I have been a bit tired and out of sorts, I am getting ready to go to London on Wednesday. The amount of packing I have to organise and get washed in preparation is driving me mental. Ashley seems to think nothing of wearing 'everything' she owns and it now all needs to be washed and dried and packed to go into a case. I have warned her not to TAKE EVERYTHING she owns...but that matters not. She will bring along the biggest amount of un-wearable stuff and bash it all into that case.
Husband cares not and asked me to pack for him as 'You know what I wear all the time anyway' I secretly felt like packing stuff he hates and watching his face as he offloaded his luggage and stared at a selection of old battered tee shirts and torn trousers he insists on keeping up the top of his closet. But I did not, i packed nice stuff.
I have got packing down to a fine art, as always I know who to make three pairs of knickers and two pairs of jeans, with a couple of tops thrown in....last two weeks.
I am worried about the rehearsals, I do know the play and I do the words, I am just stressed that I will have to do more 'book publicity' and it will eat into my rehearsal times. I do need to do all the stuff and I am probably being a grumpy cow and my family are anticipating me having a 'meltdown'.
I am trying to stop being shouty and scary, but the heartburn I am suffering with stress and it goes to my stomach....so I am a bitch.
My neice is staying at my home and she seems to be happy and has everything under control. I even shouted at her.
Keep back...angry woman going on tour!
Monday, May 30, 2005
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Late night fighting….yes ME!
I have been totally high on adrenaline all day, wired is how I would describe it. I have a big double page spread in the Daily Record, four big photo’s and a whole article about my book being released. I liked the article and am happy that it turned out ok, as it is always a worry, you think it may trash or trivialise the book and you cant exhale until you actually read it.
After that I had seen my book in the book store and let myself be talked into a ‘impromptu’ book signing by the store manager.
So tonight I am on stage at a lovely wee gig in the Merchant City. It all went fine and I was still a wee bit high as a kite coming off stage, adrenaline flooding my system like sugar rush to a toddler, so I decided to walk home and listen to my IPOD full blast.
Saturday night in Glasgow’s city centre is just an amazing sight.
The late night Kebab run, I call it. There are people laughing/crying/falling/eating/kissing/fucking/pissing/flirting/falling again/fighting/stabbing/singing/shouting/running all in equal measures.
I walked quickly, in time to my music. ‘Born Slippy’ banged in my ear drums as I approached the nightclub ‘Destiny’ queue. Raggle taggle drunk happy young people, the girls all appeared to be dressed in their nightgowns or swimwear, huddled against the cold Glasgow rain, the boys all standing tall or buckled with booze, desperate to off load that weeks sperm store, hair spiked and shirts hanging loose over ‘distressed’ jeans on a stressed body.
I smiled as I passed and recalled when I used to wait to go into discos (God…. did we really call them discos?). Just as I bounced in my Masai Warrior shoes past the top of the line, a young spiky boy in a cheap suit, smelling of excitement and cider, reached over and ripped out one of my IPOD earplugs, laughed and turned to the girls for ‘testosterone’ approval. Surely if he can annoy an old woman he will be good at oral?
Every nerve from the top of my scalp to the inside linings of my kidneys itched. Normally I would bark at him and keep walking.
Not tonight, adrenaline developed a tsunami and ran like a heroin rush through my system, awakening the tight numb skin that lies dry under my fingernails, my pupils hurt as they enlarged and the skin on my back let slip a slow sweat drop that tickled as it snaked from my neck.
I turned and faced him and he saw what I felt, I must have looked like Carrie on her prom night.
“Fuck off fatty” he laughed loudly, but with nerves shaking his voice.
I stared at him, kept a straight face and was aware that the crowd was now craning their necks to see what was going on.
I looked at the girls in a small ring-a-rosy type group and I shouted really loudly “Hey. It’s not my fault you’re GAY”
The crowd sniggered. The boy sneered and his wee pal stepped forward and shouted back “He is not gay ya cow”
I stepped nearer and laughed “Oh look, he has a wee boyfriend”
I turned to the crowd and opened my lungs and belted out
“Ladies and gentleman, please – a big round of applause for Tommy, who chose tonight to come out as a homosexual”
The crowd roared and clapped.
The boy squared up to me, terribly insulted, terribly annoyed, his pimples glowed.
I reached into the back of my head and pulled out of my hair the long steel pointed sharp ‘Bird beak’ spring loaded hair clip. It looks fucking lethal and is extremely strong and comes to a fine steel point.
“Do you want me to stab this into your groin? How embarrassing will it be to die in a fucking nasty hair clip attack?”
He backed off.
I turned to the doormen who were watching and laughing with the crowd.
“Excuse me door staff, I am journalist walking home and customers of yours have just attacked me, are you going to let these vile potentially violent men into your club?”
The door men stared at me looked at the young bucks (who were now very worried about death by hair decorations).
“No” said the baldy headed man dressed in black “No, you are both barred” he gruffly spoke to the two boys.
The queue cheered, the two boys tried to argue but the bouncer only raised his hand up showing his palm to indicate silence.
They waited till I walked away and they were a good few yards down the road and shouted
“Fucking old cow, we are not scared of your hair clip”
The queue laughed loudly. I took a bow and carried on my journey home laughing.
A good night out in Glasgow, the city of STYLE!
After that I had seen my book in the book store and let myself be talked into a ‘impromptu’ book signing by the store manager.
So tonight I am on stage at a lovely wee gig in the Merchant City. It all went fine and I was still a wee bit high as a kite coming off stage, adrenaline flooding my system like sugar rush to a toddler, so I decided to walk home and listen to my IPOD full blast.
Saturday night in Glasgow’s city centre is just an amazing sight.
The late night Kebab run, I call it. There are people laughing/crying/falling/eating/kissing/fucking/pissing/flirting/falling again/fighting/stabbing/singing/shouting/running all in equal measures.
I walked quickly, in time to my music. ‘Born Slippy’ banged in my ear drums as I approached the nightclub ‘Destiny’ queue. Raggle taggle drunk happy young people, the girls all appeared to be dressed in their nightgowns or swimwear, huddled against the cold Glasgow rain, the boys all standing tall or buckled with booze, desperate to off load that weeks sperm store, hair spiked and shirts hanging loose over ‘distressed’ jeans on a stressed body.
I smiled as I passed and recalled when I used to wait to go into discos (God…. did we really call them discos?). Just as I bounced in my Masai Warrior shoes past the top of the line, a young spiky boy in a cheap suit, smelling of excitement and cider, reached over and ripped out one of my IPOD earplugs, laughed and turned to the girls for ‘testosterone’ approval. Surely if he can annoy an old woman he will be good at oral?
Every nerve from the top of my scalp to the inside linings of my kidneys itched. Normally I would bark at him and keep walking.
Not tonight, adrenaline developed a tsunami and ran like a heroin rush through my system, awakening the tight numb skin that lies dry under my fingernails, my pupils hurt as they enlarged and the skin on my back let slip a slow sweat drop that tickled as it snaked from my neck.
I turned and faced him and he saw what I felt, I must have looked like Carrie on her prom night.
“Fuck off fatty” he laughed loudly, but with nerves shaking his voice.
I stared at him, kept a straight face and was aware that the crowd was now craning their necks to see what was going on.
I looked at the girls in a small ring-a-rosy type group and I shouted really loudly “Hey. It’s not my fault you’re GAY”
The crowd sniggered. The boy sneered and his wee pal stepped forward and shouted back “He is not gay ya cow”
I stepped nearer and laughed “Oh look, he has a wee boyfriend”
I turned to the crowd and opened my lungs and belted out
“Ladies and gentleman, please – a big round of applause for Tommy, who chose tonight to come out as a homosexual”
The crowd roared and clapped.
The boy squared up to me, terribly insulted, terribly annoyed, his pimples glowed.
I reached into the back of my head and pulled out of my hair the long steel pointed sharp ‘Bird beak’ spring loaded hair clip. It looks fucking lethal and is extremely strong and comes to a fine steel point.
“Do you want me to stab this into your groin? How embarrassing will it be to die in a fucking nasty hair clip attack?”
He backed off.
I turned to the doormen who were watching and laughing with the crowd.
“Excuse me door staff, I am journalist walking home and customers of yours have just attacked me, are you going to let these vile potentially violent men into your club?”
The door men stared at me looked at the young bucks (who were now very worried about death by hair decorations).
“No” said the baldy headed man dressed in black “No, you are both barred” he gruffly spoke to the two boys.
The queue cheered, the two boys tried to argue but the bouncer only raised his hand up showing his palm to indicate silence.
They waited till I walked away and they were a good few yards down the road and shouted
“Fucking old cow, we are not scared of your hair clip”
The queue laughed loudly. I took a bow and carried on my journey home laughing.
A good night out in Glasgow, the city of STYLE!
Saturday, May 28, 2005
IT'S IN THE SHOPS!
Had a good lunch and chat with my oldest ( she is not old) but longest lasting pal Janette, we have been pals since we were five years old!
Anway as usual we chat -we eat- we laugh, she organises me, she snaps at me for having a messy handbag, she questions my diary and dates and then reassures me all will be well with the book/play/comedy and whatever I need reassurances on!
I love her. Nothing has changed since we were small kids. She is boss and thats it!
We walked down Sauchiehall Street and wandered into WH Smiths the book shop. There on the shelf is MY BOOK! Yes staring at me- I was shocked! I know it's not supposed to be released until June 2nd, so I stop the passing manager and ask him
me-"Excuse me the release date for this is June 2nd, can you explain why it's out now?"
man-"How do you know?"
me-"I wrote it"
man-"Really? Well we get an early release on it as there must be a deal with the publishers, anyway can you please sign some copies and we can sell them as 'Signed by Author'"
me-"Ok then, get me a pen"
Of course Janette had one already in her hand poised, I quickly signed some books and watched as people waited for me to sign them so they could buy them!
Janette had a camera in her bag and took some pics of the book display and took some pictures of me signing books!
What a day, i am very excited and am now addicted to going into book shops to look at it on the shelf.
Anway as usual we chat -we eat- we laugh, she organises me, she snaps at me for having a messy handbag, she questions my diary and dates and then reassures me all will be well with the book/play/comedy and whatever I need reassurances on!
I love her. Nothing has changed since we were small kids. She is boss and thats it!
We walked down Sauchiehall Street and wandered into WH Smiths the book shop. There on the shelf is MY BOOK! Yes staring at me- I was shocked! I know it's not supposed to be released until June 2nd, so I stop the passing manager and ask him
me-"Excuse me the release date for this is June 2nd, can you explain why it's out now?"
man-"How do you know?"
me-"I wrote it"
man-"Really? Well we get an early release on it as there must be a deal with the publishers, anyway can you please sign some copies and we can sell them as 'Signed by Author'"
me-"Ok then, get me a pen"
Of course Janette had one already in her hand poised, I quickly signed some books and watched as people waited for me to sign them so they could buy them!
Janette had a camera in her bag and took some pics of the book display and took some pictures of me signing books!
What a day, i am very excited and am now addicted to going into book shops to look at it on the shelf.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Invites and fun
Got the invites today from Ebury for my book launch in Glasgow. They are very nice, I am looking forward to the party. It's in the Bistro where the El Presidente boys own.
It's been very very sad for them lately and my heart goes out to them, just as they are getting a well deserved run of success, both their parents die in a space of six weeks/ Their father died just the other week and their lovely mum passed away just recently in April.
How terribly sad for them.
I went in there today and helped out, served a few coffee's and cleared a few tables. Carmen and Guilliano are trying to put on a brave face and keep serving up good food and smiles.
I know how hard that can be, years ago when my mammy died I went straight back to work in the pub, and tried hard to stop myself from thinking about her. It's hard.
I chatted to Fabrice (chef and family member) about the food being served at the launch and he has a good few ideas and to be honest the man is a GREAT CHEF...his homebaked onion bread is awesome, equally his chilli and strawberry cheesecakes are stunningly good-( yes I know-odd combination but amazing).
So free food and free drink to my guests at the book launch.
Am getting packed up slowly for London, just putting a few essentials in the case before Ashley manages to stuff 500 things into hers and overload of luggage allowance.
I did a bad thing today and am scared to tell you in case my family read this....but will keep you posted and maybe let the secret out in aset of coded messages...did I tell you how much I love codes?
adfe3557mkj-hjshd666-
It's been very very sad for them lately and my heart goes out to them, just as they are getting a well deserved run of success, both their parents die in a space of six weeks/ Their father died just the other week and their lovely mum passed away just recently in April.
How terribly sad for them.
I went in there today and helped out, served a few coffee's and cleared a few tables. Carmen and Guilliano are trying to put on a brave face and keep serving up good food and smiles.
I know how hard that can be, years ago when my mammy died I went straight back to work in the pub, and tried hard to stop myself from thinking about her. It's hard.
I chatted to Fabrice (chef and family member) about the food being served at the launch and he has a good few ideas and to be honest the man is a GREAT CHEF...his homebaked onion bread is awesome, equally his chilli and strawberry cheesecakes are stunningly good-( yes I know-odd combination but amazing).
So free food and free drink to my guests at the book launch.
Am getting packed up slowly for London, just putting a few essentials in the case before Ashley manages to stuff 500 things into hers and overload of luggage allowance.
I did a bad thing today and am scared to tell you in case my family read this....but will keep you posted and maybe let the secret out in aset of coded messages...did I tell you how much I love codes?
adfe3557mkj-hjshd666-
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Wish I had worn BIG PANTS
Another early start to wash hair and put on make up for a journalist and photo shoot, GAWD ! I feel like Cindy Crawford! HHAAAAAA No I dont I feel like a fat old woman who wears make up too early in the morning!
I decided to look at the Daily Mail to see how last weeks interview and photo shoot turned out...Shit it's weird reading the whole article there in print. Was quite annoyed as the Daily mail insisted I wear a skirt! (fuckers) and they never showed a photo of me wearing it, after all that effort and all the make up that was slathered on my cheeks...they used a tiny wee head shot...probably for the best, I suppose.
Today I wore my new bright print summer 'flouncy' skirt. I like it...very 'Hippy chic'
Met the photographer for Glasgow's Daily Record down at River Clyde, he took me onto Bell's Bridge and postioned me looking over the river with magnificent Glasgow views in the background.
The place is pretty much deserted with new buildings and conference center's and a few constructions sites on the south side of the river.
The bridge is a thin metal structure and the wind was quite strong, as I stood there my 'flowy' skirt blew right up around my back exposing my bare legs and practically bare ass, wish now I had worn BIG pants, to at least cover some of the scary cellulite and wobbly jelly- white mottled bum cheeks!
I thought for a breif moment that it was ok as no-one is on that side of the river BUT I clearly forgot about the forty odd work men watching from the building works on the south side.
They cheered and clapped, they had been staring at the activity on the metal bridge beside the BBC building that they were working on.
I was horrified, the photographer laughed and could hardly hold up his camera. I was busy sticking up the V sign at the nasty workmen. Bhaaaaa!
Oh well another day another flash of my fat arse.
I may well go topless for the next photo....JOKING!
I decided to look at the Daily Mail to see how last weeks interview and photo shoot turned out...Shit it's weird reading the whole article there in print. Was quite annoyed as the Daily mail insisted I wear a skirt! (fuckers) and they never showed a photo of me wearing it, after all that effort and all the make up that was slathered on my cheeks...they used a tiny wee head shot...probably for the best, I suppose.
Today I wore my new bright print summer 'flouncy' skirt. I like it...very 'Hippy chic'
Met the photographer for Glasgow's Daily Record down at River Clyde, he took me onto Bell's Bridge and postioned me looking over the river with magnificent Glasgow views in the background.
The place is pretty much deserted with new buildings and conference center's and a few constructions sites on the south side of the river.
The bridge is a thin metal structure and the wind was quite strong, as I stood there my 'flowy' skirt blew right up around my back exposing my bare legs and practically bare ass, wish now I had worn BIG pants, to at least cover some of the scary cellulite and wobbly jelly- white mottled bum cheeks!
I thought for a breif moment that it was ok as no-one is on that side of the river BUT I clearly forgot about the forty odd work men watching from the building works on the south side.
They cheered and clapped, they had been staring at the activity on the metal bridge beside the BBC building that they were working on.
I was horrified, the photographer laughed and could hardly hold up his camera. I was busy sticking up the V sign at the nasty workmen. Bhaaaaa!
Oh well another day another flash of my fat arse.
I may well go topless for the next photo....JOKING!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Masia shoes
Yes I am a sucker for gimmick, I saw the advert for the Masai Barfuss Technologie shoes that show you the very beatiful Masai Warriors in full National dress, those gorgeous tribal black gods, swarthed in terracotta robes. I was panting- for the shoes and the beautiful men...yumm.
Apparently they give you a full aerobic workout (not the men, although I would like the full workout with one) but the innovative shoes, due to the methodology of the balance and muscle movement that your body does when walking on these unusual shoes.
I was hooked by the advert.
