Sooooooooo. Open toed sandals are not allowed.
Sooooooooo. Black tee shirts are not allowed.
Sooooooooo. Spelling my name incorrectly and offering me a pair of shoes that are two sizes too big and a green builders waistcoat are compensation are they?
Lets start from the beginning.
Ad Infinitum
Whale won
Hello all, it feels like life is on the move again.
This morning I fitted in all my crancological needs including making a large pot of porridge with cinnamon and healthy sweetener.
The car arrived a little late but this week I wasn’t too concerned.
I decided on a dress I bought from ROLANDAS’ in Battersea Square. That Shirley really knows her stuff. Things that I think look odd don’t! Shirley gets me and my body….Even the make up artist at LWT wanted her address, when the makeup girls want your clothes you know you’re on a winner..
We sat in traffic for ages then pulled up outside ‘This Morning’ just in time to be met by young Martin.
Either they are getting younger and younger or I’m getting older and older? Please dont answer that.
No excuses
Tuesday and I’ve just got locked into Aston and Cameron being romantically involved in Las Vega. If I were Demi I would be ever so slightly perturbed at my husbands antics. Still thats Hollywood for ya. Today I went on a 55 bus. A jolly good route from Clerkenwell Road right to Wardour Street. After … Read more
Ears and eyes.
‘This Morning’s’ studio is an add on to the old LWT Towers I knew back in the day.
The first person I saw was a doorman I hadn’t seen for a zillion years, then a researcher who was a Goth and is now fresh faced, a sound man, the director, Philip Schofield, it was lovely to be back in my old stomping ground.
It was truly good to be back on a sofa with the Thames rolling past, Paul Ross next to me and cameras.
It’s not narcissism to say I feel more at home in front of a lens than I do in front of a fire. But I have spent more years on a telly sofa than I have my own. It was lovely to be invited back, and a delight to get so many emails, texts and messages from folk who saw the show.
Who’d have thought it.
Here goes a new four year cycle.
My Karma ran over my dogma
Last night I danced the night away with EMMA LEECH and 17 other people at the Royal Academy for Dance on Vicarage Road in Battersea.
Emma teaches the ‘Five Rhythms’, to people like me, young offenders and recovering addicts in Harley Street. She is totally lovely and I went along to her debut class in Battersea SW11.
Of course I was nervous, the last time I danced I cleared the floor, the organisers gave me a broom and told me to stop messing around and start sweeping.
Emma had the perfect music for the five states of dance. Which range from plinkity plonk to boom bang a bang, Burundi style.
I had filmed the creator of ‘Five Rhythms’ Gabrielle Roth twenty odd years ago when she came to England but I had never partaken. With the help of Emma and her incredible sound scapes I jumped and swung, swayed and shifted for a very long time. I think it was two hours but I was very tired, well I had returned to my beloved Bikram yoga at 6.30 that very morning – anyway I couldn’t see the clock.
The theory behind the five thingies is that you move out of the way of yourself using lyrical, stacatto, chaos and two more dances which I forget, to allow yourself to unblock.
I was new, a delightful witehaired woman from France was new, three blokes had done it before and a pile of partakers shed inhibition and moved around a real dance studio that Dame Ninnette de Valois would have been proud of, thats the dancing not the studio, although to be fair it is a lovely space.
I walked back to the flat and the ‘oosbind had arrived with glucose strips to measure my blood, a lovely little water bottle with it’s own filter which he bought me as a present and half a loaf of bread.
He looked lovely, makes a change for me to say that, although it didn’t stop us from having a ruck.
This morning my thighs feel like orange boxes but that didn’t deter me from having an ambulant Tuesday, with a really serendipitous set of events.
Late for a very important date
Ain’t it the way.
Went to bed at 10.00 last night. Fell asleep almost immediately.
Woke up at 11.58.
Fell asleep almost immediately.
Woke up at 5.00
Fell asleep nearly immediately.
Woke up at 7.28 and I had overslept.
I was in some kind of stupor.
Turned my phone on to make sure the driver in the light blue car was still waiting at the gate. He was.
After a brief ablute I found underwear that was appropriate for leggings that turned out to make me look like a shrunken gym teacher and a t-shirt that gave me the air of a the head girl in a Catholic Girls School.
Why Catholic?
Because the t-shirt was the green of the Emerald Isle, I know their are different religions in Ireland but…..
Grabbed a mac and put on my Mac Red lippy.
Dashed downstairs and the ex bus-driver said he knew where he was going as he used to drive the 170 bus route.
Like L he did.
I arrived fifteen minutes later than normal but it was all aok.
Behindsite
LISTEN GIRLS: If I had known then what I know now I would have done the shoot wearing a fur coat, cling fim and armoured plating. But what is done is done. I have to live with the pictures in my mind. When the calandar comes out I’m leaving the country.
The Naked truth
How do I feel now?
Every time I think about it I go hot.
I’ve eaten a whole packet of biscuits, a bowl of red hot veg, an avocado and some strawberries to try and still my fevered brow but to no avail.
At 62 years of age leaving my knickers on the floor of a snooker room in Dean Street seems a little careless don’t you think? But let me tell you why they were lying there in the first place.
On Monday 11th of March I went into Groucho’s to try and blag a cuppa for my friend.
Bernie, the head honcho, saw me and screamed:
‘Would you pose naked for me?’
Grabbed my arm and took me down to the Ladies Lavatory, frightened Mandy in the cubicle, showed me a set of pictures of naked men on the walls and told me they were posing in the buff for an autistic calender.
He was setting up a shoot for women would I be one of them….As a supporter of anything to do with autism
How could I refuse?
Bernie offered me the perk of the club how could I say no?
Ignatia
Threw fifty quid into the dustbin. Will it still be there when I get home?
Does it mean that deep down I think money is dirty? Or has the stress of the wedding, Bank Holiday Monday, birthdays, mothers and meetings got to me?
If the fifty quid is still there does it make me fifty pounds richer today or am I as poor as I was when I threw it into the garbage. Shrodinger’s puss would have something to say about that.
If the fifty pounds exists at all does it make me half a ton happier or if it has been mulched with all the other unrecycleable rubbish then am I fifty pounds worse off. The real question is whether it matters?
Of course it matters but is it worth writing a mountainous blog about?
I think not I can feel my blood sugar rising at the thought of it….
The patience of an Ant….
Watcha Peeps.
The wedding, the holidays, the sun, the wind, the travel, the family.
I have been caught up in so much tooing and froing that watching the snooker tonight – something I have never done – felt positively exhilarating,. I even cried when Judd Trump was knocked out. Good name eh?
My journal has remained unwritten, my carpet remained unhoovered and my books remain unread.
Now is the time to get a grip SO I have made some decisions. Firstly though I must say…..