second leg

I’m waiting for my boarding card to be printed.
Gods Gift is in the studio sorting out the finances, the dawter and bestie are at the shops buying food for the Sunday Roast, I have a pile of clothes with me here in the attic, which has to be transferred to my bedroom, then my suitcase.
I spent all day yesterday trying to open the fecking thing. Couldn’t remember the numbers. The internet helped but still I couldn’t open it.
I tried so many combinations – birthdays, anniversaries, lucky numbers, went through the whole family. I tried sliding the slider and going through a ritual starting with all the ‘0’s then adding each number and feeling whether it was stiffer or loser, still no joy.
The ‘oosbind tried, the dawter and her bestie tried, we closed our eyes and imagined what my mother would have used as a code, since the case was originally hers. Then in the kitchen this morning, the old git standing by the trolley eating his bacon sandwich the girl under a towel steaming her cold, and me with my brain wave. Tried again. Wowser. The catches flew open. Now I can pack for San Francisco and California. Six outfits and a wash bag.
Surprisingly some of my trousers still fit, which is always a bonus.
It has been nuts since I got back. I’ve been sitting in at Radio London but only for three days as the storm grounded me on Monday and Tuesday. No electricity, no trains, no respite.

Finally on Wednesday I drove into London. windows open as I left at 5.30, parked in South Clapham, took the tube and settled down for three hours of chat and controversy.
After the show I had my fringe cut and ate a raw chocolate and kiwi sorbet from the Italian caff opposite. Horrible actaully. Then back to South Clapham for my acupuncturist who set me up for this next trip.
On Thursday I parked in Twells and walked 8 minutes to the station and took the late 6.04. I got to London in time.
On Friday I paid for my parking. The ticket came out but one of the coins had fallen through so I only had three hours parking when I needed a full day. Another four quid, fumbling in the rainy dark, panicking in case I missed the train, then after three deep puddles and a swift walk, I made the 6.18.
When I collected the car at 3.00 the feller that runs the car park – a dear little man who has such a pungent odour I had to step away and move nearer the rubbish bins which were slightly less offensive what with the rain and all – told me to
‘Only put in the right money cos I always check the times on the ticket.’ he said pleasantly.
Parish life.
Sitting in at BBC London is lovely, it hurt when I heard Fiona’s trail for her/my Sunday show but the second time it played I’d adjusted. How shallow am I?
My oldest friend’s son died of an overdose, I got the news as I landed in Heathrow two weeks ago. His funeral is today, I cant get to it but I’m going to his memorial on the 16th.
My makeup artist, who was more like a wife than a colleague. We were like The Odd couple, we spent more time together than Jimbo and I ever do. We drove into work, drove home from work, for nearly ten years. I found out last Sunday that she too had died.
I have her memorial at the end of November.
The two sudden deaths shocked me.
Made me feel/know the fragility of life. Now you see me now you don’t.
Makes me want to stay at home, makes me not want to leave Jim, but I do want to see the Redwood trees and travel first class, and stay in plush hotels. The perks of working with the Travel Channel and the British and american Tourist Boards.
I have never been travelled so well.
I am so grateful for my paid holiday.
Grateful for my family and friends
Grateful for too many apples that are taking up THE WHOLE of the kitchen table.
Grateful for just being here.
Grateful for my overweight belly.
Grateful for my pugilistic daughter.
Just grateful for this time on earth. I don’t know how long I’ve got but I’m sure as Hell grateful for every single second of it.
Ok packing calls. Have a good ten days and cuonmyreturn.