I walked to the shoe shop in Glasgow's West End, the shoe shop has the full range in the window. As soon as I entered I saw that the staff have been taught how to 'Pounce and Preach' this footwear phenomenon.
me (whilst on phone to Ebury)-"Can I try a pair of those 'warrior' shoes?" I then went back to chatting on phone.
The assisant was incredibly annoyed and needed my full 'Masai' attention.
Assistant-"Madam have you been taught how to walk on them?"
me (still on phone-but now showing some interest) "Actually I have been walking now for erm...43 years and I think I have that down and sorted thanks" I went back to chatting on phone.
assistant-"You need to wear these for fifteen minutes a day to get used to them and then you slowly build up your resistance to the pressure on your spine and the muscle development, then you can wear them full time"
me ( I was now off the phone)-"Ok why does that warrior on the photo not have the shoes on? I pointed to the full size picture of a warrior standing on red sand.
Assistant-"Well they use the Masai warriors walking movements when making the shoes and you will walk like him"
me-"I dont live on a beach, where will I get sand? Does it come with a sand box?"
Assistant-"No, but they also walk on fields and terrains of mud"
me-"How much are they?"
Assistant-"£130"
me-"Fucking hell, I am not walking my good shoes through mud and dirt"
assistant-" Would you like to try them on?"
me-"Ok I am a size 4"
The shoes are really weird to wear, the soles are curved like the base of a rocking horse, you do not walk on your heels, but the middle of your foot or arch takes the full pressure as the curve forces you forward. I loved the feeling, they also make you taller as they are kinda thick stacked soles and I felt i stood up straight in them. I was sold.
As I was buying the most expensive shoes I have ever bought, she gave me a 'video' that explains "How to walk" -.
That alone was worth it for the money, I have a video that will teach me to walk!
Anyway I ignored her advice and popped them on immediately and walked home, then procceded to wear them all night. I woke up this morning and my legs are ......
Fine! Yes despite scary warnings of people ignoring the advice and wearing them to work then waking up next day and hobbling about like Tiny Tim- I am ok.
I must already walk like a warrior, I must have mastered the Masia stroll.
I am happy, husband almost DIED when I told him how much they cost, but then he does not understand my Masai ways.....I am hoping some lovely tall Masai man will recognise my 'walk' and take me with him to his beautiful home and show me his fancy footwork.
I cant believe what gimmick I will fall for next, just hoping the book sells so I can pay for all this crap.
Apparently they give you a full aerobic workout (not the men, although I would like the full workout with one) but the innovative shoes, due to the methodology of the balance and muscle movement that your body does when walking on these unusual shoes.
I was hooked by the advert.
I walked to the shoe shop in Glasgow's West End, the shoe shop has the full range in the window. As soon as I entered I saw that the staff have been taught how to 'Pounce and Preach' this footwear phenomenon.
me (whilst on phone to Ebury)-"Can I try a pair of those 'warrior' shoes?" I then went back to chatting on phone.
The assisant was incredibly annoyed and needed my full 'Masai' attention.
Assistant-"Madam have you been taught how to walk on them?"
me (still on phone-but now showing some interest) "Actually I have been walking now for erm...43 years and I think I have that down and sorted thanks" I went back to chatting on phone.
assistant-"You need to wear these for fifteen minutes a day to get used to them and then you slowly build up your resistance to the pressure on your spine and the muscle development, then you can wear them full time"
me ( I was now off the phone)-"Ok why does that warrior on the photo not have the shoes on? I pointed to the full size picture of a warrior standing on red sand.
Assistant-"Well they use the Masai warriors walking movements when making the shoes and you will walk like him"
me-"I dont live on a beach, where will I get sand? Does it come with a sand box?"
Assistant-"No, but they also walk on fields and terrains of mud"
me-"How much are they?"
Assistant-"£130"
me-"Fucking hell, I am not walking my good shoes through mud and dirt"
assistant-" Would you like to try them on?"
me-"Ok I am a size 4"
The shoes are really weird to wear, the soles are curved like the base of a rocking horse, you do not walk on your heels, but the middle of your foot or arch takes the full pressure as the curve forces you forward. I loved the feeling, they also make you taller as they are kinda thick stacked soles and I felt i stood up straight in them. I was sold.
As I was buying the most expensive shoes I have ever bought, she gave me a 'video' that explains "How to walk" -.
That alone was worth it for the money, I have a video that will teach me to walk!
Anyway I ignored her advice and popped them on immediately and walked home, then procceded to wear them all night. I woke up this morning and my legs are ......
Fine! Yes despite scary warnings of people ignoring the advice and wearing them to work then waking up next day and hobbling about like Tiny Tim- I am ok.
I must already walk like a warrior, I must have mastered the Masia stroll.
I am happy, husband almost DIED when I told him how much they cost, but then he does not understand my Masai ways.....I am hoping some lovely tall Masai man will recognise my 'walk' and take me with him to his beautiful home and show me his fancy footwork.
I cant believe what gimmick I will fall for next, just hoping the book sells so I can pay for all this crap.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Posh lunch and being 'Glassed'
I had to get up at 7am yesterday, I havent done 'MORNING' in a long time. I felt shattered as i had only ben home half a day and had to unpack and re-pack for London. Anyway i got up and showered and stood there at 7.30am blowdrying my fiercesome locks, trying to tame them into some form of admission.
I got to the airport on to the flight for London (sat beside Leo Sayer, and giggled at his hair) finally arrived in Heathrow and got changed into my 'nice clothes' and smart new handbag for lunch with Observer Journalist.
I was taken straight to Charlotte Street Hotel (Very very Fancy). As soon as I walked in the handle came off my trendy trolly case and clattered to the floor, breaking the serene hushed tones of the posh domain.
A famous actor looked over his dark glasses at me and smiled.
me-"I have broke my case! Shit..oooops sorry"
Big handsome concierge-"Thats ok madam a screw will fix it"
me(eyeing up sexy tall blonde boy)-"Yes I know, always does"
Big actor guffawed and gave me a big applause-"Well said"
I was whisked through to the noisey restaurant crammed with familiar faces from TV and big Screen and the media world in general. Immediately I felt self concious, I always get this rush of confidence then crashing waves of self doubt when surrounded by famous talented people. My clothes felt awkward, my shoes felt clumpy and I wanted to hide.
But I kept my chin up and whispered to myself 'Chin up, Janey keep your chin up' as I tend to drop my head and hide behind my hair when I get nervous-( I know this as I watched myself on Kings of Comedy).
The lovely journalist came in and we shook hands and sat down to pick from the huge menu, she chatted on about how she loved the book and the waiter approached slipped almost stabbed me in the face with a big wine glass, he crushed it against the pillar beside me- it shattered and the shards covered my legs and table, there was glass in hair, in my clothes and even in the inside of my shoe!
Nice-made me think i was back in Glasgow.
The table was cleared, cleaned and apologies were thrown over us like a picnic blanket of sorry-ness, people watched and whispered, the famous actor from the foyer leaned over and laughed "What have you broken now?"
Me-"That was not me, for a change someone else broke something, but I think my laughter has broken the head waiter's spirit!"
Actor man smiled at me and I laughed back, i was ok, these people did not know I was Janey from 'Shettleston', they had no idea I was not as confident as I appeared, but then I am a good actor!
The interview and photo shoot lasted a while and the journalist was really warm and nice, we chatted about lots of stuff including my stand up and the play, so a good all round interview.
I was glad husband made me wash my hair as the photo shoot was very up close and personal, I hope my chin is up in the pictures!
I am sitting in an internet shop in Chelsea, need to go and catch a flight home to the people who love me -even if i am Janey from Shettleston!
I got to the airport on to the flight for London (sat beside Leo Sayer, and giggled at his hair) finally arrived in Heathrow and got changed into my 'nice clothes' and smart new handbag for lunch with Observer Journalist.
I was taken straight to Charlotte Street Hotel (Very very Fancy). As soon as I walked in the handle came off my trendy trolly case and clattered to the floor, breaking the serene hushed tones of the posh domain.
A famous actor looked over his dark glasses at me and smiled.
me-"I have broke my case! Shit..oooops sorry"
Big handsome concierge-"Thats ok madam a screw will fix it"
me(eyeing up sexy tall blonde boy)-"Yes I know, always does"
Big actor guffawed and gave me a big applause-"Well said"
I was whisked through to the noisey restaurant crammed with familiar faces from TV and big Screen and the media world in general. Immediately I felt self concious, I always get this rush of confidence then crashing waves of self doubt when surrounded by famous talented people. My clothes felt awkward, my shoes felt clumpy and I wanted to hide.
But I kept my chin up and whispered to myself 'Chin up, Janey keep your chin up' as I tend to drop my head and hide behind my hair when I get nervous-( I know this as I watched myself on Kings of Comedy).
The lovely journalist came in and we shook hands and sat down to pick from the huge menu, she chatted on about how she loved the book and the waiter approached slipped almost stabbed me in the face with a big wine glass, he crushed it against the pillar beside me- it shattered and the shards covered my legs and table, there was glass in hair, in my clothes and even in the inside of my shoe!
Nice-made me think i was back in Glasgow.
The table was cleared, cleaned and apologies were thrown over us like a picnic blanket of sorry-ness, people watched and whispered, the famous actor from the foyer leaned over and laughed "What have you broken now?"
Me-"That was not me, for a change someone else broke something, but I think my laughter has broken the head waiter's spirit!"
Actor man smiled at me and I laughed back, i was ok, these people did not know I was Janey from 'Shettleston', they had no idea I was not as confident as I appeared, but then I am a good actor!
The interview and photo shoot lasted a while and the journalist was really warm and nice, we chatted about lots of stuff including my stand up and the play, so a good all round interview.
I was glad husband made me wash my hair as the photo shoot was very up close and personal, I hope my chin is up in the pictures!
I am sitting in an internet shop in Chelsea, need to go and catch a flight home to the people who love me -even if i am Janey from Shettleston!
Sunday, May 22, 2005
RAF men and me
After I blogged last night in Leicester in that hotel, i folded up my laptop and walked to the reception to keep an eye on it till I went out for a coffee from Subway as scary Stevie was not for giving me a coffee,.....afetr my insulting remarks.
There were five men sitting on the double sofa's. One was early 40's called Tom, he had a leery smile and an eager look-out for women. I heard him call over the 'Henparty' girls who had been staying at our hotel. He was ginger and bald (wot a combination), beside him was a thinner quieter, shy looking middle aged bald man, he had a nice smile. Jim was the young 27 year old shaven headed, well tall and fit sexy, big smiler from Brighton (Not gay-he laughed as he spoke), he loved his RAF...more of which later.
On the other sofa was a smaller darker skinned man in his early 40's, he was cheeky and funny, nice and honest as it turned out and pulling up chairs as I stood chatting with my heavy laptop in my hand were two fit and quite sexy more well spoken guys ( I think they are a gay couple straight from the off-and I think I am right!).
I sat and chatted and took the usual comments from nice middle England uniform wearing, drunk service men
"Whats a nice lady like you doing on Liecester on a weekend? Come over here and make us all smile"
I explained I was a comic, visting the town for three nights work.
I got the usual guffaws and shouts for me to tell a joke!
"I dont do jokes actually" I laughed.
We got over the faux compliments and we all got chatting about the 'War' in Iraq.
Jim the big sexy smiler assured me he 'Loved his RAF' and had been there since he was 19, he admitted he could never hold down a relationship but was happy happy happy. Alarm bells rang at his enthusiastic reply.
The two 'gay' men ( I have no evidence of this arragement but trust me they were finishing each other sentences) anyway they asked me if I liked Eddie Izzard and I said yes, young happy happy JIm snorted out "He's Gay"
Me-"No he is not actually"
Gay-couple -man-" No Jim he is a transvestite and that is nothing to do with his sexuality, just his choice to dress as he feels inside"
The gay couple man actually sat there and explained trans gender sexual mental problems as his gay pal nodded and added further comments to help poor Jim understand men who dress as women. I sat there and watched the other men aghast at the complete and utter comprehensive subject matter coming out of the mouths of the two men sititng there drubnk but getting camper by the nano-second.
I giggled under my breath and changed the topic.
I brought up the subject matter of the 'Human Jenga' where the Allies were subjecting Iraq prisoners to horrible abuse that had been photographed and sent globally.
The ginger and bald man immediately went into 'Soundbites', he prattled on about how 'wrong it all is and it should not be done'...this was fine until he added...But during the Second World War the Japanese subjected horrible injuries and torture on British POW.
me-"So, you see the situatuion as a form of revenege, although we are not talking about the Japanese"
RAF man- "No, but with all this technology, we are seeing it first hand"
me- "Then what you mean is, the Japanese did not have the internet 60 years ago and if they did- they would have filmed the torture and that in itself would have been enough to hurt Iraq's people-although they are not in any way connected to the Japanese"
RAF man-"You are twisting my words!"
Nice other bald man-"No she is not, it's wrong, it's all wrong and degrading people to even the score is not what being a soldier or RAF serviceman is about. Our motto is "Love all Protect All". To beat men up and take photo's of dead soldiers and send them to your friends is a disgusting form of any human behaviour, it's not why i joined the RAF"
The group went quiet, the nice bald man was red in the face he added "I served in Basra, there were people lying dead in the street holding their own babies and we shot them by mistake"
The room went heavy with the oppresive atmosphere.
Scary Stevie wandered over and said loudly " I dont want shouting in here, it attracts the wrong sort of people"
I watched his fat stomach strain on the leather belt as he leaned over to pick up empty glasses and I couldnt help thinking that him and his animal porn or fucking scary internet chatrooms qualified as the 'wrong sort of people' already.
I watched the assembled group of RAF drunk and confused men, mutter to each other and talk into their own drinks.
One of the men looked over to me and said "We thought you would have made us laugh, your right, you dont do jokes"
I think I made all their spirits weak and they all collectively hate me.
I am not anti- soldier or anything, those guys are going back to the war zone's in IRAQ...who am I to judge them? I only wanted to hear their point of view on a few things.
I dont do jokes but I do fuck people off... i think.
There were five men sitting on the double sofa's. One was early 40's called Tom, he had a leery smile and an eager look-out for women. I heard him call over the 'Henparty' girls who had been staying at our hotel. He was ginger and bald (wot a combination), beside him was a thinner quieter, shy looking middle aged bald man, he had a nice smile. Jim was the young 27 year old shaven headed, well tall and fit sexy, big smiler from Brighton (Not gay-he laughed as he spoke), he loved his RAF...more of which later.
On the other sofa was a smaller darker skinned man in his early 40's, he was cheeky and funny, nice and honest as it turned out and pulling up chairs as I stood chatting with my heavy laptop in my hand were two fit and quite sexy more well spoken guys ( I think they are a gay couple straight from the off-and I think I am right!).
I sat and chatted and took the usual comments from nice middle England uniform wearing, drunk service men
"Whats a nice lady like you doing on Liecester on a weekend? Come over here and make us all smile"
I explained I was a comic, visting the town for three nights work.
I got the usual guffaws and shouts for me to tell a joke!
"I dont do jokes actually" I laughed.
We got over the faux compliments and we all got chatting about the 'War' in Iraq.
Jim the big sexy smiler assured me he 'Loved his RAF' and had been there since he was 19, he admitted he could never hold down a relationship but was happy happy happy. Alarm bells rang at his enthusiastic reply.
The two 'gay' men ( I have no evidence of this arragement but trust me they were finishing each other sentences) anyway they asked me if I liked Eddie Izzard and I said yes, young happy happy JIm snorted out "He's Gay"
Me-"No he is not actually"
Gay-couple -man-" No Jim he is a transvestite and that is nothing to do with his sexuality, just his choice to dress as he feels inside"
The gay couple man actually sat there and explained trans gender sexual mental problems as his gay pal nodded and added further comments to help poor Jim understand men who dress as women. I sat there and watched the other men aghast at the complete and utter comprehensive subject matter coming out of the mouths of the two men sititng there drubnk but getting camper by the nano-second.
I giggled under my breath and changed the topic.
I brought up the subject matter of the 'Human Jenga' where the Allies were subjecting Iraq prisoners to horrible abuse that had been photographed and sent globally.
The ginger and bald man immediately went into 'Soundbites', he prattled on about how 'wrong it all is and it should not be done'...this was fine until he added...But during the Second World War the Japanese subjected horrible injuries and torture on British POW.
me-"So, you see the situatuion as a form of revenege, although we are not talking about the Japanese"
RAF man- "No, but with all this technology, we are seeing it first hand"
me- "Then what you mean is, the Japanese did not have the internet 60 years ago and if they did- they would have filmed the torture and that in itself would have been enough to hurt Iraq's people-although they are not in any way connected to the Japanese"
RAF man-"You are twisting my words!"
Nice other bald man-"No she is not, it's wrong, it's all wrong and degrading people to even the score is not what being a soldier or RAF serviceman is about. Our motto is "Love all Protect All". To beat men up and take photo's of dead soldiers and send them to your friends is a disgusting form of any human behaviour, it's not why i joined the RAF"
The group went quiet, the nice bald man was red in the face he added "I served in Basra, there were people lying dead in the street holding their own babies and we shot them by mistake"
The room went heavy with the oppresive atmosphere.
