Jeni Barnett

Whether it’s Sop or Suppa, Soupe or Soup, we all have our own version of a liquid hug. Eight thousand years ago the Ancient Romans slopped onion soup into their red brick slip ware, old Germans ladled their leek and karoffel suppa into gold rimmed porcelain, whilst the Vietnamese feasted on Pho. Chinese archaeologists unearthed … Read more

In 1988 I did a screen test for London Weekend Televison – LWT. A trip to Southbank, a piece to camera, an interview and then a wait for the outcome. I got a phone call from Maeve, the producer, saying they loved what I’d done BUT… “I looked like a pile of shit.” I offered. … Read more

I went to the dentist. I had chipped my left front tooth and wanted it filed down so it was the same size as the right front tooth. I went to the dentist and sat in the empty souless waiting room. No magazines just a big screen slide-showing adverts flogging teeth whitener, cosmetic dentistry and … Read more

They call Gaffer tape Duct Tape in the US. We used it when we had a band. Strong, durable and perfect for covering up cables and sticking together battered instruments. It comes in many colours and if you bite into it it rips into a nice, straight line. The 45th commander in sheath could use … Read more

I put on an old blue anorak, pulled up the hood, tugged on thick socks that were a gift from a Portland contributor when we filmed there, squeezed into my heavy walking boots, took my glasses off, snuck them in the front pocket of me anorak, and set off for a walk. The rain pushing … Read more

The Global village is too damn big. None of us know what we should be doing in this massive overgrown village of ours. I don’t think there should be systematic killing or genocide or enforced sterilisation I just think we have to start thinking small. Not so small that a mouses squeak is a roar. … Read more

I’ve just been informed by my historical friend that Elizabethan hats were an essential part of clothing for men in the ‘Peacock Age’. That they were, in fact, required to wear their headpieces, along with their codpieces, at dinner. The old git has a panoply of hats; straw hats, deerstalkers, Russian military ushankas, a collection … Read more

A coffee in the park. Breakfast in the garden. The tomatoes are beginning to turn red. The dawter is cooking dinner. The old git’s car is still in the garage, it’ll cost the same as a fleet of Skoda Karoq’s. I walked the orchard and found a golden delicious windfall, sweet and crunchy. But there’s … Read more

It takes one hour and thirty six minutes to travel twenty miles from Crawley to our local Waitrose. Every Friday, come rain or shine, Anna makes that journey to stand outside the back doors of Waitrose – used to be the front doors but Covid closed them – and wearing her headscarf and an engaging … Read more