Tits out in the Woods!

So I woke up and husband says “Why don’t we go for a long walk in the woods?” I thought to myself ‘Yes so you can kill me and bury deep, deep in the undergrowth since I have been nothing but a bitch since stopping smoking ‘
“It will be lovely and then we can go for lunch” He added.

So there we were, half way up the 5 mile hike at Arrochar. It’s called the Cats Coil walk, the hills were killers to my sore knee and immediately I realised this climb was a mistake.
My legs ached and we had only started! The sun came out and started burning us both and I was wearing heavy jeans.
I improvised, I took off my jeans and bared my fat ass to the rock face as I tied my ‘Hoodie’ around my waist and zipped it up then wrapped it again to look like a short skirt, at least it was cooler and I now have an idea to give the government about ‘How to use a Hoodie in different ways to suit your climate’ as they are banning Hoodie wearers from town centre’s. All those nasty kids can tie them around their waists!

As we started to wilt in the heat, I decided to take off my top and walk in my bra. There was no one near us and deep deep in the woods we were unlikely to stumble on a Church group.
There I was marching in my lovely black ( so love that colour) bra, then I decided to go one step further and take off my bra and walk in my short tied up skirt and just go TOPLESS!

It was EXHILERATING!! I am not an exhibitionist that way although I would set fire to my leg at a bus stop to get attention….but not naked!
My breasts felt so cool and walking was an amazing sensation doing it naked! Husband just smiled and said “Don’t worry if anyone comes in sight I will let you know”

I replied “I can see- you know, just because I have no top on does not mean I have suddenly went blind”

We both laughed and he told me I had nice boobs.
“Thanks, the rabbits and small furry animals think so as well” I added.
I felt the show was now over and time to cover up.
I pulled on my top and decided to walk faster to help build up muscle and strength in my sore knee (injury from years ago).

In the middle of the peaceful woods overlooking Loch Long I took a phone call from BBC to discuss a show I am on tonight. They want me to talk about child abuse (I am a survivor) and I kinda felt that my chat about abuse sullied the beauty of the place….my naked tits didn’t though!

It was a good day and I even managed not to shout and snap at husband.
He did suggest I take a picture of me topless in the woods for the blog, but I think that will take the whole thing into a territory that will be scary and slightly psycho sexual!

Tune into tonight Sunday BBC radio 5 live at 10pm if you wanna catch the show.

Black dog

I have stopped smoking again…I know what you are saying…when did you start again? Well I started smoking again since June when I was doing the play.
Husband was bitterly disappointed with me and I cannot even begin to tell you how bad I felt when talking to my father.
Never mind, I am OFF the fags again…in time for the Fringe!

I had fun yesterday when my mate Jay Gaban (an old pal) took me to visit an elderly couple who knew my mammy when she was younger and they knew the man who was her boyfriend and eventual murderer.
The couple Bill and Betsy had a big black dog called ‘darkie’ ( I kid you not) and the only way I could get into a conversation with them without the big dog BARKING loudly was to pat it’s old fat ass…It was getting all odd and horny but I had to keep patting it’s hind quarters as it groaned and moaned in ‘doggy horny’ language, the minute I stopped ‘courting it and patting it’s ass’ the dog barked over the man’s very interesting conversation.
Bill knew Peter Greenshields (my mother’s murderer and boyfriend) very well and told me that Greenshields had actually admitted to killing another woman called ‘Manchester Mary’ in Glasgow back in 1950’s. This intrigued me and if there is anyone out there who knows anything about this let me know?
So I had a sore hand stroking an old dog but got loads of perspective on the man who killed my mum and that was worth it.

I am tired again for no real reason and this is worrying me. I seem to be tired during the day and ratty to everyone…maybe that’s just me being a woman in her 40’s?

Who knows?

Old Photo's make me smile

Went to see my old pal today and she pulled out loads of old pics. I was in one and I laughed my ass off totally...I was dressed in a long grey tweed looking skirt, a pale nylon blouse with a big tie bow at the neck and long sleeveless woollen cardigan that tied in the middle! My legs were dark brown, due to my tights and the shoes were the type favoured by angry headmistresses or female PE teachers.