Scary Stevie wandered over and said loudly " I dont want shouting in here, it attracts the wrong sort of people"
I watched his fat stomach strain on the leather belt as he leaned over to pick up empty glasses and I couldnt help thinking that him and his animal porn or fucking scary internet chatrooms qualified as the 'wrong sort of people' already.
I watched the assembled group of RAF drunk and confused men, mutter to each other and talk into their own drinks.
One of the men looked over to me and said "We thought you would have made us laugh, your right, you dont do jokes"
I think I made all their spirits weak and they all collectively hate me.
I am not anti- soldier or anything, those guys are going back to the war zone's in IRAQ...who am I to judge them? I only wanted to hear their point of view on a few things.
I dont do jokes but I do fuck people off... i think.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Weird barstaff and fat men
Not had a grat day to be honest, fell asleep during the day-had the fucking obligatory nightmare-cried upon awakening and felt like a lumpy sad old fat shite going to the gig.
For the first time in my comedy life i wanted to stop doing comedy!-NOW I have NEVER felt like that, but I did today.
I dont call myself an author or playwright or actor I am a comic, although I am all of the other things-I AM A COMIC! Today I felt like a dreary cow. I got to the gig saw 23 big fat baldy men on a stag night leer and shout at me as soon as I stepped on stage and from nowhere, my COMEDY MOJO bounced right back and I had a great gig!
WOW! I think I feel a wee bit under pressure through the book and stuff and the play is fretting me slightly as I need to rehearse hard and I am shitting my pants I will forget my lines and die.
So after the fab gig, I had 23 fat baldy men try to dance with me and I wanted to scream so I left the gig and got to the hotel. I set up my laptop and looked for 'STEVIE' the wierd odd barman who serves the late night coffee's.
me-"Stevie? Hello Stevie?" I called out to the empty bar area.
Stevie is this fattish, man (fuck I hope he doesnt read me blog!)-anyway he is the man who last night asked me if he could get a 'shot' of my computer to go on 'chatlines', he wasnt joking either! I said I couldnt as the internet was down, really I didnt want the dude downloading animal porn onto my daughter's laptop that I am borrowing!
So there I was shouting "Stevie"
He appeared like a wobbly Norman Bates in Psycho and sneered at me and said
"I do not answer to the name 'Stevie', I am too old to be a 'Stevie' I am the wrong colour to be a 'Stevie' my mother called me Steven and you must ask me in the correct title or I will not answer you!"
me-"Ok barman, can i have coffee?"
He hates me and is sneering at me as I type, I am not getting a coffee, which is just as well as he may feel the need to piss in it.
I hope he meets a real nutter on the chatline and meets up with 'her' and actually is tied to a chair as a big baldy haired fucker called Tommy fists him whilst shouting "TAKE IT STEVIE -TAKE IT BIG BOY"
I am off to bed-goodnight!
For the first time in my comedy life i wanted to stop doing comedy!-NOW I have NEVER felt like that, but I did today.
I dont call myself an author or playwright or actor I am a comic, although I am all of the other things-I AM A COMIC! Today I felt like a dreary cow. I got to the gig saw 23 big fat baldy men on a stag night leer and shout at me as soon as I stepped on stage and from nowhere, my COMEDY MOJO bounced right back and I had a great gig!
WOW! I think I feel a wee bit under pressure through the book and stuff and the play is fretting me slightly as I need to rehearse hard and I am shitting my pants I will forget my lines and die.
So after the fab gig, I had 23 fat baldy men try to dance with me and I wanted to scream so I left the gig and got to the hotel. I set up my laptop and looked for 'STEVIE' the wierd odd barman who serves the late night coffee's.
me-"Stevie? Hello Stevie?" I called out to the empty bar area.
Stevie is this fattish, man (fuck I hope he doesnt read me blog!)-anyway he is the man who last night asked me if he could get a 'shot' of my computer to go on 'chatlines', he wasnt joking either! I said I couldnt as the internet was down, really I didnt want the dude downloading animal porn onto my daughter's laptop that I am borrowing!
So there I was shouting "Stevie"
He appeared like a wobbly Norman Bates in Psycho and sneered at me and said
"I do not answer to the name 'Stevie', I am too old to be a 'Stevie' I am the wrong colour to be a 'Stevie' my mother called me Steven and you must ask me in the correct title or I will not answer you!"
me-"Ok barman, can i have coffee?"
He hates me and is sneering at me as I type, I am not getting a coffee, which is just as well as he may feel the need to piss in it.
I hope he meets a real nutter on the chatline and meets up with 'her' and actually is tied to a chair as a big baldy haired fucker called Tommy fists him whilst shouting "TAKE IT STEVIE -TAKE IT BIG BOY"
I am off to bed-goodnight!
rain and hotels
Well another rainy day in Leicester, I sit here in the lobby of the ancient but ok 'Grand Hotel' amongst the old Romanesque pillars that dominate the 'lounge', beneath the plastic atrium and can hear the rain drum out a tribal tune on the corrugated material masquerading as glass, I am sure the original was beautiful, why do they replace glass with plastic?
It took ages for the internet connection to link up with my laptop and this infuriated me and then i realised that my 'WI/FI card' was not inserted properly! Fool that I am.
I must admit that I like this old hotel, Jongleurs had originally deposited me into the local IBIS, it was situated on an 'island' amongst seven major roads and beside a hideous looking industrial estate behind the train station.
The room looked like one of those places you take someone else's husband for a fuck....yuk!
The bed was foamy and the toilet was literally like a 'Portaloo' constructed in your caravan of a room. I stayed one night and checked out next morning.
So here I am...in the old 'Grand' now called the Ramada Jarvis! Sounds like a name from some single mother in Glasgow.
I may go shopping and buy more stuff if the rain stays off.
Am quite tired so I may just actually go back to bed and hoepfully dream of George Clooney, that wont happen now I have actually 'requested' a dream, I will probably have a scary flesh slicing nightmare...so best not sleep!
I am looking forward to getting home and being with my family, though on Monday I am flying to London to have lunch with 'Observer' journalists, no idea why they want to chat over lunch....have they seen how much I can eat?
well, I am off....talk later.
It took ages for the internet connection to link up with my laptop and this infuriated me and then i realised that my 'WI/FI card' was not inserted properly! Fool that I am.
I must admit that I like this old hotel, Jongleurs had originally deposited me into the local IBIS, it was situated on an 'island' amongst seven major roads and beside a hideous looking industrial estate behind the train station.
The room looked like one of those places you take someone else's husband for a fuck....yuk!
The bed was foamy and the toilet was literally like a 'Portaloo' constructed in your caravan of a room. I stayed one night and checked out next morning.
So here I am...in the old 'Grand' now called the Ramada Jarvis! Sounds like a name from some single mother in Glasgow.
I may go shopping and buy more stuff if the rain stays off.
Am quite tired so I may just actually go back to bed and hoepfully dream of George Clooney, that wont happen now I have actually 'requested' a dream, I will probably have a scary flesh slicing nightmare...so best not sleep!
I am looking forward to getting home and being with my family, though on Monday I am flying to London to have lunch with 'Observer' journalists, no idea why they want to chat over lunch....have they seen how much I can eat?
well, I am off....talk later.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Love and weird dreams
Well I like Leicester, the gig is a big weird to say the least, I think I feel flat and am working the crowd too hard to get a laugh, but I do find the MC job a bit stiff as I want to go into big long funny stories and thats not my job, it has to be short and chatty....well I like longer things....there's a surprise!
I hope I AM DOING ok...sorry caps lock and am too lazy to go back and fix it.
Its very late and am sitting in the hotel lobby on their WI/FI and there is Tim Vine just checking in......I said hello, he is here to do some big theatre gig, he is coming back over to have a drink and a chat with me...not that you noticed I was gone or that i have had half an hour between that set of dots and this one.....funny eh?
I think I am in love. (Not with the lovely Mr Vine! I may add)
But just in love with ....well it feels odd to say it aloud but with my husband, I dont know if I should say this on the web but I seem to feel that I can tell you anything. I know he wont read this or the BOOK.
I had a call from him telling me that he knows that he gets the whole truth told about our marriage in the book, and already i have to defend or talk about why I stayed in the marriage and he is very very supportive of the book, it was not a happy time for me OR him...to be honest and I do have some regrets about what when on between us.
I was in a deep sleep last night and a nightmare started, I woke up in a strange room, really scared and leaned over to feel him and he wasnt there, I sat up in the dark and felt very bereft that he was missing. I even got up in a slightly confused state to look for him, I think i may be sleep walking again.
It's been a long long time since I felt that pain of missing him. I really missed him. I dont always miss him as I hardened myself for many years and kept my emotions very much in check, but lying there in the dark and feeling very vulnerable, i realised how much I wanted him near.
Dont worry dear heart, next week I will be me again and will balk at the very idea of love and stability and strength as a couple.
I dont mean i am a hard case who refuses and dismisses love, it's just been a long time since I cared this much and if you read the book you will know why.
I need to go. Bye
I hope I AM DOING ok...sorry caps lock and am too lazy to go back and fix it.
Its very late and am sitting in the hotel lobby on their WI/FI and there is Tim Vine just checking in......I said hello, he is here to do some big theatre gig, he is coming back over to have a drink and a chat with me...not that you noticed I was gone or that i have had half an hour between that set of dots and this one.....funny eh?
I think I am in love. (Not with the lovely Mr Vine! I may add)
But just in love with ....well it feels odd to say it aloud but with my husband, I dont know if I should say this on the web but I seem to feel that I can tell you anything. I know he wont read this or the BOOK.
I had a call from him telling me that he knows that he gets the whole truth told about our marriage in the book, and already i have to defend or talk about why I stayed in the marriage and he is very very supportive of the book, it was not a happy time for me OR him...to be honest and I do have some regrets about what when on between us.
I was in a deep sleep last night and a nightmare started, I woke up in a strange room, really scared and leaned over to feel him and he wasnt there, I sat up in the dark and felt very bereft that he was missing. I even got up in a slightly confused state to look for him, I think i may be sleep walking again.
It's been a long long time since I felt that pain of missing him. I really missed him. I dont always miss him as I hardened myself for many years and kept my emotions very much in check, but lying there in the dark and feeling very vulnerable, i realised how much I wanted him near.
Dont worry dear heart, next week I will be me again and will balk at the very idea of love and stability and strength as a couple.
I dont mean i am a hard case who refuses and dismisses love, it's just been a long time since I cared this much and if you read the book you will know why.
I need to go. Bye
WOW book of the month!
Just got great news my book that is being released in June has been nominated BOOK OF THE MONTH in WHSmith's in Scotland!
That put a smile on my face.
I am in leicester doing three nights at Jongleurs, the journey was horrid on that train, at one point we stopped ( Leaves on the fucking line???who'd thought stuff that fell from tress stopped a big electric engine? Maybe we should use that as bombs? Just drop wet leaves on another Nation to bring them to a halt?)
Anyway I watched sheep RACE down a hill...I kid you not, they fucking galloped, those wee white wooly fuckers can move, then one stopped as a bird swooped low and I swaer a sheep tried to bite it. It actually jumped and snapped its wee mouth at a big bird....I may have witnessed a sheep revolt. I dont know?
I need to go as the internet connection in the hotel is £5 for five minutes...thats officially more expensive than CRACK.
That put a smile on my face.
I am in leicester doing three nights at Jongleurs, the journey was horrid on that train, at one point we stopped ( Leaves on the fucking line???who'd thought stuff that fell from tress stopped a big electric engine? Maybe we should use that as bombs? Just drop wet leaves on another Nation to bring them to a halt?)
Anyway I watched sheep RACE down a hill...I kid you not, they fucking galloped, those wee white wooly fuckers can move, then one stopped as a bird swooped low and I swaer a sheep tried to bite it. It actually jumped and snapped its wee mouth at a big bird....I may have witnessed a sheep revolt. I dont know?
I need to go as the internet connection in the hotel is £5 for five minutes...thats officially more expensive than CRACK.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Sex and life
Yes I know montonjon my blog buddy does get annoyed when I mention 'SEX' in the title then it appears to have none in the content.
So here goes and I hope my lovely step mum is not reading this-(she keeps telling me she isn't BUT i suspect she is).
I have had four people now read my book and all are aghast at the sex scenes involved. I know and I know it's difficult to read, as the sex scenes involve me being abused as a child. The good news is- that it is only a small part of the book-in fact a VERY small part, and my pals who have read this book tell me the rest of the book makes you smile/cry/laugh aloud/shocks/page-flick/astound and think....this cannot be a bad thing eh?
(I know my happy bloggers-not quite the sex content you expected!)
But trust me I am off to play Leicester Jongleurs for three nights and on Monday I am in London having lunch with Observer people -I have no time for sex right now.
Though that doesn't stop me from bringing along that now infamous big black man that lives inside my head! He keeps me busy-thnak God for my imagination.
Healthwise i am feeling very tired and have strangely enough 'cracked and bleeding heels' I think this is a result of wearing flat uncushioned summer flappy sandals that are letting my feet bang hard on the ground as I walk with no support-Holy Fuck...I am talking about support sandals and support shoes...I am old. It's official, soon I will need special fitting surgical shoes and special pants and special bra's to hold up my saggy boobs and body.
I am off to through myself off a bridge.
Only yesterday I bought myself lovely underwear and was happy about the shape they give me and the colours were great (pink and acid green!) now I need support tights.
The stress is getting a bit better, I can see how to time manage myself throughout the Soho theater run and do the book launch and rehearse, I have good pals around me and good people who help.
I have gave Ashley a set fee to let her use on an extra publicity strategy and she has come up trumps by designing a tee shirt and getting a great deal from a local trader!
it says on it
JANEY GODLEY IS.......
and on the back
INNOCENT!
UNDERBELLY VENUE 61 10pm.
I am hoping it all goes well. Must go heels hurt and probably as I speak my womb is slowly falling down, my kidney's will be failing and my hair will be getting grey by the minute.
So here goes and I hope my lovely step mum is not reading this-(she keeps telling me she isn't BUT i suspect she is).
I have had four people now read my book and all are aghast at the sex scenes involved. I know and I know it's difficult to read, as the sex scenes involve me being abused as a child. The good news is- that it is only a small part of the book-in fact a VERY small part, and my pals who have read this book tell me the rest of the book makes you smile/cry/laugh aloud/shocks/page-flick/astound and think....this cannot be a bad thing eh?
(I know my happy bloggers-not quite the sex content you expected!)
But trust me I am off to play Leicester Jongleurs for three nights and on Monday I am in London having lunch with Observer people -I have no time for sex right now.
Though that doesn't stop me from bringing along that now infamous big black man that lives inside my head! He keeps me busy-thnak God for my imagination.
Healthwise i am feeling very tired and have strangely enough 'cracked and bleeding heels' I think this is a result of wearing flat uncushioned summer flappy sandals that are letting my feet bang hard on the ground as I walk with no support-Holy Fuck...I am talking about support sandals and support shoes...I am old. It's official, soon I will need special fitting surgical shoes and special pants and special bra's to hold up my saggy boobs and body.
I am off to through myself off a bridge.
Only yesterday I bought myself lovely underwear and was happy about the shape they give me and the colours were great (pink and acid green!) now I need support tights.
The stress is getting a bit better, I can see how to time manage myself throughout the Soho theater run and do the book launch and rehearse, I have good pals around me and good people who help.
I have gave Ashley a set fee to let her use on an extra publicity strategy and she has come up trumps by designing a tee shirt and getting a great deal from a local trader!
it says on it
JANEY GODLEY IS.......
and on the back
INNOCENT!
UNDERBELLY VENUE 61 10pm.
I am hoping it all goes well. Must go heels hurt and probably as I speak my womb is slowly falling down, my kidney's will be failing and my hair will be getting grey by the minute.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Geeks and freaks
I had to go back to the IPOD shop as Ashley's IPOD stuck and would not move from being on 'Busted'. I alone would have never taken it back and let anyone know I listened to 'Busted', I would have forfeited the right to the use of the gadget -she should have hung her head in shame.
Anyway the 'Uber-Geek' in the shop (he was dressed in grey acrylic 'slacks' with a definitive crease down the front and a tight white heavily pressed summer white shirt) took me aside and showed me how to re-set the IPOD.
I casually asked him how to the play my music in my car.
Geek-" Well prepare yourself to tackle this with certain moral fibre"
Ashley and I looked at each other and sniggered.
Geek-"What I am about to tell you is highly illegal"
me-"Is it more illegal than selling heroin or child trafficking?"
Geek-"No...( he looks shocked at this) but what it is-is, you have to buy this gizmo and at this point I have to legally tell you that we disapprove of such activity and if the police stop you, you are in big trouble...."
Me-"Is this more trouble than getting caught with guns and semetex?"
Geek-"No ( he looks horrified at this) but it is basically a small gadget that is basically a radio reciever and transmitter that is like a pirate radio station device"
me-"Are you telling me I have to fucking launch a radio station thats illegal in my car to fucking hear my IPOD tunes?"
