Jeni Barnett

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….

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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.

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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

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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

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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.

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19.53. My hands, nose and feet are cold. i’ve turned the heating up full. The ‘oosbind has turned it back down again.
We spent the weekend in the cottage.
I took the train – 3.45 – from Charing Cross on Friday evening. Jim collected me at TWells. When I walked in the cottage I had to stop myself throttling the old git. Instead I took out the vacuum cleaner and whisked away a whole week of his detritus.
After which I could settle down to an evening of Friday night nonsense.
Hung parliament or no, it was good to get away from politics for a couple of hours.

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Have just come in from The Tricycle Theatre in Kilburn. The ‘oosbind and I went to see FILTER theatre group doing their version of TWELTH NIGHT.
A riotous evening of music, physical theatre, good humour, the Bard, good acting and witty direction. Jim worked with them on ‘The Three Sisters’, so i felt a bit like family. They are such a lovely company of old friends, the comraderie and talent are infectious. Critics were in and even they smiled. Please get yourself down there and have a ripping evening. Kids will love it, adults will love it, the organised chaos tells the story so clearly that in the middle of mad rock music and sound effects the play stands out like a beacon. Well done them.
I am so proud that my old man is part of such a young, energetic company.
We drove back just as the first result of election night was being announced. A Labour win. The telly is on now with Joan Collins declaring love for David Cameron and Andrew Neil being ever so slightly hysterical.

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