Jeni Barnett

Two days before inaugeration day.

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Made the guest list for my 60th. Found the venue. Sorted the invites. Travelled back from the cottage in my pyjamas. Bought just the one Sunday newspaper. Put in the washing,. Blitzed the cottage. Tidied the flat and now I’m curling up for Sunday evening. night night.

Excuses I have not………

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Yes know I should be ashamed of myself.
I have no excuse, well actually I have, my keyboard kept jumping and missing letters, and my frustration level was so I High I wanted to scream
Yesterday morning, whilst the old git was dressing I complained yet again about the useless nature of my keyboard. May I remind you that I have had to paint in the ‘N’ and ‘L’ in pearlised nail varnish as I’ve worn away the letters. Why the ‘N’ and ‘L’ should give up the ghost I’llllllllll NNNNNNNNNNNNever Knnnnnnnnnnnnnnnow.
There he was semi naked studying my keyboard when I saw the light bulb ping over his head.
A good old fashioned 60 watt light bulb may I add, anyway he turned the keyboard over, opened a flap and took out two batteries.
He replaced them with two new ones and before you could say will you go and put some underpoants on, I was up and running, well up and typing.

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Thorsday

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The Groucho Club, in Dean Street, is my actors club.
Bernie makes life sweet, he hugs me in reception and makes me feel like Lisa Minnelli.
I took Pammie and Paul, who are over from new York. I had a coffee they had wine.
We then went to my favourite Chinese restaurant in China town and had ‘margerine prawns’ which sound offensive but taste divine.
We had a meal for two because the meal for three would have been too much, after which I grabbed a taxi and came home in the fog.

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twitter or be damned

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Cirque Soleil, Sunset Boulvevard two totally different experiences. One was big, in the Albert Hall, acrobats, ropes and headless overcoats, the other small, intimate with a team of actor musicians who somehow managed to make love whilst holding a trumpet. Both recommended. I am,understandably, ready to put on my pyjamas and start work on THE … Read more

2009

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To all of you that have blogged with me, listened to me, watched, and helped me over 2008 have a wonderful New Yea. May the best of 2008 be the worst of 2009. There wil be tails to tell and I will after I’ve finished this delicious fizzy shiraz…. HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL.

Festive excessive

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It appears that I have spent 5 full days buried beneath a mountain of wrapping paper sellotape greeting cards satsumas crackers turkey gammon 112 different kinds of cheese 78 different kinds of chutney and more games than mad mick. My cup runneth over with bubbling juices and juicy bubbly. Would I like to be in … Read more

Undecided of Battersea

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8.41. on a frosty morning. I’ve watered the window boxes on the balcony. Should have put on shoes my feet are freezing. The river looks lovely all the houseboats outside the flat have Christmassy decorations which twinkle at night. I am so busy at the moment, don’t know whether I’m coming or going especially since … Read more

Cold Comfort

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The cold air is winding its way around my calves.
I’ve put the washing on, Jim’s jacket smells of bonfires and has grass stains all over it.
I found one sock still stuck in my boot. How annoying is that?
I watched so many films over the weekend I don’t know whether I am in Berlin or 1978.
I went to see ‘Avenue Q’ tonight – its sweet. American voices, puppets and smoochy transatlantic music. The girl next to me spread over two seats and her crutch got in the way. It was a grey, metal standard NHS one.
I had a cup of soup with the agent and after the theatre set off to the end of end of term party in a a big bar.
The noise.
The small black dresses.
The booze.
The youth.
I came, I went, I squandered…. too much of my time.
It’s 23.54 and I need to get into bed before I completely freeze, the wind has now whipped up to my thighs.

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The Knightsbridge Route

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I walked to Knightsbridge.
Very fast. My orange and black scarf tied tightly and all I needed in the pocket of my feau fur jacket.
I walked over Battersea Bridge, the sharp morning light clear and silver, down Beaufort Street past the strange little Catholic Church. Left onto the Kings Road, past the Bluebird Caff, Heales, Habitat, endless silly dress shops when a number 19 drove past me but I resisted.
Right down past Peter Jones and left down Sloane Street. Gucci, Chanel, Armani, ridiculous prices for boots, shoes and real fur coats. Another 19 came along to taunt me.
My nose was cold but the rest of me was toasty warm.
By the time I got to Knightsbride I was thinking I might be late for my own imposed deadline – as it turned out all was well.
Down onto the tube and I arrived in Leicester Square bang on. The whole trip had taken just under an hour. Three routes in three days. I’ll do another one tomorrow.

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