Geek-"Yes, but I have one and......."
Me-"Ok if you have one I am not getting it, you are a real geekazoid"
Geek-"Well I wouldnt say I was a geek BUT I am getting dressed up to see the new Star Wars film"
Me-"Ok that settles it then, I am not having it. Do you sell them just out of interest?"
Geek-"No but I can give you the email of a man on EBAY who sells it and tell him I sent you so I get the cut off the deal"
Me-"Are you fucking serious? You are getting a cut off a weirdo called ( I look at the paper he handed me) Gizmozoider who 'deals' in small radio receivers? Is this the limit to your 'Underground IPOD' racket?, fucking hell your life is one big round of James Bond activity!"
We all laughed and I thanked him and left the shop.
I am not buying some shitty radio reciever that may alert the police to me, I have form...thats all I need and can you imagine the shame of getting caught listening to Carly Simon? I am not going to court for that! No way!
Guns and semtex yes....illegally listening to some soft rock???....NO.
Anyway the 'Uber-Geek' in the shop (he was dressed in grey acrylic 'slacks' with a definitive crease down the front and a tight white heavily pressed summer white shirt) took me aside and showed me how to re-set the IPOD.
I casually asked him how to the play my music in my car.
Geek-" Well prepare yourself to tackle this with certain moral fibre"
Ashley and I looked at each other and sniggered.
Geek-"What I am about to tell you is highly illegal"
me-"Is it more illegal than selling heroin or child trafficking?"
Geek-"No...( he looks shocked at this) but what it is-is, you have to buy this gizmo and at this point I have to legally tell you that we disapprove of such activity and if the police stop you, you are in big trouble...."
Me-"Is this more trouble than getting caught with guns and semetex?"
Geek-"No ( he looks horrified at this) but it is basically a small gadget that is basically a radio reciever and transmitter that is like a pirate radio station device"
me-"Are you telling me I have to fucking launch a radio station thats illegal in my car to fucking hear my IPOD tunes?"
Geek-"Yes, but I have one and......."
Me-"Ok if you have one I am not getting it, you are a real geekazoid"
Geek-"Well I wouldnt say I was a geek BUT I am getting dressed up to see the new Star Wars film"
Me-"Ok that settles it then, I am not having it. Do you sell them just out of interest?"
Geek-"No but I can give you the email of a man on EBAY who sells it and tell him I sent you so I get the cut off the deal"
Me-"Are you fucking serious? You are getting a cut off a weirdo called ( I look at the paper he handed me) Gizmozoider who 'deals' in small radio receivers? Is this the limit to your 'Underground IPOD' racket?, fucking hell your life is one big round of James Bond activity!"
We all laughed and I thanked him and left the shop.
I am not buying some shitty radio reciever that may alert the police to me, I have form...thats all I need and can you imagine the shame of getting caught listening to Carly Simon? I am not going to court for that! No way!
Guns and semtex yes....illegally listening to some soft rock???....NO.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Photo shoot and funny times
I got woke up this morning by yet another cold calling fuckwad.
Fuckwad-"Hello can I speak to the person who pays the phonebill?"
me-"No I would let you chat to him but he is on the run for fraud and suspected terrorist activity, wake me up again to sell me something and I will fucking trace this call using his specialist spyware, find out who you are and come round and harm your family"
Fuckwad-"Bye"
I know they have a job to do, but I have seventeen fuckwad calls this week!
Ashley was working temp job last week where she helps in a kitchen serving scones and sandwiches to some local council department. I have no idea who thought it would be ok to let her run a kitchen, like me domesticity is not her forte.
She has had a gas blow out in the oven which set off an alarm, she has broke the gas pilot light and set off an alarm, she has set fire to paper doillies in the gas oven and set off an alarm, she broke the water boiler by leaving it on and blowing the element, she broke the waste disposal unit with a fork and then she constantly fed the leftover food to the local wild life resulting in scavenging foxes, small rabbits and snuffling hedghogs actually waiting at the back door on the 'big lassie with black hair' coming with scraps. I had visions of Ashley with wee birds on her hands, whilst small woodland creatures followed her about like Snow White through the East Renfrewshire landscape.
She came with me today to get my photo's done.
We arrived at the Hilton and was introduced to the photographer and make up artist. The make up girl was lovely, she put loads of nice stuff on my face that managed to temporarily hide the fact that I am 44 and covered in either red lines or wrinkles. I dressed in white skirt and white top, and the dude took pictures of Ashley and I together as well as one's on my own.
The interview with the journalist went fine, she told me she liked the book (well she would I suppose!) but she was very interesting and asked lots of original questions that I am sure by the end of June will be fucking so un-original, but first time round they were pretty worthwhile. I liked her, she had a nice honest face and was very focussed on her job. The piece should go in this week.
I am stressed, I have to admit I am quite stressed. Due to unforseen circumstances and bad forward planning I am now worried that the rehearsal time at Soho Theatre (Which I badly need) is going to be compromised by doing interviews and press for the book in the week of 1st June onwards.
I wish the book launch and stage play were not the same week, why did that happen? I will just have to do my best and make sure everything falls into place.
I got the proof for my entry into the Underbelly Brochure for my comedy show at the Fringe this year and there was a glaring ommision- the title of my show was missing. It was easily sorted and I am sure I am fretting over nothing that is what proof copying is for!
I have managed to get accomodation in London and thats a good thing, I am still trying to get accomodation for Edinburgh and I need to get a caravan/motorhome for Glastonbury. I am stressed> I have been hair pulling again!
Life goes on and I worry over the little things that should not bother me.
Other people have bigger worries, someone out there has a child missing, a cancer scare, a dead partner...I mean I need to get a grip! The world is ok, all is good, my child is fine, my family are safe I am off to pull my own head out of my own arse!
Fuckwad-"Hello can I speak to the person who pays the phonebill?"
me-"No I would let you chat to him but he is on the run for fraud and suspected terrorist activity, wake me up again to sell me something and I will fucking trace this call using his specialist spyware, find out who you are and come round and harm your family"
Fuckwad-"Bye"
I know they have a job to do, but I have seventeen fuckwad calls this week!
Ashley was working temp job last week where she helps in a kitchen serving scones and sandwiches to some local council department. I have no idea who thought it would be ok to let her run a kitchen, like me domesticity is not her forte.
She has had a gas blow out in the oven which set off an alarm, she has broke the gas pilot light and set off an alarm, she has set fire to paper doillies in the gas oven and set off an alarm, she broke the water boiler by leaving it on and blowing the element, she broke the waste disposal unit with a fork and then she constantly fed the leftover food to the local wild life resulting in scavenging foxes, small rabbits and snuffling hedghogs actually waiting at the back door on the 'big lassie with black hair' coming with scraps. I had visions of Ashley with wee birds on her hands, whilst small woodland creatures followed her about like Snow White through the East Renfrewshire landscape.
She came with me today to get my photo's done.
We arrived at the Hilton and was introduced to the photographer and make up artist. The make up girl was lovely, she put loads of nice stuff on my face that managed to temporarily hide the fact that I am 44 and covered in either red lines or wrinkles. I dressed in white skirt and white top, and the dude took pictures of Ashley and I together as well as one's on my own.
The interview with the journalist went fine, she told me she liked the book (well she would I suppose!) but she was very interesting and asked lots of original questions that I am sure by the end of June will be fucking so un-original, but first time round they were pretty worthwhile. I liked her, she had a nice honest face and was very focussed on her job. The piece should go in this week.
I am stressed, I have to admit I am quite stressed. Due to unforseen circumstances and bad forward planning I am now worried that the rehearsal time at Soho Theatre (Which I badly need) is going to be compromised by doing interviews and press for the book in the week of 1st June onwards.
I wish the book launch and stage play were not the same week, why did that happen? I will just have to do my best and make sure everything falls into place.
I got the proof for my entry into the Underbelly Brochure for my comedy show at the Fringe this year and there was a glaring ommision- the title of my show was missing. It was easily sorted and I am sure I am fretting over nothing that is what proof copying is for!
I have managed to get accomodation in London and thats a good thing, I am still trying to get accomodation for Edinburgh and I need to get a caravan/motorhome for Glastonbury. I am stressed> I have been hair pulling again!
Life goes on and I worry over the little things that should not bother me.
Other people have bigger worries, someone out there has a child missing, a cancer scare, a dead partner...I mean I need to get a grip! The world is ok, all is good, my child is fine, my family are safe I am off to pull my own head out of my own arse!
Sunday, May 15, 2005
shopping and fucking
I woke up and decided I need more clothes, not only NEEDED them but had to have them NOW.
One spot of sunshine and I need cheesecloth, white cotton skirts, sandals and anything summery. Although I have clothes in my wardrobe that I have been looking at and adding to for nearly 30 years, but suddenly I have nothing that looks good for this interview tomorrow.
A National Newspaper is doing an adaptation of my book and I need to get photographed. I want to look nice.
Anyway I woke up husband and said “I need clothes please get up and drive me to the mall at Braehead”
Husband-“Don’t you actually have clothes in that closet?”
Me-“Yes but I want more”
Husband-“You don’t need more; you have hundreds of stuff in there”
Me-“Shut up, I want more clothes and I want to go there now”
Husband-“Ok then, but I am not coming into shops to look at things and comment on them”
Me-“I know you are not, why would I want you to come in with me? Have you had a stroke? You can sit in a café or go stare at digital cameras –you like that!”
So there we went. It is still hot outside. I had sunburn pains from yesterday and at last night ‘Babycham Funny Women’ I was onstage and was dying to scratch. The women on stage were really really good. I was amazed at the talent, especially a small Scottish act who did material about talking cats that dressed up and did a pastiche of Sound of Music-she was great, I forget her name but will go look for it and give her a proper mention.
Ashley did a good set, she was nervous before hand and never wrote any stuff down, she just winged it and she did pull it off. She got big laughs and I was stunned at how tall she looked up there, I know she is tall but holy Fuck my daughter looked like a towering giant on stage, she did very well I am proud.
Just wished my daughter hadn’t told everyone how I put hair remover cream on my legs and upper thighs and my tits are so saggy that as I sat and waited for the cream to work my nipple sagged down and got burned on the evil hair melting cream….thanks dear daughter!!!! I hasten to add that I actually leaned down to drink tea- that’s why my nipples reached my thighs as I sat there. (bitch)
Anyway back to the shopping expedition, husband said his goodbye’s and headed off in opposite direction. I went into big clothes store and was constantly stunned by the amount of men who wandered around with their wives/partners and I heard the men say things like
Man-“Yes that’s a nice colour, you have sandals that colour and that wee top you got last week would match that”
Woman-“Yes, do you like it in brown or green?”
Man-“I think green; you have a green bag that would match”
I was fucking annoyed, if I asked my husband “Do you like this?” he would smirk and just look at me as if I had said “Do you fancy cutting off your cock and maybe I will teach you how to run in stilettos?”
Not that he thinks picking clothes with me is a “Gay” thing, not at all, he is very much upfront about equality for gays and has protested on their behalf!
He just thinks that ‘Picking clothes with a woman’ is clearly a skill he will never obtain; he has been burned badly before early on in this relationship, way back when!
Much to my annoyance, there was FUCKING LOADS of men walking about, picking and commenting on the fashions with women, they cant all BE GAY….I was quite fucked off and told husband this when we met up and he laughed aloud and said “ I don’t care, I am not ever going to show interest in clothes, except the amount you spend, that is a great interest to me, do you want to discuss that?”
Me-“No, did you see any good digital cameras?”
He then spoke for an hour on cameras and my expensive shopping habit has been evaded….for today.
One spot of sunshine and I need cheesecloth, white cotton skirts, sandals and anything summery. Although I have clothes in my wardrobe that I have been looking at and adding to for nearly 30 years, but suddenly I have nothing that looks good for this interview tomorrow.
A National Newspaper is doing an adaptation of my book and I need to get photographed. I want to look nice.
Anyway I woke up husband and said “I need clothes please get up and drive me to the mall at Braehead”
Husband-“Don’t you actually have clothes in that closet?”
Me-“Yes but I want more”
Husband-“You don’t need more; you have hundreds of stuff in there”
Me-“Shut up, I want more clothes and I want to go there now”
Husband-“Ok then, but I am not coming into shops to look at things and comment on them”
Me-“I know you are not, why would I want you to come in with me? Have you had a stroke? You can sit in a café or go stare at digital cameras –you like that!”
So there we went. It is still hot outside. I had sunburn pains from yesterday and at last night ‘Babycham Funny Women’ I was onstage and was dying to scratch. The women on stage were really really good. I was amazed at the talent, especially a small Scottish act who did material about talking cats that dressed up and did a pastiche of Sound of Music-she was great, I forget her name but will go look for it and give her a proper mention.
Ashley did a good set, she was nervous before hand and never wrote any stuff down, she just winged it and she did pull it off. She got big laughs and I was stunned at how tall she looked up there, I know she is tall but holy Fuck my daughter looked like a towering giant on stage, she did very well I am proud.
Just wished my daughter hadn’t told everyone how I put hair remover cream on my legs and upper thighs and my tits are so saggy that as I sat and waited for the cream to work my nipple sagged down and got burned on the evil hair melting cream….thanks dear daughter!!!! I hasten to add that I actually leaned down to drink tea- that’s why my nipples reached my thighs as I sat there. (bitch)
Anyway back to the shopping expedition, husband said his goodbye’s and headed off in opposite direction. I went into big clothes store and was constantly stunned by the amount of men who wandered around with their wives/partners and I heard the men say things like
Man-“Yes that’s a nice colour, you have sandals that colour and that wee top you got last week would match that”
Woman-“Yes, do you like it in brown or green?”
Man-“I think green; you have a green bag that would match”
I was fucking annoyed, if I asked my husband “Do you like this?” he would smirk and just look at me as if I had said “Do you fancy cutting off your cock and maybe I will teach you how to run in stilettos?”
Not that he thinks picking clothes with me is a “Gay” thing, not at all, he is very much upfront about equality for gays and has protested on their behalf!
He just thinks that ‘Picking clothes with a woman’ is clearly a skill he will never obtain; he has been burned badly before early on in this relationship, way back when!
Much to my annoyance, there was FUCKING LOADS of men walking about, picking and commenting on the fashions with women, they cant all BE GAY….I was quite fucked off and told husband this when we met up and he laughed aloud and said “ I don’t care, I am not ever going to show interest in clothes, except the amount you spend, that is a great interest to me, do you want to discuss that?”
Me-“No, did you see any good digital cameras?”
He then spoke for an hour on cameras and my expensive shopping habit has been evaded….for today.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Janey Godley at the beach!
Yes, the stony beach at Millarochy was beautiful and the weather is just amazing, we packed a picnic and took along the nasty wind breaker that becomes a 'kite' if the wind is strong enough and actually managed to get it up. Ashley always takes the 'wee wind breaker' and lays down in the sunshine with her ipod stuck in her ears and ignores us...everytime.
I managed to being everything we needed for the lunch without forgetting a single itme....usualy a knife, or milk for the tea or tea bags for the tea!
Ashley dressed in her new shining bright white cheese cloth top and white sparkling gypsy skirt, picked up a tomato, bit it quick and I laughed as the bright red fruit burst and spurted down the white top and dripped onto the skirt.
She then got up to go to the toilet and slipped on her wee flip flops, flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder, smiled tunred to me and said "Do I look like Jesus dressed in all this white flowing stuff with drips of red on me?"
me-"Yes because Jesus looks like a tall white Scottish girl with breasts and flip flops and cool sunglasses carrying a top of the range IPOD!"
I have no idea what goes on in her head. She is doing comedy tonight, its been ages since she did a comedy gig. She started doing comedy when she was 10 and took her own show to Edinburgh fringe in 1999 at age 13 years old.
I think she is funny, she doesnt tell jokes, she tells funny scenarios and quirkly outlooks from her point of veiw.
Husband sat in the sun and went brown immediately whilst Ashley stayed white and I went red....well i have burnt the tops of my boobs! (again)
SEE PICS BENEATH!
I managed to being everything we needed for the lunch without forgetting a single itme....usualy a knife, or milk for the tea or tea bags for the tea!
Ashley dressed in her new shining bright white cheese cloth top and white sparkling gypsy skirt, picked up a tomato, bit it quick and I laughed as the bright red fruit burst and spurted down the white top and dripped onto the skirt.
She then got up to go to the toilet and slipped on her wee flip flops, flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder, smiled tunred to me and said "Do I look like Jesus dressed in all this white flowing stuff with drips of red on me?"
me-"Yes because Jesus looks like a tall white Scottish girl with breasts and flip flops and cool sunglasses carrying a top of the range IPOD!"
I have no idea what goes on in her head. She is doing comedy tonight, its been ages since she did a comedy gig. She started doing comedy when she was 10 and took her own show to Edinburgh fringe in 1999 at age 13 years old.
I think she is funny, she doesnt tell jokes, she tells funny scenarios and quirkly outlooks from her point of veiw.
