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The bloomin trains have been useless on the last two Sundays. I’ve had to drive in. Consequently by the time I’ve done a three hour show and driven back 50 odd miles – and I do mean odd – I’m cream crackered.
I’ve taken to lying on my back, my legs in the armchair, my arms splayed out mid way through a Jim sentence I’m usually away with the fairies.
This week I had four fab female guests.
DAVINA MACKAIL. She did my papers, we talked all sorts as well as Feng Shui, she’s an ex nurse but now spends time clearing peoples houses, traumas and going up into the mountains of Peru to talk with peruvian Shamans. I love her. Check out her website.
KATHY LETTE cycled in to talk about her book THE BOY WHO FELL TO EARTH and to discuss the mother/teenage daughter relationship. She makes me laugh, but she is so much more than her sassy wisecracks. I love her. Check out her new book.
KEREN SMEDLEY, agony aunt and author of a self help coaching book for life after 50+, was on the end of the line for my listeners, as well as imparting sage like wisdom about living, not giving up, and changing things if they don’t suit. I loved her. Check out her website.
Then I had the impeccable CHARLIE DORE and JULIAN LITTMAN, singing songs from her latest album CHEAPSKATE LULLABYS. Julia’s guitar and her voice were haunting. It is a delicious album, really good to cook to. Check out her new CD.

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Thank you so much, to all of you that sent me messages.
Not a crisis, not a teaser, but I just needed an acknowledgment that life does still exist outside my little cottage.
This morning there was no donkey, the yellow primroses are giving way to tiny purple wild violets, bluebells, cuckoo flowers and little white mouse ears. Pink, white and blue everywhere.
I think the cold, wet winter has done all the plants good.
I timed myself – 24 bars of track five – running past a little copse of wood anemones, The trees are surrounded by little faces of white petals all pushing their way to the sun. Which was out until I got to Frog Spawn Bend.
Marched up the hill past centurion rows of Dan-De-Lion. ‘Wet the beds’ as we called them when I was growing up.
Talking of which, I always have to stop off in the outdoor pursuit centre to use their public loo. I’m drinking three litres of greens everyday. Finally I’m back on my old regime. Which is a massive relief.
Part of my absence has been dealing with GLICLAZIDE. The diabetic drug I resorted to. My doctor’s known me for twenty odd years – and I do mean odd – but he is a Western Medical practitioner, so drugs are always the first port of call. I had got so stressed and out of whack that I had to do something to regulate my body. I trust him, but I hated taking the drug.
Apart from the weight gain my two big toes ( slap, bang on the Liver meridian) had developed fungus, my skin had turned a sallow shade of mustard and my hair was as lank as damp vermicelli.
And then I interviewed a brilliant professor on my BBC show who noticed my bloated belly and said….

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Now 33 minutes and 40 seconds in London crosses boundaries.
Battersea to Chelsea.
Clapham to Wandsworth.
Hampstead to Camden Town.
But 33 minutes and 40 seconds where I live takes you into the rain forest the only boundaries are the hedgerows full of ancient plants.
The first fifteen minutes had me marvelling at the dogged ‘Unofficial English Rose’ which looks like its having a field day.
I have never seen so many flowers. Blousy and open, their faces flat to the sun.

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It’s only Alamo Day if you live in Texas so don’t worry about it.
Just because the Concise Oxford Dictionary says that I am a ‘withered old woman’ if I call myself a crone doesn’t make me one.
I’m taking back the language of my foremothers. I like the idea of being a crone, a hag, a harridan, a matriarch. Why not? If I can’t laugh at my three score years and three then I need my bottom smacking.
It’s Tuesday 6th of March and the bin-men emptied the bin all of their own accord. I forgot to put it out last night. something I am going to have to remember over the next three months since the old git will be in Northampton, and as helpful as he is a three and a half hour journey to put out the rubbish is just a little too much doncha think?

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It has been twelve days since writing this blog as I have been utterly rushed off my feet.
I tried to re-write the 12 days of Christmas but by the time I got to ‘3 Fur lined Gloves’, and ‘5 cell phone rings’ I gave up.
On Christmas Eve I did a four hour show for the Beeb. Georgio Locatelli and James Corrigan brought in so much food and drink by the time I got to Charing Cross my goose was aready cooked.
I arrived home just in time to eat B’s Christmas Eve meal and hear the news that my German girlfriend had missed her plane on account of the bottle of wine she had imbibed on her own, she overslept and missed the flight from Hamburg.
There was one mouth less to feed.
Christmas day was less wrapping paper than normal and more Champagne than usual.
From Boxing day until today I have been working. A quiet office, a team of dedicated radioheads and an audience who have bothered to call in despite their dyspeptic stomachs.
The Christmas tree started out all green and piney and ended up looking all grey and spindley. There with more needles on the floor than an arboretum in Berkshire. We chucked it out two days after christmas.
Gods Gift drove us up for New Years Eve, we stayed in The Charlotte Street hotel as the Beeb couldn’t find us a bed for the night. The Holiday Inns and Travel Lodges had single beds and mould whilst the Charlotte Street Hotel had a double bed and fresh apples in the foyer.
I sent the ‘oosbind off last night as I was so tired and the rain was coming down in arcloads.
I watched Sherlock Holmes and Ab Fab and fell asleep after room service had brought me up a bowl of soup, three slices of bread and a bill for twenty quid.
The show today was the longest three hours of 2012 and the train ride home bumpy.
I left my bag on the train seat until a lovely young man handed it to me and told me it was the second time he had rescued an old dame in distress.
I had some delicious folk on the show from Jasmine Birtles who teaches in a Sunday School and helps people out with their financial woes.
I had Susie Pearl on and her yellow and pink, tourquoise and orange book:’INSTRUCTIONS FOR HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS’ which had me hyperventilating into my camomile tea.
I had the brothers CAINER on DAN and JONATHAN, who spoke and sung about the year that was and the year that will be. Jonathan Cainer told us to look out for VENUS which will swing pass the SUN on JUNE 6th of this year. Making it auspicious.

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