19.34. Football, tennis, meetings, chat. taxis, heat, almonds, silence.
Worra a day this has been, it was a heavy show I got so angry about factory farming. We are, if we’re not careful, going to turn into the dustbin of Europe. It’s as if the Great British public are letting the fat cats poop on us from a very great height.
It is not their God given right to mystify us, confuse us, screw us and then let us pick up the pieces.
If factory farming is allowed to happen on our tiny, little Island we will only have ourselves to blame.
Ad Infinitum
Ten Days That Shook My World
First of all let me say thank you for your messages.
I AM FINE. Although the last ten days have been more than a little testing
It’s been mechanical mash up, daughter mash up, emotional mash up, not to mention the old git’s absence which didn’t help.
Tonight, at 21.22, B is watching big Brother, her friend Shabby is in it, the only reason for watching such a pile of pooh.
The french doors are open and we are being invaded by green flies from the river, the dishes need washing, the rugs need hoovering, the basket of ironing is staring at me all creased and needy. But I did wash the dirty sheets and towels.
Its amazing how one 23 year old daughter can make so much mess just by breathing….
Anyway I’ve hung out the wet laundry on the clothes horse on the balcony am about to water the herbs and window boxes but have resisted tidying away B’s dog-ends from the balcony table, because they stink…
Actually finally everything feels like its getting back to normal. The ‘oosbind is back on Sunday and B’s back is mending nicely thanks to Naval the genius cranial osteopath and Monica my acupuncturist. 14 needles later and a lot of Naval osteopathy and she’s not listing to the left like a drunken midshipman..
But it feels like something is in the air, earlier, as I climbed out of my taxi from Oxford Street, I was accosted by my upstairs neighbour.
With a little help from my friends.
Yes, Rhiannon, St. Nicholas’s Church is still functioning as a church. Yes Adrian, you naked on a bike feels me with dread!! I have had a very emotional weekend. what with one thing and another. Today I mowed the lawn, hoovered the cottage, hung the washing out on the line, in the sun, then drove … Read more
A ceremony of civility
It’s Tuesday. The old git is in Ireland, it’s tipping it down and he’s performing in the open air at Trinity College in Dublin.
Last night they had to put plastic bags in their shoes – 16th century garb I may add, and still his little feet got soaked. Sloshing around giving his iambic pentameter.
He skyped me last night. he, sitting in the howsyourfather, in his hotel room and me sitting in my howsyourmother in the flat. We blew each other a kiss and I went back to bed, where I had been since lunchtime.
I blame Civil Ceremonies, daughters, actors and insomnia.
NIKE DIRECT ARE A SCAM
do not go to Nike Direct THEY ARE A SCAM.
Kissings Out of Fashion
Friday night’s drive back to East Sussex was nowhere near as bad as I had anticipated.
Jim drove my little red car home and I collected my mother in his. It’s smoother, sleeker, more comfortable for an 88 year old passenger and I drive it slower since its his…
I made up the spare room and she settled down to sleep whilst we settled down for Johnathan Ross and Jules Holland.
Mr. Ross was okay but the bands on Mr. Holland were piss poor. Sorry when four lads get together and twang around on guitars without a thought for their audience I get lost in reveries of what music used to be like. And as for young girls who stand up in front of them and caterwaul their way into the charts it doesn’t so much make my blood boil as set it on a rolling simmer, why get too worked up over it? Bring back melody.
Do you think I am getting old….
Flower Power
Gardening is not really my thing. I love my garden but get deeply frustrated at the continual need for weeding and the like.
The irony is that I have green fingers. if I plant it it grows. My mother has emerald digits and my father was a good navvy when it comes to shifting earth from one place to another.
Jim knows his peas from his cues but also has very little time pulling a bind weed here or taming a clematis there.
So between us we have hired and fired various gardeners. Let me just reveal that my garden is about 80ft long and wide enough to stand approximately fifteen people shoulder to shoulder.
The south hedge overlooks fields and oast-houses whilst the two ends and the left side are fully shrubbed up.
MARRIAGE BLITZ
I slept through the alarm, I had intended to get up at 5.30 to write but I was a bit under par last night so I chose to stay under the duvet with the old git, well it was our wedding anniversary.
22 years of married Blitz.
We’re off out in 20 minutes to have a curry in Battersea Square. The Rickshaw, fabbo, they cook my vegetables without ghee, so its a guilt free celebration.
I decided to walk in this morning. My back is nearly 100%, my colon is nearly 100% and my energy levels are ridiculous. SO
Poirot for supper
I got up just before sunrise on Saturday morning. Put on a sarong, my pink crocks and a little black bolero thingy.
I left as the sun came up.
It took precisely one hour and five minutes to do 45 miles. Arrived at the cottage and the mist had descended.
Emmy climbed onto the bed, I untied my sarong, kicked my crocks into the wall and fell into bed.
At 10.20 I woke with a start
Purple Jeni
Vanity is the curse of the moneyed age-ed. Take yours truly.
I have been working with Errol Denton, and of course my acupuncturist, on getting my blood sugar down. I went to see him on March 31st, on April Fools day I embarked on a far from foolish regime.
‘How do you do it?’ people ask with a kind of sneer and intrigued look on their faces.
‘How do you live without booze?’
‘Easy’ I say. booze was something I did when I was young and profligate, or when Olly Smith or Joe Wadsack passed it under my nose on GFL. When you get to 60 a nice cup of camomile tea is about as exciting as it gets.