Husband sat in the sun and went brown immediately whilst Ashley stayed white and I went red....well i have burnt the tops of my boobs! (again)
SEE PICS BENEATH!
Friday, May 13, 2005
Home at last
Am so glad to be home, husband picked me up at airport. Took me up to near the Campsie hills, the sun was bright and I loved the heat on my back as husband and I sat outside our fav pub on benches facing the Scottish hills.
I had to make a list of all the things I need to get done. Like, who else to invite to Glasgow book launch, book flat for London ( got info from Martin about a great one that has a fucking swimming pool beneath it!) I want that one! Need to also book flights for Ashley and I, there is many many more 'Things I need to get done'. Stressed but getting there.
Am doing an adaptation with a journalist on Monday for the book release. Apparently they want a pic of me and can I please wear a skirt? Wot the fuck?
Mind you I wore a skirt at the midwives conference and there was only four men amongst 810 women and I got chatted up! Yes that's a 0.05 chance with those odds of getting a 'come on' and I got it. He was well sexy and really tall ( I find that really sexy-love tall men) anyway he offered to walk me to the hotel.
him-"You were really good up there, can I walk you to your hotel?"
me-"I am old and not funny off stage, I talk too much and that shit about me being good in bed but crap at making soup is a big lie that I make up to make people laugh, also i have really sore period pains, unless you are coming with me to boil a kettle -make me tea and spend two hours giving me a professional scalp massage, then tell me all about your gay affairs, I have no interest in being with you"
sexy tall man-" I am not gay sorry, but I can rub your scalp providing it's near your thighs!"
me-"Fuck you ever delivering a baby if you think my scalp is near my crotch!"
We both laughed and I watched as he walked off. He got to the end of the corridor looked back and smiled.
Aw how nice....that's good for the ego.
Funnily enough I never had my usual 'Hotel Nightmare Sleep' maybe that's the key, I need to get chatted up by cute young men? Worth the research I say!
Am hoping weather stays good we are off to the beach tomorrow for our usual day of fun, picnic and having mock sarcastic fights that make Ashley and I laugh aloud but make husband all odd and stressed as he hates Ashley even saying the word 'ASS' (thats technically a swear word he says).
I still have not read the book.
Monica has called me six times today to tell me she loved the book...but why had I never told her some new detail she found out about me!
She now knows everything about me and can go on Mastermind and her specialist subject can be -ME! Janey Godley in the years 1962 till 1994.
Just downloaded Faith Evans...fucking great music so love it.
I had to make a list of all the things I need to get done. Like, who else to invite to Glasgow book launch, book flat for London ( got info from Martin about a great one that has a fucking swimming pool beneath it!) I want that one! Need to also book flights for Ashley and I, there is many many more 'Things I need to get done'. Stressed but getting there.
Am doing an adaptation with a journalist on Monday for the book release. Apparently they want a pic of me and can I please wear a skirt? Wot the fuck?
Mind you I wore a skirt at the midwives conference and there was only four men amongst 810 women and I got chatted up! Yes that's a 0.05 chance with those odds of getting a 'come on' and I got it. He was well sexy and really tall ( I find that really sexy-love tall men) anyway he offered to walk me to the hotel.
him-"You were really good up there, can I walk you to your hotel?"
me-"I am old and not funny off stage, I talk too much and that shit about me being good in bed but crap at making soup is a big lie that I make up to make people laugh, also i have really sore period pains, unless you are coming with me to boil a kettle -make me tea and spend two hours giving me a professional scalp massage, then tell me all about your gay affairs, I have no interest in being with you"
sexy tall man-" I am not gay sorry, but I can rub your scalp providing it's near your thighs!"
me-"Fuck you ever delivering a baby if you think my scalp is near my crotch!"
We both laughed and I watched as he walked off. He got to the end of the corridor looked back and smiled.
Aw how nice....that's good for the ego.
Funnily enough I never had my usual 'Hotel Nightmare Sleep' maybe that's the key, I need to get chatted up by cute young men? Worth the research I say!
Am hoping weather stays good we are off to the beach tomorrow for our usual day of fun, picnic and having mock sarcastic fights that make Ashley and I laugh aloud but make husband all odd and stressed as he hates Ashley even saying the word 'ASS' (thats technically a swear word he says).
I still have not read the book.
Monica has called me six times today to tell me she loved the book...but why had I never told her some new detail she found out about me!
She now knows everything about me and can go on Mastermind and her specialist subject can be -ME! Janey Godley in the years 1962 till 1994.
Just downloaded Faith Evans...fucking great music so love it.
harrogate and sexy words
Sorry i have been quiet for two days, but i was engrossed in a good book! hahaha am joking I cant really read my own book, it feels too odd.
Flew to Leeds/Bradford yesterday and the plane was one of those wee 'focker' types. I love a plane that sounds like a swear word. I kept banging my head on the overhead bit as I am really small and not used to having to duck into things and under objects!
Horrgate is truly beautiful and the gig was great 1000+ women all there to enjoy the entertainment for their Midwives conference dinner. They asked me did I want to give people a two minute warning incase I offended anyone!
I said "Fuck off I dont offend people!"
No I didn't i said "No, if you think I am offensive you should not have hired me"
I got up and faced 1000 midwives and said " I was told you ladies who everyday watch other women scream in childbirth are not used to strong language, so i am going to say the worst word -the word i know will make you scream- (I look at the organiser and he put his head down, the crowd sat quietly) I am going to say- OBSTETRICIAN"
The crowd cheered -1000 voices screamed with laughter, tables were being banged, feet stamped as they jumped to their feet and applauded!
You see midwives hate Obstetrician's more than the Tory party hates Asylum seekers!
The gig was sweet, it annoys me how people assume that I swear and am offensive even when asked not to be!
Reminded me of how OFCOM publicly accused me of saying 'cunt' live on TV when in actual fact it wasn't me, the good news is-I have a Government document to prove I never said it after i got my lawyers onto them.
I got up this morning in Harrogate and tried to find an internet shop. It was very very difficult.
me to wee post man in street-"Excuse me do you know if there is an internet shop in Harrogate?"
postman-"Where? here in Harrogate?"
me-"No Yugoslavia- YES here in Harrogate why would I want to ask you if there was internet in another city?"
postman-"No we dont have no internet here"
me-"Ok"
Finally a wee big issue seller told me to go to the library.
So I come in and tried to open my Wan
Flew to Leeds/Bradford yesterday and the plane was one of those wee 'focker' types. I love a plane that sounds like a swear word. I kept banging my head on the overhead bit as I am really small and not used to having to duck into things and under objects!
Horrgate is truly beautiful and the gig was great 1000+ women all there to enjoy the entertainment for their Midwives conference dinner. They asked me did I want to give people a two minute warning incase I offended anyone!
I said "Fuck off I dont offend people!"
No I didn't i said "No, if you think I am offensive you should not have hired me"
I got up and faced 1000 midwives and said " I was told you ladies who everyday watch other women scream in childbirth are not used to strong language, so i am going to say the worst word -the word i know will make you scream- (I look at the organiser and he put his head down, the crowd sat quietly) I am going to say- OBSTETRICIAN"
The crowd cheered -1000 voices screamed with laughter, tables were being banged, feet stamped as they jumped to their feet and applauded!
You see midwives hate Obstetrician's more than the Tory party hates Asylum seekers!
The gig was sweet, it annoys me how people assume that I swear and am offensive even when asked not to be!
Reminded me of how OFCOM publicly accused me of saying 'cunt' live on TV when in actual fact it wasn't me, the good news is-I have a Government document to prove I never said it after i got my lawyers onto them.
I got up this morning in Harrogate and tried to find an internet shop. It was very very difficult.
me to wee post man in street-"Excuse me do you know if there is an internet shop in Harrogate?"
postman-"Where? here in Harrogate?"
me-"No Yugoslavia- YES here in Harrogate why would I want to ask you if there was internet in another city?"
postman-"No we dont have no internet here"
me-"Ok"
Finally a wee big issue seller told me to go to the library.
So I come in and tried to open my Wan
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Book and sadness in Maryhill
The book has arrived, I can hardly believe it!
I was woken up by the postman very early and husband got up and signed for it. The parcel was brought into my room and I said “Just put it on the floor”
Husband “Don’t you want to open and read it?"
Me –“No I know what happens, I know the ending” And I fell back asleep.
I woke with a start and remembered that it was there. I saw the white parcel sit on my floor. My heart raced when I looked at it but I felt I could just not touch the parcel or even begin to open it. I even hovered around it.
Husband came through, bent down, lifted the parcel and ripped it open. The book came out. He handed it to me, I opened it up and smelt the new-ness of it. Words flickered by, names I recognised ‘George, Mammy and Ashley’ all there printed in that book is my past and my dead mother’s life –as I saw it.
We got in the car and I took it up to my dad’s and gave it to my step mum. She has been my mum for 23 years now, she knows me as the adult my mammy never got to really see. My step mum knows me as a mother- my own mammy never got to see that.
I am excited and anxious that people will enjoy it but I am acutely aware of how hard parts will be to read - for the people who know me.
I know this as Monica cried today reading it (she got a book biked over to her office at 3pm).
She called me in tears!
I am not that child anymore, I am me.
A whole person with a whole life ahead of me.
Hope whoever out there buys it will enjoy the journey.
There was many tears today, on this day last year the Stockline plasicts factory blast killed and injured many people. It is the building round the corner from my house.
I ran out on hearing the noise and took photo's of the destruction that made that nights front page news with my picture of the horror magnified in full colour.
I have no idea why I ran and took the phot, but I am glad I did as it informed all the rush hour commuters of the horror unfolding that resulted in tragedy .
I saw all the bereaved and families of the injured, the brave fire fighters and officials today lay a wreath at the site.
That is something to cry real tears about.
I was woken up by the postman very early and husband got up and signed for it. The parcel was brought into my room and I said “Just put it on the floor”
Husband “Don’t you want to open and read it?"
Me –“No I know what happens, I know the ending” And I fell back asleep.
I woke with a start and remembered that it was there. I saw the white parcel sit on my floor. My heart raced when I looked at it but I felt I could just not touch the parcel or even begin to open it. I even hovered around it.
Husband came through, bent down, lifted the parcel and ripped it open. The book came out. He handed it to me, I opened it up and smelt the new-ness of it. Words flickered by, names I recognised ‘George, Mammy and Ashley’ all there printed in that book is my past and my dead mother’s life –as I saw it.
We got in the car and I took it up to my dad’s and gave it to my step mum. She has been my mum for 23 years now, she knows me as the adult my mammy never got to really see. My step mum knows me as a mother- my own mammy never got to see that.
I am excited and anxious that people will enjoy it but I am acutely aware of how hard parts will be to read - for the people who know me.
I know this as Monica cried today reading it (she got a book biked over to her office at 3pm).
She called me in tears!
I am not that child anymore, I am me.
A whole person with a whole life ahead of me.
Hope whoever out there buys it will enjoy the journey.
There was many tears today, on this day last year the Stockline plasicts factory blast killed and injured many people. It is the building round the corner from my house.
I ran out on hearing the noise and took photo's of the destruction that made that nights front page news with my picture of the horror magnified in full colour.
I have no idea why I ran and took the phot, but I am glad I did as it informed all the rush hour commuters of the horror unfolding that resulted in tragedy .
I saw all the bereaved and families of the injured, the brave fire fighters and officials today lay a wreath at the site.
That is something to cry real tears about.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Book arrives tomorrow
I cant quite believe that this time tomorrow I will have my book in my very own wee hands!
Seems weird and exciting.
Woke up this morning with my phone screaming to be answered, I was having horrific nightmares so was glad of the clarion call to normality. The only problem is that when I get called in the middle of a nightmare I get all fuzzy and befuddled on the phone! It was my 'Womens speakers agent' ( lady who books me for speakers gigs) her very posh and loud English jolly voice was making no sense and only noise in my ears.
Eventually my brain got kickstarted into gear and I understood the conversation, I am flying to Leeds/Bradford for a gig in Harrogate this Thursday and that was the flight times confirmed. I love these gigs- great pay- great hotel and great fun. How cool to entertain 600 midwives! I am lucky.
The nightmare stayed in the back of my head all day, just waiting and lurking there like a bad smell, occasionally flashing up like a subliminal advert imprinted into my cells , making my warm skin prickle with fear, even when I was not expecting the feeling to be there -not sure with itself whether to transform into a slow sharp grinding headache or stay there to drip insecurity into my brain. I tried my best to ignore it but then I felt quite flat and detached all day long.
It's hard work ignoring yourself. Trust me. I tried it.
Seems weird and exciting.
Woke up this morning with my phone screaming to be answered, I was having horrific nightmares so was glad of the clarion call to normality. The only problem is that when I get called in the middle of a nightmare I get all fuzzy and befuddled on the phone! It was my 'Womens speakers agent' ( lady who books me for speakers gigs) her very posh and loud English jolly voice was making no sense and only noise in my ears.
Eventually my brain got kickstarted into gear and I understood the conversation, I am flying to Leeds/Bradford for a gig in Harrogate this Thursday and that was the flight times confirmed. I love these gigs- great pay- great hotel and great fun. How cool to entertain 600 midwives! I am lucky.
The nightmare stayed in the back of my head all day, just waiting and lurking there like a bad smell, occasionally flashing up like a subliminal advert imprinted into my cells , making my warm skin prickle with fear, even when I was not expecting the feeling to be there -not sure with itself whether to transform into a slow sharp grinding headache or stay there to drip insecurity into my brain. I tried my best to ignore it but then I felt quite flat and detached all day long.
It's hard work ignoring yourself. Trust me. I tried it.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Read This before the world ends....for me!
I need everyone out there to help me work out HOW ANYONE actually finds my blog on this site> I have logged out and logged under a new name and STILL CANT FIND myself, i dont know if anyone is even reading this shit? Am I shouting into the world with an empty fucking voice? Is this a waste of me even writing?
either was check out my my website www.janeygodley.co.uk
Can anyone tell me how to get a counter on this site without me punching the screen and hating this site more than I currently hate Bush and Blair?
either was check out my my website www.janeygodley.co.uk
Can anyone tell me how to get a counter on this site without me punching the screen and hating this site more than I currently hate Bush and Blair?
anger and madness
I turned into the devil yesterday. That's why there was no blog printed either.
I got up and took some pics and moved them into a new file on my laptop. Husband spotted me doing this, deleted my new file and moved them into 'Janey's pics' without asking me if that was what I wanted.
No! it fucking was not what I wanted, I went mental and screamed 'You are trying to control my life you bastard' and went to bed for the rest of the day. When he tried to talk to me I decided to tell him I wanted a divorce and the sooner he got used to that idea the better. I was justified, he had moved my pictures to a new file without my consent.
As I explained this hineous crime to Ashley she smiled and said "Yes, that's clearly akin to murder, leave the organised wierdo" She looked at me as if I was in need of Prozac.
I forced myself back to sleep till my head hurt through sleeping with my teeth gnashing.
'I may have over reacted a bit' I told him this morning.
It took me two hours to admit I am a psycho and am sorry.
The book arrives on Wednesday and am excited but will probably throw another childish strop tonight! I need Dr Tanya the child psycologist to come and 'time out' my behaviour.
The gig on Saturday night went amazingly well, Billy Bonkers had a good crowd in and they laughed in all the right places, I was trying out new material for my forth coming Edinburgh show 'Janey Godley is Innocent'.
Right now after all my nasty behaviour----I feel guilty.
I think husband is packing and may well run away and take his child with him in case I turn into wolverine snappy woman again.
I got up and took some pics and moved them into a new file on my laptop. Husband spotted me doing this, deleted my new file and moved them into 'Janey's pics' without asking me if that was what I wanted.
No! it fucking was not what I wanted, I went mental and screamed 'You are trying to control my life you bastard' and went to bed for the rest of the day. When he tried to talk to me I decided to tell him I wanted a divorce and the sooner he got used to that idea the better. I was justified, he had moved my pictures to a new file without my consent.
As I explained this hineous crime to Ashley she smiled and said "Yes, that's clearly akin to murder, leave the organised wierdo" She looked at me as if I was in need of Prozac.
I forced myself back to sleep till my head hurt through sleeping with my teeth gnashing.
'I may have over reacted a bit' I told him this morning.
It took me two hours to admit I am a psycho and am sorry.
The book arrives on Wednesday and am excited but will probably throw another childish strop tonight! I need Dr Tanya the child psycologist to come and 'time out' my behaviour.
The gig on Saturday night went amazingly well, Billy Bonkers had a good crowd in and they laughed in all the right places, I was trying out new material for my forth coming Edinburgh show 'Janey Godley is Innocent'.
Right now after all my nasty behaviour----I feel guilty.
I think husband is packing and may well run away and take his child with him in case I turn into wolverine snappy woman again.
Friday, May 06, 2005
El Presidente are sex and rock and roll
El Presidente are El Presidente are sex and rock and roll
Well my mates are doing well eh? This Scottish band are being hailed as the 'Best thing to come out of Scotland since Franz Ferdinand' I love it!
