Soho makes me into one person, Battersea into another and then when I’m home in East sussex I transmogrify into the East End country bumpkin I really am.
It’s 12.30 am, and eleven hours earlier I was in Brighton cheering on my five year old grandaughter in her first sports day.
I was freezing having chosen a fairly affable outfit fit for Pimms in the park, as it turned out my lime green Hobbs jacket and Nike 3 Free trainers, though dashing, afforded me no comfort whatsoever, and I wasn’t even asked to run the granny’s race, since there wasn’t one.
Several young families pic-nicked on the damp grass as the red, blue, yellow and green teams, competed against each other to win a cup.
Maia was in the blue team, they came last – a family tradition….and the rain spitted to compliment the loss.
We went back to my daughters house, played with the two kittens Fred and something unpronouncable, spilt camomile tea all over the floor and left.
Ad Infinitum
Cheers
I decided to go home after ‘Yes Minister’ on Thursday Night.
The roads were empty and I needed to be in the dark, peace of my home.
Arrived by midnight, the old git and I had words – of course – and then I fell into bed. Into my big, soft bed. His feet at the end of it. My pillows still with the indentation of my head from the weekend.
The sound of rain outside. The window open so I could here the splash of rain drops on the oak leaves.
eye eye
Since Tuesday I have been treating a watering eye. I’ve used up more tissues than a tikker tape parade on the fourth of July in downtown Manhattan. I’ve had these drops and those drops, the other drops and then the ones that I spilt on the kitchen table. I have taken this remedy and that … Read more
Does my BUTT look big in this?
Saturday night and sleep eluded me. Utterly deserted me, it went next door and bedded down with Simba the dog, but not one tiny bit of shut eye visited me.
I went to bed early in the hope that I could doze having listened to Clever Trever’s little 9 min. 27 second CD.
Nothing.
Got up and wandered round the flat, watched some BBC IPlayer.
Nothing.
Went back to bed and listened to some music.
Zilch.
Read until my eyes felt heavy.
De Nada.
Got up and made porridge with cuinnamon and agarve syrup. Filled my belly.
Absolutely totally nothing.
Put on The World Service and listened to reporters fropm all over the world giving me info, ideas but precious little respite.
And then the slicing voice of a radio announcer cut through my sleep. At 7.15. precisely an hour and a half later after I had finally dropped off, I had to get up for the 24th Radio Show for BBC London.
I felt ill.
I felt queasy.
I felt really sick.
I had opted to drive myself into Egton House so I could get myself back to the cottage in double quick time after the show. A red people carrier was waiting for me. I knew it was for me, even though it had been cancelled, I just knew it was my driver. Two missed messages confirmed that it was, that it hadn’t been cancelled and the driver was patiently waiting for his pick up. He may still be there for all I know.
Tool strain
all. I am covered in scratches from the rose climber at the ned of the garden First I used a saw like lumberjacks use. Then I used a saw that I could hold – have had to shower the saw dust from my hair, and my fingers aren’t working properly from holding the tool. Too … Read more
June 5th.
A huge demonstration in Hyde Park, commemorating the Massacre of Sikhs in 1984 filed past me. The old, the young, the bearded and the bejewelled, marched under the huge trees.
I cried as swathes of orange turbaned people marched together.
Old women leading the chanting reminding us that the Amritsar massacre saw hundreds of innocent women and children being shot in cold blood, whilst the Sikh prisoners were tied with their own turbans and then shot in the head.
The Army invasion of the Golden Temple left 10,000 pilgrims dead and 30,000 people homeless
Is it not time for us to stop the inhumanity of shortsighted people who are too scared to share the land with others? Some would say its the bi-product of an overcrowded planet. I say let us live in harmony and let Mother Nature do her thing….
Lend me a Tenor….
23.39 Saturday night, the air is balmy and I have three days of journals to write, accounts to do, and some sleep to fit in before tomorrows show.
Today has been, like the rest of last week, as busy as B’s.
I have loved sitting in for Vanessa. I am doing another week this week, I hope it’s as much fun.
I’ve had an assortment of female producers, pregnant ones, married ones, single ones and all perfectly suited to making my life, and the show, fabulous.
They get in an hour before me, scour the newspapers then throw the stories at me. I panic, they get the guests. I panic they get the calls. I panic they get the tea, by noon we are all talked out and ready for an afternoon nap. They, however, continue to work their gorgeous butts off whilst I walk back to the flat or do whatever needs to be done.
Footfall
On my 21st Sunday Show I had Judy James, body language expert, who is so smart she manages to make politics as accessible as ‘The Beano’.
Bill Oddie, talking about being bi-polar, generously revealing all about himself which enabled you lot to talk about yourselves.
The London Gay Mens Chorus – we asked for ten men to come in, about 25 turned up. It was a hoot with dancers, beat boxers and pianists. Our little studio felt like The Chelsea Flower show.
Then Ana Isobel came in to talk about what to plant, what to prune and where to begin this month in the garden, all guided by the moon.
Then I had to dash as I had an event I had to go to.
Verdi and chips.
I hoovered upstairs. He hoovered downstairs.
I ironed and did the washing, he made a bacon sandwich.
I plumped up the cushions in the sitting room he fed the cat.
Then he left and I loaded my car with my books, bags and a glorious bunch of gladioli that B had given me as a thank you for helping her put her car back on the road, she bought her dad four cans of ‘Speckled Hen’ beer!!!
Jim left and I detoured to the farm shop.
Bought 8 spears of asparagus, two tomatoes and a punnet of strawberries.
I nibbled my way through my raw food snack whilst listening to Mike Walkers play on Radio 4.
To Freeze or not To Freeze….
I’m sitting in for Vanessa for two weeks so I have taken this week out to be at home.
It’s been lovely.
All three of us have been here, the daughter and husband have been writing and I’ve been reading and sitting in the garden looking at the flowers.
We have so many different coloured grandmothers bonnets it looks like a real cottage garden, why, the aqui legia vulgaris have even self seeded where I park the car. Nodding purple bonnets next to dusty pink foxgloves and yellow buttercups. I took a photo of them for remembrance.
We are clearing the studio at the end of the garden, the old git started with the pruning and stopped when he found a blackbirds nest. Four little chicks, openmouthed waiting for lunch. We’ve had to steer the cat away. Yesterday they flew off, so no more excuses the man has to get his secateurs out, not a pretty sight.
I’ve done all the things I do when I am at home, get my body fixed and watch telly. Yesterday was our wedding anniversary so we went out.