I looked like I was 54 years of age!

Wot the fuck was I thinking of when I dressed like Mrs Timpkins from Tippendale tea rooms?

I had no idea how old I looked when I was so young, I was 20 years of age in the picture, I must have thought that was either business-like or strangely sexy?

Thank God I am not as mentally dressed today, though I do still have problems trying to dress like a 44 year old. When I did that mental TV show 'Kings Of Comedy' on C4, one of the most frequent comments I got was that I dressed really shabbily, or that I wore no make up. It was a kind of Big Brother type show where we were watched 24 hours a day.

I saw no reason to 'dress up' and that's my problem, I don’t think people judge me as how I dress but of course THEY DO! So I now need to start looking a bit better and therefore I have spoken to Fashion Guru Kelly Cooper-Barr, she dresses the likes of Kylie and Gwyneth.

Kelly is going to have a good fashion chat with me soon. Hopefully i will dress more like my age and less like a teenage angry lesbian/crazy cat collecting bush woman.

Posters and Edinburgh

Well Ashley (my daughter) went through to Edinburgh to put up 'Janey Godley is Innocent' (name of my show) posters. They are just plain A4 sheets with black writing on...no explanation, just the words!

It's a teaser campaign that she is working on. My real posters and flyers are being delivered to the Underbelly this week. She had a chat with some journalists and had an look at the venue and checked my books had arrived from Random and are safely put away until the show opens on 4th August at Underbelly.

She was giving out small flyers with 'Janey Godley is Innocent' written on them, she was standing outside the Scottish Parliament building ...then thought better of it as she had on a backpack and has a fake tan and was scared she would be shot!!

I meanwhile sat at home and found 35 things to argue with my husband about, there seems to be a glut of stuff from our past that still has some mileage in it and so I picked a fight that harked back to an incident in 1987...it was very interesting as I never won the argument back in the 80's but I did today.

Tomorrow we will be fighting about 1979, Blondie were number one, Thatcher had just come to power and UK had bin strikes...see how good my memory is?

I did TV show with BBC Scotland and it was great fun, it will be broadcast later on in the year. I have been taking bookings for other shows I will be doing during Fringe, like the late night ghost story show at the Pleasance and the Funny Women show and a few others including Equity workshops.

I am excited about the Fringe and I have good pre-sales tickets to look forward to!
Hope some of the bloggers will come along, maybe we can have a special BLOG NIGHT?

Sex noises at 3am NOT ME!

Finally after getting to sleep and trying to mentally rake through my brain to make sure NO nightmarish ideas have been lodged ....I lie there and get disturbed by loud

"Aaah, aaah YES YES!" coming from my car park.

My bed is directly beneath my window and my window is open. I start to think maybe someone is being beaten in the back yard or maybe some evil seagull is doing a late night Aria? Then it slowly dawns on me it's someone or some people having sex...are they in the car park? Tucked behind my new car?

I lean up and stare out of my window...half hoping NOT to catch them but strangely seeking where they can be. My back yard/car park is built on a 'Coliseum' type set up, a huge circle of flats that are tall and the entire estate make a complete O, so any noise is immediately thrown up and echoed round the area.

There is no one there, then I see a bedroom window flung wide open, therefore the noise coming from that flat will bounce and the acoustics will carry it loudly round the houses! I am now secretly worried that....

a) I don’t make too much noise

b) My window has been open in the past

c) Why are they STILL having sex after half an hour?

Anyway I make a mental note to shut my mouth and my window in ALL bedroom activities...still the noise continues...it sounds like some fucker is beating a gull to death OR some dude has PORN up very loud at his window?

The past noise from my bedroom would probably only be ME shouting, arguing and getting on everyone's nerves.

Me-"Turn that fucking radio off"

Me-"Give me the fucking duvet ya fuckwit"

Me-"Stop snoring or I will hit your eye with a toffee hammer"

That's all you would actually hear from me. Talking about snoring, I read in an old magazine that OLD people read (it was in the doctors surgery) it said a good cure for snoring is to sew a solid WOODEN COTTON REEL into your husband's pyjama's and he would never lie on his back again...

