Jeni Barnett

I don’t watch jungle capers I don’t watch ‘Honey G’ I don’t watch ‘Made in Chelsea’ I don’t watch ‘Dine with me.’ I don’t watch pointless gameshows I don’t watch gambling capers I don’t watch politicians Lying over papers. I don’t watch bitchy housewives I don’t watch ‘Jordy Shore’ I don’t watch naked dating I … Read more

Yellow leaves, red leaves, no leaves, green leaves. The oak tree outside the bedroom window is practically naked. November – one week to go till December – and I’ve found a new eatery – in the next village. Twee, said the dawter. It’s airy, light, walkers, dogs, old people, single people, groups of people, young … Read more

The pundits talk and punt. The speculators talk and speculate. The politicians talk and politicise. The winners win The losers lose And the talk goes on. The magnanimous forgive, the disillusioned dissolve, the spirited move on. The wind blows, the rain falls, the sun elbows the clouds out of the way and life goes on. … Read more

The stove is stoving, the light is fading and the fruit basket is full of windfalls. The washing’s ironed, the carpet’s vacuumed and the draining board is shiny. The ‘oosbind’s pottering, the dawter’s driving and the tickets are booked for the flicks tonight. The old git bought me two Norwegian walking poles. We crossed the … Read more

One week later the Cholla, chopped liver, Gefilte fish balls, bagels, egg and onion, Shepherds Pie, Macaroni Cheese, thirty thousand cakes and 43,000 bags of nibbles have finally left the house. 66 guests, including a dozen radio active children and one visiting dog from next door, have finally left the building. This new year was … Read more

I’m meant to be sleeping but I’m not ready yet. It’s 2.45a.m. I’m in the attic, the clock is ticking, everything else is dead quiet. The mole who is destroying the garden is asleep. The foxes have stopped screaming, and the old git is snoring gently. Yesterday I did my annual hosting for Blind Aid, … Read more

On the hottest day of the year I mounted the 8.17 to London Bridge. My feet froze with the trains air conditioning. I walked out of the train station. The Shard shimmered in the sunlight. I asked an armed policeman where Guys Hospital was. Clutching his rifle he said he had been seconded from Heathrow … Read more

August 2nd and the grey clouds are a backdrop to a wind that belongs in October, or even April. I dream of Harry Smith Beach, in Barbados. I dream of the smell of the ocean. I dream of the smell of freshly barbecued fish on a Jetty in Mallorca. I dream of midnight feasts on … Read more

A bunch of flowers arrived today. Pink and cerise, red and white. The smell so pungent they beat the Philadelphius in the garden. The first shrub I planted when we moved in 32 years ago. A tall man arrived at 11.00. I greeted him. He held a brief case, me my two hot water bottles. … Read more