Dante and Jules the singing songwriting team behind El Presidente wrote the title music for 'Smack- The Point of Yes' my play. They are awesome and am hoping they will make the UK top ten next week.
My daughter ashley has decided to get a good digital video camera and wants to make a 'documentry' of this exciting time for me as the book comes out and the play goes to Soho, and performing at Glastonbury, the book launches in Glasgow and London and the book signings.
She did some good camera work last year at the Fringe and interviewed Ricky Gervais, Jimmy Carr, Jenny Eclair and few other big names. It turned out really well and she just wants to keep a memory file of this busiest year.
I got great news...My book will be in my hand on Wednesday, I am so fired up for it but I think it will be emotional, Ashley wants the camera to record the moment when we open the box and actually see the book.
She wants to record all the 'wee incidents' like me getting up during the night to clean ( I know it's a stress thing), me eating and pulling my hair ( why?) me shouting and throwing a strop ( Please?).
So I need to go get a decent camera, Ashley is off to University this year to study film making and screen play writing. I will so miss her.
She will be living in the halls of residence, but she will be surrounded by loads of people who are deeply interested in the same things she is into.
I am going to die without her. She is such a big part of my life, there is not many people in my life that make me laugh as much or 'get me'. We can both be in the street and both our eyes would fall on the same thing and both of us would look and laugh at the same time at the same wee incidental obscure thing. I love her so much and am trying to spend as much time with her before she goes onto this next part of her life.
I know I am being over fussy and over protective and probably will suffer from empty nest syndrome, the good news is I have so much happening this year that I may not miss her so much...or at least thats what I am hoping.
Maybe husband and I can maybe turn into those fat old couples, who have big hand knitted jumpers with their pet cat's face displayed on the front, all knitted in mohair and fluffy. We could take up' Rambling' and have a special flask for our tea and small seats in the back of our car and loads of maps.
Hang on a fucking minute I HAVE A SPECIAL FLASK AND SEATS AND MAPS in my car!
I love going to the stony beaches, walking through Scotland and having tea breaks at the foot of giant Scottish Hills!
Ok I dont have a 'Kintted cat jumper'......
I need to go and laugh with Ashley as Alan Partridge is on and we both scream at it with loud laffs.
Well my mates are doing well eh? This Scottish band are being hailed as the 'Best thing to come out of Scotland since Franz Ferdinand' I love it!
Dante and Jules the singing songwriting team behind El Presidente wrote the title music for 'Smack- The Point of Yes' my play. They are awesome and am hoping they will make the UK top ten next week.
My daughter ashley has decided to get a good digital video camera and wants to make a 'documentry' of this exciting time for me as the book comes out and the play goes to Soho, and performing at Glastonbury, the book launches in Glasgow and London and the book signings.
She did some good camera work last year at the Fringe and interviewed Ricky Gervais, Jimmy Carr, Jenny Eclair and few other big names. It turned out really well and she just wants to keep a memory file of this busiest year.
I got great news...My book will be in my hand on Wednesday, I am so fired up for it but I think it will be emotional, Ashley wants the camera to record the moment when we open the box and actually see the book.
She wants to record all the 'wee incidents' like me getting up during the night to clean ( I know it's a stress thing), me eating and pulling my hair ( why?) me shouting and throwing a strop ( Please?).
So I need to go get a decent camera, Ashley is off to University this year to study film making and screen play writing. I will so miss her.
She will be living in the halls of residence, but she will be surrounded by loads of people who are deeply interested in the same things she is into.
I am going to die without her. She is such a big part of my life, there is not many people in my life that make me laugh as much or 'get me'. We can both be in the street and both our eyes would fall on the same thing and both of us would look and laugh at the same time at the same wee incidental obscure thing. I love her so much and am trying to spend as much time with her before she goes onto this next part of her life.
I know I am being over fussy and over protective and probably will suffer from empty nest syndrome, the good news is I have so much happening this year that I may not miss her so much...or at least thats what I am hoping.
Maybe husband and I can maybe turn into those fat old couples, who have big hand knitted jumpers with their pet cat's face displayed on the front, all knitted in mohair and fluffy. We could take up' Rambling' and have a special flask for our tea and small seats in the back of our car and loads of maps.
Hang on a fucking minute I HAVE A SPECIAL FLASK AND SEATS AND MAPS in my car!
I love going to the stony beaches, walking through Scotland and having tea breaks at the foot of giant Scottish Hills!
Ok I dont have a 'Kintted cat jumper'......
I need to go and laugh with Ashley as Alan Partridge is on and we both scream at it with loud laffs.
Well my mates are doing well eh? This Scottish band are being hailed as the 'Best thing to come out of Scotland since Franz Ferdinand' I love it!
Dante and Jules the singing songwriting team behind El Presidente wrote the title music for 'Smack- The Point of Yes' my play. They are awesome and am hoping they will make the UK top ten next week.
My daughter ashley has decided to get a good digital video camera and wants to make a 'documentry' of this exciting time for me as the book comes out and the play goes to Soho, and performing at Glastonbury, the book launches in Glasgow and London and the book signings.
She did some good camera work last year at the Fringe and interviewed Ricky Gervais, Jimmy Carr, Jenny Eclair and few other big names. It turned out really well and she just wants to keep a memory file of this busiest year.
I got great news...My book will be in my hand on Wednesday, I am so fired up for it but I think it will be emotional, Ashley wants the camera to record the moment when we open the box and actually see the book.
She wants to record all the 'wee incidents' like me getting up during the night to clean ( I know it's a stress thing), me eating and pulling my hair ( why?) me shouting and throwing a strop ( Please?).
So I need to go get a decent camera, Ashley is off to University this year to study film making and screen play writing. I will so miss her.
She will be living in the halls of residence, but she will be surrounded by loads of people who are deeply interested in the same things she is into.
I am going to die without her. She is such a big part of my life, there is not many people in my life that make me laugh as much or 'get me'. We can both be in the street and both our eyes would fall on the same thing and both of us would look and laugh at the same time at the same wee incidental obscure thing. I love her so much and am trying to spend as much time with her before she goes onto this next part of her life.
I know I am being over fussy and over protective and probably will suffer from empty nest syndrome, the good news is I have so much happening this year that I may not miss her so much...or at least thats what I am hoping.
Maybe husband and I can maybe turn into those fat old couples, who have big hand knitted jumpers with their pet cat's face displayed on the front, all knitted in mohair and fluffy. We could take up' Rambling' and have a special flask for our tea and small seats in the back of our car and loads of maps.
Hang on a fucking minute I HAVE A SPECIAL FLASK AND SEATS AND MAPS in my car!
I love going to the stony beaches, walking through Scotland and having tea breaks at the foot of giant Scottish Hills!
Ok I dont have a 'Kintted cat jumper'......
I need to go and laugh with Ashley as Alan Partridge is on and we both scream at it with loud laffs.
Well my mates are doing well eh? This Scottish band are being hailed as the 'Best thing to come out of Scotland since Franz Ferdinand' I love it!
Dante and Jules the singing songwriting team behind El Presidente wrote the title music for 'Smack- The Point of Yes' my play. They are awesome and am hoping they will make the UK top ten next week.
My daughter ashley has decided to get a good digital video camera and wants to make a 'documentry' of this exciting time for me as the book comes out and the play goes to Soho, and performing at Glastonbury, the book launches in Glasgow and London and the book signings.
She did some good camera work last year at the Fringe and interviewed Ricky Gervais, Jimmy Carr, Jenny Eclair and few other big names. It turned out really well and she just wants to keep a memory file of this busiest year.
I got great news...My book will be in my hand on Wednesday, I am so fired up for it but I think it will be emotional, Ashley wants the camera to record the moment when we open the box and actually see the book.
She wants to record all the 'wee incidents' like me getting up during the night to clean ( I know it's a stress thing), me eating and pulling my hair ( why?) me shouting and throwing a strop ( Please?).
So I need to go get a decent camera, Ashley is off to University this year to study film making and screen play writing. I will so miss her.
She will be living in the halls of residence, but she will be surrounded by loads of people who are deeply interested in the same things she is into.
I am going to die without her. She is such a big part of my life, there is not many people in my life that make me laugh as much or 'get me'. We can both be in the street and both our eyes would fall on the same thing and both of us would look and laugh at the same time at the same wee incidental obscure thing. I love her so much and am trying to spend as much time with her before she goes onto this next part of her life.
I know I am being over fussy and over protective and probably will suffer from empty nest syndrome, the good news is I have so much happening this year that I may not miss her so much...or at least thats what I am hoping.
Maybe husband and I can maybe turn into those fat old couples, who have big hand knitted jumpers with their pet cat's face displayed on the front, all knitted in mohair and fluffy. We could take up' Rambling' and have a special flask for our tea and small seats in the back of our car and loads of maps.
Hang on a fucking minute I HAVE A SPECIAL FLASK AND SEATS AND MAPS in my car!
I love going to the stony beaches, walking through Scotland and having tea breaks at the foot of giant Scottish Hills!
Ok I dont have a 'Kintted cat jumper'......
I need to go and laugh with Ashley as Alan Partridge is on and we both scream at it with loud laffs.
Blair is the Devil
I am tired, I was up all night trying use my psychic powers to slowly melt Tony Blair, even as he was speaking i was shouting "Pillow him"- Just a small dose of suffocation would do it.
Cant believe he is back in charge, I am going to live 'under the sea'.
Got a lovely card from the Drug Forum people for the performance of my play 'Smack-The Point of Yes'. It was staged as part of their drug awareness week. The play does not purport to 'stop' drugs, in fact the character in the play who takes drugs actually enjoys that she had the choice to do so.
I remember when i staged it for the Long term Lifer's in Shotts prison, the guys there really enjoyed it as it did use language and tackle subjects that they had dealt with. I cant wait to get on stage at Soho Theatre with it!
The Scotsman newspaper ran a nice piece quoting my blog today. That was good of them!
Got a nice review in the Times - It comments on the black man who lives inside my head! Well he is sexy and worth a mention. I think every girl should have one.
I have to go back to doctors this week as the lump in my left boob hurts again, I have had three needle biopsy things and two mamograms ( very important not to ignore a lump, even if you assume its just a build up of chocolate) and have been given the all clear but when it hurts my very dilligent Doctor likes to keep checking it. She is great at her job.
Sometimes it the nice male doc and he always treats me with utmost humility, but I feel I have wielded my overblown tits on him more than enough, when I come into his surgery I can see him wince and probably think
"Oh Dear God, Please dont let me have to see that fat woman's breasts again"
I am sure it will all be ok, and not cancer...unlike the country...if only we could cut that fucking lump out of our system. War hungry lying beast Blair.
Cant believe he is back in charge, I am going to live 'under the sea'.
Got a lovely card from the Drug Forum people for the performance of my play 'Smack-The Point of Yes'. It was staged as part of their drug awareness week. The play does not purport to 'stop' drugs, in fact the character in the play who takes drugs actually enjoys that she had the choice to do so.
I remember when i staged it for the Long term Lifer's in Shotts prison, the guys there really enjoyed it as it did use language and tackle subjects that they had dealt with. I cant wait to get on stage at Soho Theatre with it!
The Scotsman newspaper ran a nice piece quoting my blog today. That was good of them!
Got a nice review in the Times - It comments on the black man who lives inside my head! Well he is sexy and worth a mention. I think every girl should have one.
I have to go back to doctors this week as the lump in my left boob hurts again, I have had three needle biopsy things and two mamograms ( very important not to ignore a lump, even if you assume its just a build up of chocolate) and have been given the all clear but when it hurts my very dilligent Doctor likes to keep checking it. She is great at her job.
Sometimes it the nice male doc and he always treats me with utmost humility, but I feel I have wielded my overblown tits on him more than enough, when I come into his surgery I can see him wince and probably think
"Oh Dear God, Please dont let me have to see that fat woman's breasts again"
I am sure it will all be ok, and not cancer...unlike the country...if only we could cut that fucking lump out of our system. War hungry lying beast Blair.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Award winning blog quoted in the press
I took a photo of my daughter holding her first ever voting card outside the Polling station. It was nice, I am so glad I have got her this far and she is ok and realtively normal.
Every birthday I used to smile and say "Look I got her to seven and I havent' broken her yet, she is still alive"
We had make to make a conscious solid decision not to laugh and make a mockery of the procession as my husband knew would do something attention seeking, thats who we are-my daughter and I.
As we walked into the big school where the voting was taking place, we had to pass a gauntlet of canvassers, all vying for our vote. Some of the guys were well fit and cute. As Ashley approached she smiled and said "I will vote for the your party if you give me a sexy twirl"
One guy actually twirrled.
I laughed as we walked in to our registrar. As we stood in line I saw a big board with all the parties and candidates clearly displayed.
Ashley gasped and blurted "Pope...it's says the POPE are we voting for a new Pope?"
I laughed aloud, there was a candidate called POPE representing some party. I started giggling and Ashley was trying to not laugh as the wee stern, stiff wool, tweedy, speccy lady was checking her name.
Husband glared at us, I snorted through my nose, Ashley burst out laughing as she tried to walk straight to the wooden booth....I finally composed myself to get my name checked and be passed my voting slip. As I stood at the shelf with pen in hand I heard Ashley say from the booth at the end "If white smoke comes out of my booth then you will know I have voted Pope"
The people in charge of the polling station hushed us down saying "No talking and shouting in here please"
That made me laugh even more, I thought my kidney was going to implode.
After we left we walked round to the supermarket.
Now I am addicted to Ben and Jerry's cookie ice cream sandwich. I was dreaming about eating one last night, the two fat crumbly cookies are chocked full of chips and the creamy vanilla ice cream inside is just sexual...what can I say?
I walked into the shop and headed straight for the chest freezer up the back. My eyes scanned the boxes of ice cream's but no familiar Ben and Jerry's ice cream box. I had a pain in my chest, there has to be a fucking Ben and Jerry's sandwich here or i will kill.
My eye's caught sight of the plastic wrapper, well at least the corner of the wrapper. It was right at the very back hiding behind a box of Wall's lollies. I leaned right over and tried hard to reach the wrapper with my finger tips, I was just too short. My boobs were now being crushed into my ribcage as I tip toed up and over and pushed my upper body further over the side to reach. The chest freezer is backed up against a wall with an overhead cupboard freezer above.
My arm, now extended to its full, dropped into the back and then my whole body up ended and I fell head first into the freezer, my legs dangling over the side and tits now crushed into Carte D'or chocolate swirl. I got the sandwich!
I had to be helped out of the frezzer by the wee guy who works there, I was shameless indeed, I had no embaressment, I was overjoyed to have my fingers round my ice cream.
I need to get more into my life!
Good news is that yesterdays comments on my blog about Gordon Brown are to be published in 'The Scotsman' newpaper tomorrow. This blog has attracted press attention and I was proud to tell them it won Journal Of The Week on Bravenet who host my website and blog (although it is copied and placed on eight other blogsites)
Thanks for everyone who voted for me and enabled me to get that prize.
I hope everyone else who voted in UK today get what they wish for.
Every birthday I used to smile and say "Look I got her to seven and I havent' broken her yet, she is still alive"
We had make to make a conscious solid decision not to laugh and make a mockery of the procession as my husband knew would do something attention seeking, thats who we are-my daughter and I.
As we walked into the big school where the voting was taking place, we had to pass a gauntlet of canvassers, all vying for our vote. Some of the guys were well fit and cute. As Ashley approached she smiled and said "I will vote for the your party if you give me a sexy twirl"
One guy actually twirrled.
I laughed as we walked in to our registrar. As we stood in line I saw a big board with all the parties and candidates clearly displayed.
Ashley gasped and blurted "Pope...it's says the POPE are we voting for a new Pope?"
I laughed aloud, there was a candidate called POPE representing some party. I started giggling and Ashley was trying to not laugh as the wee stern, stiff wool, tweedy, speccy lady was checking her name.
Husband glared at us, I snorted through my nose, Ashley burst out laughing as she tried to walk straight to the wooden booth....I finally composed myself to get my name checked and be passed my voting slip. As I stood at the shelf with pen in hand I heard Ashley say from the booth at the end "If white smoke comes out of my booth then you will know I have voted Pope"
The people in charge of the polling station hushed us down saying "No talking and shouting in here please"
That made me laugh even more, I thought my kidney was going to implode.
After we left we walked round to the supermarket.
Now I am addicted to Ben and Jerry's cookie ice cream sandwich. I was dreaming about eating one last night, the two fat crumbly cookies are chocked full of chips and the creamy vanilla ice cream inside is just sexual...what can I say?
I walked into the shop and headed straight for the chest freezer up the back. My eyes scanned the boxes of ice cream's but no familiar Ben and Jerry's ice cream box. I had a pain in my chest, there has to be a fucking Ben and Jerry's sandwich here or i will kill.
My eye's caught sight of the plastic wrapper, well at least the corner of the wrapper. It was right at the very back hiding behind a box of Wall's lollies. I leaned right over and tried hard to reach the wrapper with my finger tips, I was just too short. My boobs were now being crushed into my ribcage as I tip toed up and over and pushed my upper body further over the side to reach. The chest freezer is backed up against a wall with an overhead cupboard freezer above.
