spend a birthday morning.
I decided to drive in, the snow blobbing down with the arrogance of the untouchable. It doesn’t matter how much the cold and chill is whistling around the hard times there ain’t nothing I can do about it so I wrapped up in a very old blue and yellow anorak, wrapped a scarf around my neck, put on two pairs of socks and whizzed past Sevenoaks.
Nibbled on peanuts I had in my pocket. I felt like a blue tit.
The radio – without Aled Jones – is dull. So I station hopped and ended up with a Bach Cantata that made my hairs stand on end.
The divine Miss Esther drove the show like a demon. I had a bowl of porridge. You take the lift to -1 and enter the world of the BBC canteen. The smell of baked beans wafts up the ramp as BBC staff sit round tables noshing toast and talking scart plugs,

I tried not to stare at the famous newsreader for too long, he looked as miserable off air as he does on. But then who could be happy reading the news we have today.
I had to drive home via Battersea as The Old Kent Road was cordoned off due to some incident. Blue and white tape all over the road and me having to negotiate a new route at 7.20 in the morning. – a serious incident I’m told by the colour of the cordon – I ended up driving down East Street market, which I think was illegal. But nobody caught me as they were too busy clearing up the mess on the Old Kent road.
Driving past the old flat still disturbs me. It’s not the loss of the flat so much as the dream like quality of ten years of my life that came and went.
Birthday – 64 – should I have told the nation quite how old I am? I had a flash of insecurity, would it affect my career path. At my age my career is exactly what I make it, so the path can go wherever I take it. Ner ner ner to anybody who says different.
I got home to the dawter, her God Mother and the ‘oosbind. I opened presents and cards. Apart from flowers, books, pens, notebooks, apart from ceramic bowls and bath bubble, soap and a lipstick stuck to a hand delivered card, I had a strangely brilliant hand made cupboard made from found wood and old piano parts, wrapped up in a box that came all the way from Shropshire, and ALL the MADMEN CD’s which arrived in time from Germany.
Th drive to Brighton was calm and quick and our table in The Setting Sun was set for seven of us. We all ate different versions of a roast, Pork, Beef, Chicken and Lamb. The old git broke his 40 days of no drinking with a rich red Merlot, and I ordered three different types of pudding which we shared.
Back to the middle daughters house for a huge chocolate cake that Jim bought. Candles and a log fire. More presents then home.
Off went the Godmother, off came my clothes, on went the kettle, on went the TV and now at 9.00 I’m nearly 65.
First ever birthday without a mother. B provided the daffodils since all mine have, for the second year, refused to flower. My birthday gift to myself is to garden this year. always a promise I break. I want the colour and cornflowers without any of the digging and hoeing.
Look I am now in a different league. The Beatles wrote the song about being 64 when I was young enough to believe that 64 would never happen.
Well it just has and its better than being dead.
THANK YOU to everyone who sent me such lovely messages, called and facebooked, tweeted and generally made my day.
All we need now is some warmth and sunshine and it will feel like spring.
I now have to watch Corrie, eat some supper and sit with the man and child and bask in the last few hours of birthdaydom.

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