Jeni Barnett

It’s already tomorrow and I haven’t been to bed yet.
I went to North London early this morning. Victoria Tube Station was jam-packed with commuters standing, long-faced, at the ticket barriers, as the screens showed hoards of morning travellers shoving themselves into carriages. Nobody was allowed onto the platforms until there was space. Full trains wizzed through. The announcer told us to be patient…
Japan here we come I thought, it wont be long before we have volunteers pushing weary workers into carriages, all clutching their free papers, all readng the same nonsense, all arriving at their work places exhausted before the day has begun, all swigging cold coffee through the little hole in the top of their paper mugs.
I turned tail and took the circle and district line instead, changed at Westminster and walked to the Jubillee line.
Westminster Station feels like a futuristic film set. Huge pipes, steep escalators and lots of female parliamentarians with briefcases and trainers.
I arrived at my appointmet fifteen minutes late.

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Today I am walking to Buddha – sounds like a Bruce Sprinsteen song – The Buddha who sits facing North, South, East and West on the South Side of Battersea Park. If I run it takes 12 minutes, if I walk it takes as long as it takes.
People meditate on the steps, exercise on the steps, take photographs on the steps or walk their dogs around the steps. I shall just go and muse for a moment.
I shall put on my walking shoes and take a slow mosey down past the boats, smell the river, feed the geese, marvel at the ability of life to continue on around me, as if nothing has happened, and remember to breathe. It’s a New York kinda day – now I sound like Billy Joel – blue skies, cold air and a whiff of expectation.

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To Glen, and all of you, yes I’ve received your wonderful comments. It feels as if I am always in turmoil. What if one day I posted really good news up, none of us would know what to say…
I am now in the middle of a full blown cold – inevitably. Sunday has been snappy and friendly. I shopped for veg this morning then we visted two of our lovely friends who have renovated a barn. I knew I wss feeling more positive because I didn’t feel green with envy, just a little lime. They have an oak tree that is so big, and female, I hugged it for just a little two long.
Because of three sneezes a minute I look pale and drawn. I have lipstick and blusher on so now I look like Jane, in the ‘Whatever Happened To Baby’ film. Me and Bette Davies look like kissing cousins.
My wonderful landlord is helping me out for two months so I can keep in the flat and look for work. He has to be the most understanding, generous geezer on the planet…
I’ve just had two mugs of chicken soup – homemade – one pear and a carton of coconut water. Not to mention a teaspoon of Manuka honey. The soup – Jewish Pennicillin – has helped my chest. The fact that its soup means I can dupe myself into forgetting that chicken is actually meat otherwise my body would be crying fowl play.
The old git and I are arguing.

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I’ve just come back from my osteopath who said my body feels like its been slapped in the face.
Your comments have made me cry.
Thank you – not for making me cry but for bothering to write at all. Even the bad comments were good.
I will of course get over this quicker than most but slower than I would like.
The professional response would be to let it go since its the kind of behaviour you would expect from such a callous industry. I thought radio was comfy, cosy, I had no idea just how brutal it could be. I have worked in my industry for 40 years and it never ceases to amaze me the endlessly creative excuses the bosses come up with to justify their acts of unkindness.
To everybody who has faced a sudden redundancy my heart goes out to you.

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I have had a really bad stomach upset over the last two days. Nobody told me that the remedy contained morphine…The result is I am dry of mouth, bleary of eye and concrete of stomach.
The last few days have been a whirlwind of wierdness.
One minute I have a regular rhythm to my life the next I am standing at the gates of Bedlam.
Seka Nicolic was laying her hands on me to get my left leg back to working order after my crazy fall in Battersea Church Street, I had intended to go to her book launch, but the gremlins got into my system and I felt like somebody had crumbled Garibaldi biscuits in my eye-lashes.

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I’ve taken Arnica, rubbed arnica cream into it, taken three Neurofen and am sitting on an ice pack. I tripped by Battersea Square as I was thinking about a girl who had tripped in Battersea Square….
I cried and thought I had broken my hip. But I am assured by Jim, Sybil, Lyn and my instinct that it’s just a bad bruise.
I’ve been waiting for something like to this happen, now that it has I can relax. Him, her and me all hobbling.

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In the middle of brushing my teeth the telephone rang. 7.40a.m. and my personal trainer had arrived early. Dripping with blue toothpaste I let her in, finished my ablutions then set about learning how to use a dumbell. I’ll end up looking Madonna if i’m not careful.
Nina left at 9.00 I changed into real clothes and set about my day.

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