Jeni Barnett

Gratitude

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To you all, a big thank you for your love and support. Last night I didn’t sleep at all, watched the National Television Awards, from the comfort of my bean bag and two hot water bottles. Given that the awards are voted on by ‘Sun’ and ‘Heat’ readers, it’s not surprising that the whooping and … Read more

Me and my shadow.

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Put on a big puffy jacket, had my pyjamas and thick socks over my suede clogs, and left the house in the frosty morning. The earth was hard, paw prints frozen in the mud. The grass white and crusty. Sounded like I was walking on cardboard boxes. A strip of pink announced the morning. My … Read more

JANUARY 10th 2016

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8.45 on a Sunday morning. January 10th. There’s a light grey stillness outside, all the decorations have been swept up and the cats are waiting to be fed. Him and her are asleep upstairs. Later on we’re driving into Hackney to collect some things, then drive home again with a boot full of creativity. It … Read more

Sniff and Tell

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Two parcels to post, so I drove down to the local Post office. The postman, a delicious Asian man, with long pointy fingers and the patience of Meher Baba, weighed the boxes, put them in a sack and wished me a very good Christmas. I wanted to buy his lifesize skeleton for the dawter but … Read more

Central Line

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This morning I took the 10.09 train to Charing Cross sans hot water bottles which have been pressed to my body for nearly two months. Pain and more pain have been my constant companions since October 5TH. I’ve seen more medical practitioners than an episode of Holby City – but looks like I’m finally out … Read more

Pain

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Annus horribilis. February 22nd I broke my arm. Lingering chest infection from American airlines and air con. A collapsed back from July to October. And just when i thought it was safe to go back into the water on October 5th I got Shingles. I was told by my health team that it was a … Read more

Lanzascrottie

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How grateful the dawter and I were to be able to get a week away in Lanzafeckingrotty. The constant criticism is the curse of the Western traveller……… The Lava walls were everywhere, the landscape bleak and Barron. The beds too small and the 20X12 room so basic I knocked everything off my pillow side shelf, … Read more

October sun

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The rain has arrived. The grey clouds have made the cottage feel dark.
The Camellias, outside the door have rainwater dripping off their leaves.
All day, drip, drip, drip.
The heater is on in the bath room.
I have been hugging a hot water bottle and wearing thick woollen socks.
I have been drinking hot soup and dreaming of sunshine and warmth.
1.00 a.m on Thursday 15th.
I’ve packed a small red case.
1 black swimming costume.
1 red bikini
1 patterned bikini.
The patterned one is so old it looks like those Airtex knickers we wore in the 60’s, the ones that stretched out of shape.
The red one was bought in 2010 when I cashed in my pension to get us out to Costa Rica. I had lost loads of weight – due to the end of GFL – and had bought the red bikini as a testament to my new body. Whilst sunning myself on the terrace, the hammock swinging in the breeze, the palm trees swaying, the howler monkeys howling, the old git looked at me and said.
‘I don’t know who you remind me of.’
I thought it must be Ursula Andress walking out of the waves towards 007.
‘I know.’ he said. I waited…..
‘Who?’ I nudged.
‘Ghandi.’
He called me Goosey for the rest of the trip.
So I’m taking Airtex, Ghandi and a black swimming costume that is tighter than a tight pair of Spandex. I should care it’s just me and the dawter overlooking the Atlantic and dodging the hailstones. I understand the Jet Stream is splitting in two and one fingerling is heading straight for the Belariacs.
I have packed my writing notebook, a reading book, a phone charger, a pair of shorts and three other items. I have a plastic bag with my questionable bottles and a little bag with remedies for hangovers, sickness and panic attacks……

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Radio Sussex

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The garden table is full of windfalls. Half the apples are brown waspy mush the other half shiny green and red. I’m working on Radio Sussex this week so gardening duty is out. It’s a 6.00a.m. start. Shower, dressed, torch to the car. Headlights on and I’m off. I put on Radio 4 on and … Read more

Mists and mellow fruitfulness.

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The leaves are turning from green to red. From green to yellow. From green to pink.
Yesterday I drove to Brighton and sat in for Danny Pyke on Radio Sussex, he’s broken his collar bone. I’m sitting in for Danny again on Monday, and possibly all week.
My front tyre was flat, so called ATS, they were chockah, the old git said to pop in on the way back and make an appointment. They told me to come back at 4.00.
Got home and lay on a quilt in the garden. The hot October sun lulled me into a deep sleep.
When I awoke I had missed the appointment.
Sat at the end of the garden in the middle of the bending Borage, the slug eaten cabbages, the monumental dahlias, so big and white they look like they are made out of porcelain, sat on the bench in the sun and re-made an appointment for today. The boughs bending from the ripening apples, the lemon balm and sage as bushy as they could be. The runner beans, the courgettes, beetroots and carrots still throwing out their fruits.

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