Barbarians at the Barbican

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If only I spoke French. I went to see ‘Andromaque’ by Jean Racine, at the Barbican. Full house, very intelligent, stark staging. Beautiful acting, but it was like watching two comics from the Fast Show pretending to be French. There were sub-titles but I always take a dip between 7-8 so I nodded off. When … Read more

Budget blowout….

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23.46.
Today I was shelved because of the budget SO
I attended a yoga class. Five of us in a little house in Clapham. The sun shone and I stood with my eyes closed for a lot longer than I thought possible.
Jim and I walked the Northcott road and met an ex agent who nows sells cookware.We bought a coffee machine, a tray, two paids of socks a tub of cocoa butter and a box of Lilly of the Valley soaps. Scientist have just announced that sperm smells of LotV – thanks for that nugget Jim!

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Socks away

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I’ve just stepped out of the bath. I can feel the warmth of the hot water in my bones. Everybody I know is busy and I’m left with such tiredness that I can’t get my dander up to write. I keep putting it off. I have tomorrow off – not needed for the budget – … Read more

Simple cooking

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Diana Henry has written a book called effortless cooking every day COOK SIMPLE. I have boxes of cookery books and several recipes in my head but DIANA’S recipes are exquisite. The book really does what it says on the cover. Today I entertained the cast in Jim’s play. Lamb in two different marinades. Salads with … Read more

Gawd Blimey O’Riley….

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I know it’s a disgrace. For some reason my rhythm has gone. This blog will appear again on Monday April 20th. I dare not promise just in case THE WAR HORSE is so good I cant bring myself to write anything about it. It has been one Gawd Blimey of a week. From Easter to … Read more

Hot stones

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Have you ever had a hot stone massage? One of my birthday gifts was a session with a massoose down in Hersmonceaux. I lay on my back on a bed of hot stones while other hot stones were rubbed into other parts of my aching body. Then I turned over and put my head through … Read more

The Tooth will out

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And so Friday arrived…
I drove gingerly to the dentist.
My little red car slotted into the parking space by the letter box.
I was punctual and ready.
Rome had been and gone.
My holiday had been and gone.
My birthday party had been and gone.
This was the moment of tooth.

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The moment of Tooth part one.

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Croydon marked the end of an era.
I had handed over my fifties to those that know and I entered my 60’s in style.
Well not that Croydon is Manhattan but the man who showed us where the stage door was had terrible teeth but a heart of gold.
I was 60 and 2 days old. My darling Steve, ex producer, came with a CD of music from 1949, a big grin and a rucksack full of ideas. Lozzie my makeup artist arrived, Rob the agent, Jim the husband and B the daughter all managed to get themselves safely to Sarf-East Lundun. The audience, though small, was friendly and on my side.
The old git, the daughter and various very old friends filled out the theatre as best they could.
It will be the last time I ever do anything without a huge publicity machine behind me – and I’ve said it in print so I mean it- when I am next in an 800 seater there will be 800 seats with bums on.
I must admit that one or two of those bums gave me critism that I could have well done without but that’s the nature of the beast. If you are gong to stand up and be counted don’t shoot the abbacus.
So March 24th came and went. March 26th came and went.
And Friday 27th was dealing with my ailing tooth, getting my FREEDOM PASS HURRAH FOR FREE TRAVEL, collecting boxes of gifts from the Post Office and preparing for the party of all parties.

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Oldie Times

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I was so excited yesterday, not so much because I was 60 but because it was my birthday.
I have to admit that the day before, on the 23rd, the realisation that I was turning old hit me like a demolition ball.
I don’t know what it means to be sixty only that it felt like it had to be honoured.

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Wild Garlic on mothers day

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Today I walked the orchard.
Through the apple and pear trees.
Over the style and I swear I could feel Jackson. I sat on the wooden cross bar and hung my head. The tears behind my eyelids were ready to burst like the buds.
Down the hill, round the stream, and there was the wild garlic I had gone looking for.
Tender green leaves, my fingers still smell from picking a handful by the waters edge. I am about to eat them in a salad.
Back to the cottage and I mowed the lawn. Every daisy went the way of the rest of the cuttings. The lawn looked neat and shapely.

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