My arm, now extended to its full, dropped into the back and then my whole body up ended and I fell head first into the freezer, my legs dangling over the side and tits now crushed into Carte D'or chocolate swirl. I got the sandwich!
I had to be helped out of the frezzer by the wee guy who works there, I was shameless indeed, I had no embaressment, I was overjoyed to have my fingers round my ice cream.
I need to get more into my life!
Good news is that yesterdays comments on my blog about Gordon Brown are to be published in 'The Scotsman' newpaper tomorrow. This blog has attracted press attention and I was proud to tell them it won Journal Of The Week on Bravenet who host my website and blog (although it is copied and placed on eight other blogsites)
Thanks for everyone who voted for me and enabled me to get that prize.
I hope everyone else who voted in UK today get what they wish for.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Colin Farrell sex me up and how I stole from Gordon Brown
I read today in the newspaper that Colin Farrell, yet again spent two hours trying to seduce his co-star on location. 'What's new?' I hear you ask, well nothing is really new except the woman is Dame Eileen Atkins.
'Big deal' I hear you cry, he tried to fornicate with a bit of 'Posh Totty', yes I know this all sounds predictable and very familiar behaviour from the sexy Irish rogue.....
Dame Eileen Atkins is 70 years old.
She starred in the film 'Ask The Dust' with the Irish lad which will be released later this year.
Dame Eileen explained all on a live TV show yesterday, explaing that she was very impressed and loved every minute of the seduction, she refused his advances and she refused to name the famous man but her agents release Colin Farrell's name later and he DID CONFIRM IT!
Colin-"She is a sexy intelligent woman, I was very attracted to her"
This is great news, despite my wobbly thighs and slowly descending boobs COLIN would shag me!
I am off to perfect my diction, intellegent quotes and posh accent.
On another note, it's election day tomorrow and I am bored of the whole scenario already, my daughter has her first ever vote and asked me
Ashley-"Mum can i go into one booth and you go into the other and can i shout 'Mum who am I supposed to be at this polling station, do they know I am a failed Asylum seeker?"
me-"Please dont do that, we will get jailed or something"
Ashley-"Ok can i shout-'Mum why is the Nazi party not on here? and you can shout back-'Thats the Conservative's you cross for Nazi"
me-"Ok can we not do that either, why cant you just use your very first ever vote as a nice thing momentous thing to do, you know I was 18 on an election year as well, in 1979"
Ashley-"If you tell me you voted in Margaret Thatcher I swear I will burn you with an aerosol and lighter, I have perfected my long range burn spray"
me-"I thought I smelt burning in your room, are you actually burning an aerosol with a naked flame?"
Ashley-"Erm...I only did it once"
me-"For fucksake Ashley that is dangerous, when I sit down in my quiet time and consider what would be the most frightening thing to happen to you, I have pregnancy-HIV-Herpes-rape-car crash-heroin addiction all up there in the top fucking ten, I never thought at this age I had to worry about setting fire to your curtains at 19, you can't vote at all you are fucking a pyro maniac with the IQ of a rocking horse"
Ashley-" Calm down scary old woman, stop being a dreary cow I am never doing it again, Jesus you are a nut"
So the Election is upon us.
Back in late 80's I owned a bar and next door to it was spare room we gave to the local Labour Party group to use as a base, they never pais rent but I found out later they charged their own headquarters and kept the cash! ( How unlike the Labour Party!)
Anyway, one night Gordon Brown came in and had a long list of drinks to buy for 'The Troops on the Coalface of Politics' ( all the thieving Labourites next door) he barked out the drinks order and I had it up there on the bar in minutes. I whispered to my barman Wullie
me- "He is the shadow chancellor-he is the guy who controls the country's cash when he gets into power"
We both smiled and watched him with his wee pen counting up the order, I waited till he was finished and said '£34 please.' ( it was £12 over the real price) I watched as he blinked and then simply handed over his cash.
I stood there smiling at Wullie, who stared at me and raised his eyebrows as I had clearly vastly overcharged the man.
Brown said nothing.
Me-"See Wullie that fucker either cant count or cant cope with me overcharging him and cant challenge me and thats why I will never vote Labour"
I said it loud enough for him and the rest of my customers to hear. He simply went red and mumbled as he struggled to get all the drinks on one tray.
me-"Mr Brown dont over load the tray, you may find you have taken on more than you can carry"
That still appears to be true to this day!
'Big deal' I hear you cry, he tried to fornicate with a bit of 'Posh Totty', yes I know this all sounds predictable and very familiar behaviour from the sexy Irish rogue.....
Dame Eileen Atkins is 70 years old.
She starred in the film 'Ask The Dust' with the Irish lad which will be released later this year.
Dame Eileen explained all on a live TV show yesterday, explaing that she was very impressed and loved every minute of the seduction, she refused his advances and she refused to name the famous man but her agents release Colin Farrell's name later and he DID CONFIRM IT!
Colin-"She is a sexy intelligent woman, I was very attracted to her"
This is great news, despite my wobbly thighs and slowly descending boobs COLIN would shag me!
I am off to perfect my diction, intellegent quotes and posh accent.
On another note, it's election day tomorrow and I am bored of the whole scenario already, my daughter has her first ever vote and asked me
Ashley-"Mum can i go into one booth and you go into the other and can i shout 'Mum who am I supposed to be at this polling station, do they know I am a failed Asylum seeker?"
me-"Please dont do that, we will get jailed or something"
Ashley-"Ok can i shout-'Mum why is the Nazi party not on here? and you can shout back-'Thats the Conservative's you cross for Nazi"
me-"Ok can we not do that either, why cant you just use your very first ever vote as a nice thing momentous thing to do, you know I was 18 on an election year as well, in 1979"
Ashley-"If you tell me you voted in Margaret Thatcher I swear I will burn you with an aerosol and lighter, I have perfected my long range burn spray"
me-"I thought I smelt burning in your room, are you actually burning an aerosol with a naked flame?"
Ashley-"Erm...I only did it once"
me-"For fucksake Ashley that is dangerous, when I sit down in my quiet time and consider what would be the most frightening thing to happen to you, I have pregnancy-HIV-Herpes-rape-car crash-heroin addiction all up there in the top fucking ten, I never thought at this age I had to worry about setting fire to your curtains at 19, you can't vote at all you are fucking a pyro maniac with the IQ of a rocking horse"
Ashley-" Calm down scary old woman, stop being a dreary cow I am never doing it again, Jesus you are a nut"
So the Election is upon us.
Back in late 80's I owned a bar and next door to it was spare room we gave to the local Labour Party group to use as a base, they never pais rent but I found out later they charged their own headquarters and kept the cash! ( How unlike the Labour Party!)
Anyway, one night Gordon Brown came in and had a long list of drinks to buy for 'The Troops on the Coalface of Politics' ( all the thieving Labourites next door) he barked out the drinks order and I had it up there on the bar in minutes. I whispered to my barman Wullie
me- "He is the shadow chancellor-he is the guy who controls the country's cash when he gets into power"
We both smiled and watched him with his wee pen counting up the order, I waited till he was finished and said '£34 please.' ( it was £12 over the real price) I watched as he blinked and then simply handed over his cash.
I stood there smiling at Wullie, who stared at me and raised his eyebrows as I had clearly vastly overcharged the man.
Brown said nothing.
Me-"See Wullie that fucker either cant count or cant cope with me overcharging him and cant challenge me and thats why I will never vote Labour"
I said it loud enough for him and the rest of my customers to hear. He simply went red and mumbled as he struggled to get all the drinks on one tray.
me-"Mr Brown dont over load the tray, you may find you have taken on more than you can carry"
That still appears to be true to this day!
Burst bedclothes and the like.
I need a new duvet. I presume with all my thrashing, sweating, nightmare struggling and wild sex (Yeah right!) my old duvet is burst. I know this because each morning I awake there is a floor full of feathers, the place looks like I punched a wee duck to death in the middle of the night.
The hoover refuses to suck them up??? I cannot believe I have to hand pick feathers, for some reason my very good 'sooky' hoover cannot deal with the wee white fluffy duck down and just rolls over and over them in a relentless noisy growl and has to admit defeat as the brushes in the machine only re-arrange them all over the carpet.
I wonder what would happen if I tried to hoover a live duck? Ok good feeling gone! Sorry!
Weather was nice so I decided to wear short linen summer trousers and those nice sandals I never wear lying in the wardrobe...'why do I never wear those sandals?' I thought to myself as I slip slapped my way into town with a warm sunny breeze refreshing my old hairy winter legs ( maybe a shave would have been good?). The sun makes us smile.
Then after 20 minutes my toes bled as the suede straps on my 'Pretty Sandals' became evil devil tools and managed to cut a sharp line across my big toe, so severe it even took those big long hairs that manage to grow 'Hobbit' like on my feet.
I was in agony, blood soaked into my sandals and I hobbled home, well not quite home. I managed to get plasters wrapped around my wound and looked like a freak and managed to go shopping. I bought lots of summer tops because the minute the sun shines, I assume I need tee shirts and feel that I have none in my closet (which must be wrong because I do this every year! Where are they all?).
Husband called and asked me what I was doing.
me-"Nothing much, my toes are falling off and I have just maxed the credit card!"
him-"How the fuck did you max the credit card?!!
me-"Fuck you, cant you ask how my toes are falling off? No it's all about money with you!"
him-"Tell me more about the credit card, trust me when you get home I am going to snip your fingers off, who cares about your toes?"
me-"I am joking about the credit card moany arse, but now I know where your loyalty lies....my feet hurt in these sandals and you dont care"
him-"Did you wear those pink flappy sandals that cut your feet last year?"
me-"How did you know the pink sandals cut my feet?"
him-"You did the same thing with those shoes last Edinburgh Fringe and moaned for a week....see I do listen to you"
me-"Ok thanks, see you later weirdo"
He worries I will max the credit card, but that's silly - I shop in Primark and it would take ten hours to spend £10,0000 in there as everything is so cheap and I cant shop for ten hours when my feet bleed.
Maybe I could do it in trainers though....!
The hoover refuses to suck them up??? I cannot believe I have to hand pick feathers, for some reason my very good 'sooky' hoover cannot deal with the wee white fluffy duck down and just rolls over and over them in a relentless noisy growl and has to admit defeat as the brushes in the machine only re-arrange them all over the carpet.
I wonder what would happen if I tried to hoover a live duck? Ok good feeling gone! Sorry!
Weather was nice so I decided to wear short linen summer trousers and those nice sandals I never wear lying in the wardrobe...'why do I never wear those sandals?' I thought to myself as I slip slapped my way into town with a warm sunny breeze refreshing my old hairy winter legs ( maybe a shave would have been good?). The sun makes us smile.
Then after 20 minutes my toes bled as the suede straps on my 'Pretty Sandals' became evil devil tools and managed to cut a sharp line across my big toe, so severe it even took those big long hairs that manage to grow 'Hobbit' like on my feet.
I was in agony, blood soaked into my sandals and I hobbled home, well not quite home. I managed to get plasters wrapped around my wound and looked like a freak and managed to go shopping. I bought lots of summer tops because the minute the sun shines, I assume I need tee shirts and feel that I have none in my closet (which must be wrong because I do this every year! Where are they all?).
Husband called and asked me what I was doing.
me-"Nothing much, my toes are falling off and I have just maxed the credit card!"
him-"How the fuck did you max the credit card?!!
me-"Fuck you, cant you ask how my toes are falling off? No it's all about money with you!"
him-"Tell me more about the credit card, trust me when you get home I am going to snip your fingers off, who cares about your toes?"
me-"I am joking about the credit card moany arse, but now I know where your loyalty lies....my feet hurt in these sandals and you dont care"
him-"Did you wear those pink flappy sandals that cut your feet last year?"
me-"How did you know the pink sandals cut my feet?"
him-"You did the same thing with those shoes last Edinburgh Fringe and moaned for a week....see I do listen to you"
me-"Ok thanks, see you later weirdo"
He worries I will max the credit card, but that's silly - I shop in Primark and it would take ten hours to spend £10,0000 in there as everything is so cheap and I cant shop for ten hours when my feet bleed.
Maybe I could do it in trainers though....!
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Sir Ian McKellern and nasty gold clowns
Place-Glasgow
Weather-Warm and sunny
I managed to forget it was 3rd May which is my sister's birthday, I thought tomorrow was 3rd ...oh dear.
Sat in the park today after I went and put a cheque into the bank (With wrong date on it of course).
The park was full of lunchtime visitors, enjoying the bright day. A family consisting of three kids and two parents joined me on the grass. They parked the pram, spread out a jacket to sit on and let the baby out to toddle. The father was tall, lanky, with greasy hair, a Rangers football top on, and his tattoo'ed fingers were covered in chunky gold rings. The mother was a small fat blonde girl wearing the biggest gold clown necklace I had ever seen, it looked positively uncomfortable and cumbersome.
The clown dangled and wiggled as she moved, its limbs were on small hinges and acted independently, it looked like a small gold man having an epileptic fit. They had an angry wee Jack Russel dog and every time the mum leaned down to get something from the ground, her clown wiggled and the dog tried to bite it. The dog then started snapping at the two wee boys and the baby.
One blonde boy, the tallest- looked around five years old, the younger blonde boy was around three and the toddler was a wee fat red faced girl, wearing a big pink satin dress that resembled a lamp shade from a brothel. All pink, shiny, with frills and bows. She kicked the dog hard in the white stomach, the dog turned on itself and snarled at her.
The tallest boy ripped open a big family bag of crisps, the bag popped and the crisps went flying out in a big flurry and covered the grass around him in a wee semi-circle.
The clown wearing fat mother, grabbed him from behind and shouted into his wee face "You stupid wee cunt, you will fucking eat them off the grass, ya wee bastard"
The wee boy's face crumpled into a tearful mess, his wee brother ran over and started helping him to pick the crisps up. The dog ran around like a wee fat hoover and was gobbling up the crisps between the kids wee chubby fingers trying to rescue the food.
The woman just kept shouting at the poor wee kids, I watched her as she lit up a ciggie and opened a can of beer. I wanted to ram her fat face into the grass. The kids sat at the side and ate the crisps, they shared some juice and played with the angry dog, who seemed to be ok with them now it had stopped growling and barking.
The dad uncrossed his legs and stood up to his full height, he lifted up the toddler and much to her protest, he brought her near to the wife and they started to change her nappy. The dirty nappy was rolled into a ball and thrown onto the grass beside them, the smell was awful and the dog went over for a sniff and then.....a lick..!!!
The older boy picked it up and took it over to the bin and threw it in.
I watched the family and wondered how people could be that rude and nasty to their own children.
I left the park feeling a bit sad, I then got a call to remind me that the Julian Clary press launch/dinner event is at 6.30pm, I had to make it home quick to tame the angry hair and look nice for the press and people from Ebury.
Am watching Sir Ian McKellern on Paul O'Grady show and he is so relaxed and funny. I remember the night I met him..by mistake..as always.
It was in London in June 2003, I was at Monica's, just having washed all my underwear and packed it into a plastic bag, I dragged up my hair into a greasy pony tail, as I had just been rehearsing my play Point of Yes. I was smelly and knackered.
I got a call from the Sikh Scottish writer Hardeep, he is a real funny dude, he wears a big blue tartan turban! Anyway he calls me and asks me to meet him within the hour. I agreed, and went down to Piccadilly to catch up with him.
We walked along Shaftsbury Avenue, he chatted and I carried my underwear in my Sainsbury plastic bag. We came to this big door, he pressed a buzzer, we walk upstairs, we sit down on these big leather sofa's, I take off my jacket, order tea, put down my underwear bag, breathe out and look up and sitting at our big table on the other side of the sofa was Matthew Perry from Friends, Minnie Driver and Sir Ian McKellern!
I wanted to die. No make-up, plastic bag full of off-white cheap underwear and a greasy pony tail. Nice!
Sir Ian smiled and I quickly spoke "I am sorry I have just came from rehearsals, I have my laundry bag and look a mess and you all look so lovely"
He just smiled again and said "Darling we are all gypsies, that's what actors are, it's what separates us from them, you look lovely"
What a nice man to put me at ease. Although -No matter how many times I tried to be at ease my mind kept saying"Chandler from Friends is sitting there using my lighter and smoking my fags!" ( yes he did, I have gave my ciggies to the most famous of people over the years including Jude Law, Ewan McGregor and Jonny Lee Miller, it seems they all never buy them as they keep saying they have stopped-great scam!)
I now carry make up and lipstick and a hairbrush and new hair clip in my bag at all times.....just incase!
Weather-Warm and sunny
I managed to forget it was 3rd May which is my sister's birthday, I thought tomorrow was 3rd ...oh dear.
Sat in the park today after I went and put a cheque into the bank (With wrong date on it of course).
