Jeni Barnett

In 1988 I auditioned for London Weekend Telly, got married to the old git after eleven years of living sinfully, and started a four and half year run of feasting before the inevitable famines. We made gardening programmes, life style programmes and whilst I was taken off sitting alongside Frank Bough every Friday on ‘Six … Read more

May 12th. 2022. My mother would have been 100 years old today, as it is she contacts me from wherever she is and tells me she has forgiven me for putting her in a home and finds it incredibly funny that the dawter ate her ashes when we chucked her, thats the mother, into the … Read more

April 28th and off we went to the bluebell woods down the road and across the fields Let me tell you, even the cries of an egomaniacal Ruskie with small eyes and an imperfect brain, could not detract from the beauty that a field of bluebells brought. Over the first stile felt like walking into … Read more

It was a dusty day, you know when everything seems shrouded in mist. Soft, as the Irish would say. A pinky sun shone through a thin cloud on crops of dandelions, banks of bluebells, merry go rounds of primroses and crowds of faded daffodils. Our Hastings jaunts have been curtailed by Covid outbreaks, Easter holidays … Read more

I don’t know about you but I dont know what day it is. April is nearly in the middle and my head is full of easter eggs, missed birthdays and Putin. I try not to think about his disgusting antics, I try not to think about Rwanda and our racist government, I try not to … Read more

When I was in my early twenties I worked with Ken Campbell, a man of uncommon intelligence and a genius eye. He wanted me to study ventriloquism. ‘No thanks’ I said. He wanted me to study talking through a dummy and holding the stage. ‘No thanks’ I reiterated. The dummy looked like my father. I … Read more

So all the bulbs that I planted are now popping their buds. Narcissi, double daffodils, hyacinths and rose quartz tulips that I plunged into a butlers sink. The magnolia tree is magnificent in the sunshine, the forget-me-nots have taken over the borders and the hellebores are lolling their white and pink heads. The old git … Read more

No road trip today. Hastings happened last Saturday. We drove, with Norman guiding us, to Hastings Old Town. And a pretty place it is too. We went to the ‘Stables Theatre’ to see a play about Gangstas. We went with people who had been gangstas. The play drew in a capacity audience, including the screenwriter, … Read more

I sleep with Putin in my head. I dream that I fly a missile over the Kremlin and drop it on top of his head. I dream I take a pot shot and shoot him in the forehead. I dream I only maim him so he doesn’t become a martyr. I have nightmares of living … Read more

It was 1977, punk had exploded and we formed a band. A saxophone, two guitars, a bass, a set of drums and me on keyboard and vocals. It was 1977, I was 28 and the new Northern squeeze was 34. He played rhythm guitar and at a push drums. As an itinerant theatre group we … Read more