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So it seems Emily Maitlis stood herself down after telling the truth about The Cum. I have been stood down, more than once, for telling the truth. Mr.Blobby says we can all make up our own minds about The Cum, and thats it’s time to move on from a little political skirmish. Matt Cock stands … Read more

Forget-me-knots have taken over the garden, I pulled some of them out gently and have laid them in the log basket next to the fireplace. They won’t last but they look beautiful. Dandelions everywhere. A couple of buttercups. Bundles of bluebells. Primroses pink and yellow have lined the path to the studio. My Stauntonia, after … Read more

Three handfuls of Epsom salts, a squirt of Badedas and Radio 4. At 7.30 this morning I climbed into the bath and pondered on the end of the world as we know it. By midnight on Friday we will be out of the EU. Speculation abounds; queues, stockpiling, hoarding, lack of medicine, lack of bananas, … Read more

Last week, against a backdrop of Orange Buffoonery and trampled mourners, the old git and I sat and watched the clock in the sitting room as it arrived at 20:20:20:2020. one second of pleasure. Back in the 70’s when we lived in Wapping, we would stand in front of our VHS recorder until the time … Read more

I studied the British Constitution at school, never concentrated, wasn’t bothered, had about as much interest as learning how to plait raffia palm mats. But now fifty four years down the line my interest has been sparked by an old Etonian bully masquerading as our First Minister, a clever, calculating, manipulative nincompoop, imbecile, jerk, lummox, … Read more

What is it about sagging arms. My mum, my bubba, me. Sugar gliders, wings of flesh, that hang under the arms and are soft and perfect to play with. My mother had a comfortable, soft set, of two . That is until she got cancer and they removed her lymph nodes. We found out later … Read more

My computer tells me it’s 15.42, though the clock on the wall says 2.16. I haven’t been in the attic since the clocks went back, which makes no never mind since the batteries in the wall clock are flat anyway. Turning the clock back, though, would be preferable sometimes wouldn’t it? Not that looking backwards … Read more

I’ve been shamed by the Borowski family, who wrote such a delicious blog that I’ve come straight to the attic, put the heater on, donned thick woollen socks, opened up my blog and started writing. Trump and May, dominate my political head, but their antics are so confusing and dastardly that I have to turn … Read more

Rain is pitter pattering on the sky light. Emmy, in disgrace, is sitting on the armchair, having crunched her way through something. I got out of the bean bag and saw a dead, bloody corpse. Took my glasses off, put on yellow rubber gloves. Scraped the remains into a very big plastic bin bag and … Read more

My birthday included one meeting. A box of Macaroons, a bottle of champagne, candles, soap and a tiny pink pistachio cake with coffee. A walk down Tottenham Court Road, open mouthed at the newness of the tube and the loss of my youth. Lunch in China town, with dumplings and garlic shoots. Another meet in … Read more