The park was full of lunchtime visitors, enjoying the bright day. A family consisting of three kids and two parents joined me on the grass. They parked the pram, spread out a jacket to sit on and let the baby out to toddle. The father was tall, lanky, with greasy hair, a Rangers football top on, and his tattoo'ed fingers were covered in chunky gold rings. The mother was a small fat blonde girl wearing the biggest gold clown necklace I had ever seen, it looked positively uncomfortable and cumbersome.
The clown dangled and wiggled as she moved, its limbs were on small hinges and acted independently, it looked like a small gold man having an epileptic fit. They had an angry wee Jack Russel dog and every time the mum leaned down to get something from the ground, her clown wiggled and the dog tried to bite it. The dog then started snapping at the two wee boys and the baby.
One blonde boy, the tallest- looked around five years old, the younger blonde boy was around three and the toddler was a wee fat red faced girl, wearing a big pink satin dress that resembled a lamp shade from a brothel. All pink, shiny, with frills and bows. She kicked the dog hard in the white stomach, the dog turned on itself and snarled at her.
The tallest boy ripped open a big family bag of crisps, the bag popped and the crisps went flying out in a big flurry and covered the grass around him in a wee semi-circle.
The clown wearing fat mother, grabbed him from behind and shouted into his wee face "You stupid wee cunt, you will fucking eat them off the grass, ya wee bastard"
The wee boy's face crumpled into a tearful mess, his wee brother ran over and started helping him to pick the crisps up. The dog ran around like a wee fat hoover and was gobbling up the crisps between the kids wee chubby fingers trying to rescue the food.
The woman just kept shouting at the poor wee kids, I watched her as she lit up a ciggie and opened a can of beer. I wanted to ram her fat face into the grass. The kids sat at the side and ate the crisps, they shared some juice and played with the angry dog, who seemed to be ok with them now it had stopped growling and barking.
The dad uncrossed his legs and stood up to his full height, he lifted up the toddler and much to her protest, he brought her near to the wife and they started to change her nappy. The dirty nappy was rolled into a ball and thrown onto the grass beside them, the smell was awful and the dog went over for a sniff and then.....a lick..!!!
The older boy picked it up and took it over to the bin and threw it in.
I watched the family and wondered how people could be that rude and nasty to their own children.
I left the park feeling a bit sad, I then got a call to remind me that the Julian Clary press launch/dinner event is at 6.30pm, I had to make it home quick to tame the angry hair and look nice for the press and people from Ebury.
Am watching Sir Ian McKellern on Paul O'Grady show and he is so relaxed and funny. I remember the night I met him..by mistake..as always.
It was in London in June 2003, I was at Monica's, just having washed all my underwear and packed it into a plastic bag, I dragged up my hair into a greasy pony tail, as I had just been rehearsing my play Point of Yes. I was smelly and knackered.
I got a call from the Sikh Scottish writer Hardeep, he is a real funny dude, he wears a big blue tartan turban! Anyway he calls me and asks me to meet him within the hour. I agreed, and went down to Piccadilly to catch up with him.
We walked along Shaftsbury Avenue, he chatted and I carried my underwear in my Sainsbury plastic bag. We came to this big door, he pressed a buzzer, we walk upstairs, we sit down on these big leather sofa's, I take off my jacket, order tea, put down my underwear bag, breathe out and look up and sitting at our big table on the other side of the sofa was Matthew Perry from Friends, Minnie Driver and Sir Ian McKellern!
I wanted to die. No make-up, plastic bag full of off-white cheap underwear and a greasy pony tail. Nice!
Sir Ian smiled and I quickly spoke "I am sorry I have just came from rehearsals, I have my laundry bag and look a mess and you all look so lovely"
He just smiled again and said "Darling we are all gypsies, that's what actors are, it's what separates us from them, you look lovely"
What a nice man to put me at ease. Although -No matter how many times I tried to be at ease my mind kept saying"Chandler from Friends is sitting there using my lighter and smoking my fags!" ( yes he did, I have gave my ciggies to the most famous of people over the years including Jude Law, Ewan McGregor and Jonny Lee Miller, it seems they all never buy them as they keep saying they have stopped-great scam!)
I now carry make up and lipstick and a hairbrush and new hair clip in my bag at all times.....just incase!
Monday, May 02, 2005
Girl Heaven
Does anyone here ever recall being worried about their skin or bodyshape at age 10? Not me, I was wearing cheap nylon trousers, a nasty tee shirt and uncombed curly hair. I never thought once to check my skin for oily or dry patches.
Gleneagles Spa in Scotland does ‘Spa days’ for girls from aged five upwards. Last year it gave more than 250 manicures and makeovers to children from five to 16.
When I was a child, a ‘Makeover’ was when the nit nurse covered your scalp in Esoderme to fumigate my bugs; she also applied liberal amounts of Genitian Violet (A bright vivid purple solution used to kill bacteria) all over my cold sores.
I had shiny chemically treated stinky hair and a purple mouth. I stood out from the crowd and my makeover was complete.
I find it weird that mothers are encouraging young girls to treat and de-stress their under matured skin! A manicure for a young girl maybe considered ok, as it will teach them to look after their nails, but not for any girl under fourteen surely!
There is a shop in Glasgow called ‘Girl Heaven’, I passed the front of the shop last weekend and there was a small crowd outside. Mother’s and father’s were applauding as small girls as young as six, were fully made up with lipstick, dressed in short bikini tops and skirts as they danced in tune to “Bootylicious”.
The small hips rocked, their skinny arms flailing, lips pouting as they spun run to the crowd, aided by the ‘Girl Heaven’ staff who had coached them after applying the make-up as part of their weekend ‘Girly’ promotion.
Am I wrong to be horrified?
There were other people watching this display, men and women who passed by had stopped and took in the show. Were they paedophiles? Were they innocent people watching innocent girls dancing to sexy music? I have no idea, but I did feel very uncomfortable watching this display.
I wish we could embrace childhood, accept that wee girls and boys are happy to be dirty and badly dressed. They don’t need eyeliner or hair gel, they are happy to be togged out in jeans and wellies.
You just have to look at Brooklyn Beckham to see how ridiculous a child appears when dressed in a three piece suit and a cravat!
What small boy needs tweeds and a smoking jacket?
What little girl needs to know how to make her lips look fuller?
Gleneagles Spa in Scotland does ‘Spa days’ for girls from aged five upwards. Last year it gave more than 250 manicures and makeovers to children from five to 16.
When I was a child, a ‘Makeover’ was when the nit nurse covered your scalp in Esoderme to fumigate my bugs; she also applied liberal amounts of Genitian Violet (A bright vivid purple solution used to kill bacteria) all over my cold sores.
I had shiny chemically treated stinky hair and a purple mouth. I stood out from the crowd and my makeover was complete.
I find it weird that mothers are encouraging young girls to treat and de-stress their under matured skin! A manicure for a young girl maybe considered ok, as it will teach them to look after their nails, but not for any girl under fourteen surely!
There is a shop in Glasgow called ‘Girl Heaven’, I passed the front of the shop last weekend and there was a small crowd outside. Mother’s and father’s were applauding as small girls as young as six, were fully made up with lipstick, dressed in short bikini tops and skirts as they danced in tune to “Bootylicious”.
The small hips rocked, their skinny arms flailing, lips pouting as they spun run to the crowd, aided by the ‘Girl Heaven’ staff who had coached them after applying the make-up as part of their weekend ‘Girly’ promotion.
Am I wrong to be horrified?
There were other people watching this display, men and women who passed by had stopped and took in the show. Were they paedophiles? Were they innocent people watching innocent girls dancing to sexy music? I have no idea, but I did feel very uncomfortable watching this display.
I wish we could embrace childhood, accept that wee girls and boys are happy to be dirty and badly dressed. They don’t need eyeliner or hair gel, they are happy to be togged out in jeans and wellies.
You just have to look at Brooklyn Beckham to see how ridiculous a child appears when dressed in a three piece suit and a cravat!
What small boy needs tweeds and a smoking jacket?
What little girl needs to know how to make her lips look fuller?
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Old TV
Am watching on C4 the 'Most Watched television' and I was enjoying the memories of the old Seventies shows.
We never had a video recording machine back then, so if you missed an episode of your favourite show...that was it, you never got to see it again until they showed it two years later as a repeat.
I remember my mum being obssesed by the old 1970's show 'Poldark'. It was about this swarthy, tall sexy hunk who lived in eighteenth century Cornwall. He was a kind of Robin Hood Pirate that helped the smugglers and stuff. He wore the tight breeches and had long hair and was always dirty looking...the women loved him, he was the Brad Pitt of UK tv!
Anway she loved the whole show and had watched the entire series. The highlight of her week was Friday night, she got her pack of ciggies ready, the light out, the TV on full blast, grand-children were banned, dog was let out for a piss, her mug full of tea at the ready and her broken spectacles taped up and stuck on her face.
This all went well until the very last episode.
My dad and her had been separated for a few years and although they lived in different houses, they always ended up getting back together every other weekend. When dad was drunk his homing devices dragged him back to our house.
On this particular week, he had asked her to go to his 'Christmas Work's Dance'. Mum was stricken, because despite her absolute glee at being back with dad again and at one of his social functions, she would have to miss the last episode of Poldark. She had to go with my dad but was distraught at missing her sex God on TV.
I came up with a solution.
I had a hand held tape machine that had a new blank tape, I would sit beside the televsion and tape the whole show and in the silent bits that showed drama but no dialogue, I would talk into the tape and tell her what was going on.
It was all going to plan, I was sat at the TV with the tape in my hand perched on my knee right at the speaker on the side of my television box. I was getting all the dialogue and was explaining the plot and saying things like-'Poldark has just walked into the room and has opened a trunk'
I was right into the last five minutes when our dog Major 2 ( Major 1 had died two years before, and this was our latest scabby/mental Alsatian stray) ran in barking loud...he had our semi-feral flea carrying cat wrapped around the front of his snout, like the Alien thing out of the movies.
The cat's two back legs were fast cycling with its ripping nails into the dog's throat as it's front claws were secured into the back of dogs head. The big dog's barks were muffled as the cat was almost suffocating it!
The table got knocked over, cups were smashed on the lino, tea spread all over the floor, I dropped the tape machine, the dog managed to bite the cat's back, the cat squealed and hissed and managed to spring back and launch itself onto my leg with all claws flying as the dog jumped on and flatten me.
I missed the end of Poldark and my mum would go mental. I was so scared to tell her.
When she got home she got me up next morning at 9am to hear the show.
Mum-"Janey, wake up, a need to hear ma' Poldark hen, go an' get me the tape, I huv made the tea'
I sat there and had to think quickly. What I did was, I went through the whole tape explaining the show and the plot ( remember this is the last episode with a big cliff hanger) as I just heard the first noise of the dog barking, I turned the tape off quickly and explained that there was no more 'talking bits' and I made up a story about how that whole series ended. I said that Poldark's wife had died and he went away to America on a boat and gave up his house to the villagers.
My mum was heartbroken that Anaghard Reese (She played Demelza, the very low classed urchin who married Poldark- he was way above her station, but to every woman's delight he treated her well).
I overdone the story, I elaborated on her slow painful death, the tears and the horror and grief as his ship set sail for the Americas.
My mum cried her eyes out and spent the whole day upset at Poldark's sad life....until my Aunt Rita came round and chatted about the show, telling my mum the real story about how Poldark had managed to secure the workers full pay and how he and Demelza were so in love and were trying for a baby.
She almost killed me with a shoe, I ran down all our stairs with a smelly tufty haired Alsatian, and evil slinky white/grey cat at my back hissing at the big dog as we ran into the street to get away from my crazed mother and her shoe.
She wore those hard Scholl sandals that she could slip from her feet and skelp you with in under three seconds, they really were tools of the devil. I think Dr Scholl knew they were anti-child weapons and made them in their millions. My mum could throw a Scholl sandal and it would duck round corners like something out of the Matrix and manage to catch the back of you head. If Scholl throwing had been an Olympic sport, she would have won a Gold.
I miss her, the scabby dog and the angry evil cat, I am hoping that she would have liked how I wrote my book.
We never had a video recording machine back then, so if you missed an episode of your favourite show...that was it, you never got to see it again until they showed it two years later as a repeat.
I remember my mum being obssesed by the old 1970's show 'Poldark'. It was about this swarthy, tall sexy hunk who lived in eighteenth century Cornwall. He was a kind of Robin Hood Pirate that helped the smugglers and stuff. He wore the tight breeches and had long hair and was always dirty looking...the women loved him, he was the Brad Pitt of UK tv!
Anway she loved the whole show and had watched the entire series. The highlight of her week was Friday night, she got her pack of ciggies ready, the light out, the TV on full blast, grand-children were banned, dog was let out for a piss, her mug full of tea at the ready and her broken spectacles taped up and stuck on her face.
This all went well until the very last episode.
My dad and her had been separated for a few years and although they lived in different houses, they always ended up getting back together every other weekend. When dad was drunk his homing devices dragged him back to our house.
On this particular week, he had asked her to go to his 'Christmas Work's Dance'. Mum was stricken, because despite her absolute glee at being back with dad again and at one of his social functions, she would have to miss the last episode of Poldark. She had to go with my dad but was distraught at missing her sex God on TV.
I came up with a solution.
I had a hand held tape machine that had a new blank tape, I would sit beside the televsion and tape the whole show and in the silent bits that showed drama but no dialogue, I would talk into the tape and tell her what was going on.
It was all going to plan, I was sat at the TV with the tape in my hand perched on my knee right at the speaker on the side of my television box. I was getting all the dialogue and was explaining the plot and saying things like-'Poldark has just walked into the room and has opened a trunk'
I was right into the last five minutes when our dog Major 2 ( Major 1 had died two years before, and this was our latest scabby/mental Alsatian stray) ran in barking loud...he had our semi-feral flea carrying cat wrapped around the front of his snout, like the Alien thing out of the movies.
The cat's two back legs were fast cycling with its ripping nails into the dog's throat as it's front claws were secured into the back of dogs head. The big dog's barks were muffled as the cat was almost suffocating it!
The table got knocked over, cups were smashed on the lino, tea spread all over the floor, I dropped the tape machine, the dog managed to bite the cat's back, the cat squealed and hissed and managed to spring back and launch itself onto my leg with all claws flying as the dog jumped on and flatten me.
I missed the end of Poldark and my mum would go mental. I was so scared to tell her.
When she got home she got me up next morning at 9am to hear the show.
Mum-"Janey, wake up, a need to hear ma' Poldark hen, go an' get me the tape, I huv made the tea'
I sat there and had to think quickly. What I did was, I went through the whole tape explaining the show and the plot ( remember this is the last episode with a big cliff hanger) as I just heard the first noise of the dog barking, I turned the tape off quickly and explained that there was no more 'talking bits' and I made up a story about how that whole series ended. I said that Poldark's wife had died and he went away to America on a boat and gave up his house to the villagers.
My mum was heartbroken that Anaghard Reese (She played Demelza, the very low classed urchin who married Poldark- he was way above her station, but to every woman's delight he treated her well).
I overdone the story, I elaborated on her slow painful death, the tears and the horror and grief as his ship set sail for the Americas.
My mum cried her eyes out and spent the whole day upset at Poldark's sad life....until my Aunt Rita came round and chatted about the show, telling my mum the real story about how Poldark had managed to secure the workers full pay and how he and Demelza were so in love and were trying for a baby.
She almost killed me with a shoe, I ran down all our stairs with a smelly tufty haired Alsatian, and evil slinky white/grey cat at my back hissing at the big dog as we ran into the street to get away from my crazed mother and her shoe.
She wore those hard Scholl sandals that she could slip from her feet and skelp you with in under three seconds, they really were tools of the devil. I think Dr Scholl knew they were anti-child weapons and made them in their millions. My mum could throw a Scholl sandal and it would duck round corners like something out of the Matrix and manage to catch the back of you head. If Scholl throwing had been an Olympic sport, she would have won a Gold.
I miss her, the scabby dog and the angry evil cat, I am hoping that she would have liked how I wrote my book.
being pregnant to God
There cant be anything more scarier than having a big sleep that involves a scary dream involving my daughter. I dreamt that Ashley was pregnant and was going to university with a wee baby and she was very proud of that. I was stricken, in the dream I begged her not to have the baby and go get an abortion...I woke up with a start and ran into the living room, all dazed and worried. It was only 6.30pm, I had been having a nap after we drove back from Manchester.
Ashley was sitting at the computer.
me-" I dreamt you were pregnant!" I screamed!
Ashley-"Thats funny, I did too, the other night"
me (even more concerned now)-" Could you be pregnant?"
Ashley-"Yes, to GOD! I may be actually carrying the next Messiah"
me-"Abort it quickly it will only bring you trouble"
That would be just my luck, to be the granny to the next God, we could call him God Godley, that would be fun.
Ashley was sitting at the computer.
me-" I dreamt you were pregnant!" I screamed!
Ashley-"Thats funny, I did too, the other night"
me (even more concerned now)-" Could you be pregnant?"
Ashley-"Yes, to GOD! I may be actually carrying the next Messiah"
me-"Abort it quickly it will only bring you trouble"
That would be just my luck, to be the granny to the next God, we could call him God Godley, that would be fun.
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