The weather was 25 degrees.
The little red car had its roof down, made for a comfortable drive to LBC.
The show went so quickly. A really swift 3 hours.
Straight to the acupuncturist. After which I made a decision.
Jeni Barnett
North, South, Eats and West.
Dear June, Is my ‘oosbind in mint condition?
What do you think?
He was six years older than me 32 years ago which makes him nearly 92%older than the number you first thought of.
It’s 00.04. Four minutes past the witching hour although it feels like 7 in the evening and I’ll tell you why…..
A Band On Men T!
The rain is here, its not big globules more a continual light spray of wet droplets.
The flat is vey quiet, but not for long…
B and the beau have just arrived.
Jim the oosbind has left for the cottage.
He’s gorn orf an’ left me guvnor. Taken hisself orf to the country on the back of his mighty Honder. Gorn and left me high and dry withart a penny to me name. I am a lawst woman, abandoned wiv only meself to blame.
Not to worry I’ll see him on Friday…
The show…..
I can see clearly now the smudge has gone
I have finally broken my hikers block.
At 7.00 this morning, after a hugely naughty night of champagne, roast chicken and conversation, I hauled myself out of bed, looked at my fallen arches, fallen jowls and concluded I was just a fallen woman so I went back to bed.
At 7.30 I hauled myself out of bed, looked at my fallen arches, fallen jowls and decided that rather than repeat myself over and over again I would get up.
SO…..
Wet Wet Wet
The air conditioning has broken in the studio that I share with James O’Brien.
SO
We are all HOT SEATING in the big studio now.
That means everything has to be picked up swftly before the next occupant takes their seat. Its such a rush that I left my flip-flops under the desk,
Whilst Petrie Hosken & James Hartigan were setting up ‘Drive Time’ I was scrambling around on my hands and knees between their legs….
Comedy and Tragedy.
There’s something wonderful about driving into the centre of London when everybody is driving out.
On Tuesday night I felt queasy, hung over, and not a little irritable, but it didn’t stop me from jumping into the little red car and heading off to Whitehall – actually it wasn’t so much a jump more a careful sidle.
I was going to the press night of FAT PIG, starring Webb, from Mitchell and and Webb, and Kris Marshall from Kris Marshall…
Bank Holiday Madness
Its the end of a BIG four days off.
The cottage feels a little more normal, even though there is a big space where the dogs bed was.
On Friday I collected my newly mended motor, handed over the fancy courtesy car and headed off to a new hairdresser. An ex-body builder who now heals. She does a mean cut and colour, which isn’t mind numbingly expensive, but her healing she does free of charge as she believes her power comes from an invisible force.
She so energised me I drove straight home, hood down, mowed the grass and tossed my hair over the compost – because I’m worth it – by the time I got half way through I was smiling. Damn but I love mowing that lawn, I even gave Marmite Girl a little nod as she sent kind regards for the weekend.
TAKE THAT….
I knew it was going to be tough getting over Jackson, but I didn’t expect melt down.
Jim and I went back to the cottage last weekend..
It was difficult.
The rain turned it into a cliche.
A pod in Lakeside
We traversed embarassing moments and God today. Quite literally from the sublime to the ridiculous. You picked up my mood, how thats possible over the air waves is beyond me, but you did. One week since we put Jackson down, whichever way you bake it that’s what we did. That damn dog is in my … Read more
Crying for England.
Dear, dear bloggers, thank you so much for your Jackson comments, your advice to cry has been noted.
I am booing at any given opportunity so thanks for that.
23.03. Steve will be in bed, and publish this tomorrow. I couldn’t blog any sooner as I was invited to the Young Vic to watch Jane Horrocks in Bertold Brechts’s Good Woman of Sezuan.
I was really looking forward to it.
In the event it was as bad as it could be.