NO because that would twist his spine and give him a fucking stroke...OLD people are cruel...a COTTON REEL???..sewed into your JIM JAMS??? wot is wrong with elbowing him in the ribs?

I am off to eat dinner, no more eating straight from the pot, no more eating half naked at the TV table. Husband is home, I must go dress in taffeta, white gloves, and a full underskirt as I sip Sherry and set the table with a linen table cloth and polished cutlery...I hate being posh.

BT are bastards

My landline is not yet connected to broad band in fact it's fucking broke...yes I called BT (Welcome back to BT their slogan says-fuck off-I say) they tell me through a talking robot that there is a fault on the line but if I want to go online to email them I can!

Yes if MY FUCKING PHONE WORKED!

I sat there screaming at my phone and get told by TXT that an engineer will call at my home Wednesday.

Nine minutes later BT were at my buzzer (was it BT? I ask my paranoid self? How quick was that? Was it the M15 after all my fights at Millbank and very public humiliation of the government in my set and the countless times I shout Al'Q'eda on the phone...suddnely felt like Mel Gibson in conspiracy theory)

So BT man comes up to my home and starts ripped phones and line apart.

me-"Are you M15 and here to bug my home?"

BTman-"No I am here to fix your phone, you have watched too many movies"

me-"Ok whatever, please get my phoneline to work then"

Of course he couldnt as there is a problem with 'software' back at the BT head quarters or some shit like that.

So I am internet less again and now phoneless.

Bastards...I am off to buy two cans and some string.

Will talk tomorrow, if I dont then send a search party for me, I have a bit of a tan and run in tube stations often, whilst acting weird. I may get shot in the head, although I am still too white to be a threat, thank fuck for factor 25 suntan cream...it saved my life.

Cool City!

I do love Glasgow! My husband and daughter are in Amsterdam for five days (she is having a pre-University holiday with her dad) and it's great being at home alone...I never get to do this- normally i am alone elsewhere in the world...but i now lie on my huge sofa, eat ice cream at midnight, watch MY televison (not interrupted by HIS constant channel flicking), I get to eat my kind of food.

Get this -I made cheesy pasta and added chicken breast to it, and mushrooms...CHEESE and CHICKEN...I ate it out of a POT...no table cloth and polished cutlery for me..I ate at the small table (Husband will kill me for this) with a big pot on the surface and chomped into my strange meal. It was great, and I read a full book in one sitting!

I sleep until 3pm and walk about half naked eating ice cream!

Today i will need to clean the whole house and get washing hung up, clean pots and discard ice cream cartons.

Went up to my local pub yesterday 'Oran Mor' and was surprised to see the famous David Walliams from Little Britain and Gweynth Paltrow, Fran healy from Travis...then realised that Simon Pegg was having his wedding there, his lovely wife is Scottish and they had the full bagpipe and tartan affair!

Nice..

Went straight to my gig at Blackfriars and as usual the mic broke..the audience were lovely though and it was a good night. I tried out some of my new stuff for the fringe and it all went well.

Husband is back today and I am off to do some spring cleaning.

The UK is still reeling at the fact the poor bloke they shot five times in the head is innocent but was acting weird...

Fucksake if acting weird is a shootable offence then everyone I know will be dead by next week.

If that is the 'Intelligence' of our Intelligence people then hopefully they will recruit my crazy brother MIJ, he has more intelligence than our authorities and he talks to worms.

RIP poor Brazilian boy...thoughts are with your family.

Tantrums and terrorists

Been a long day, am tired and worn out trying to get my PC to work at least faster than it wants to. I am still off broadband as BT takes 10 days to come on….fucking shit.
Spent today with baby Abi who made me laugh so much. She is only two and is not really allowed chocolate, I had a box of chocolate sticks and her eyes lit up when she saw them.
Normally if you ask her to talk on the phone to friends who call, she looks at you like you are mental and simply says NO and strops away.
Monica called and I was holding the box of choccy sticks and I said to the baby “Say hello to Monica”
Her wee chubby fist grabbed the phone.

Abi-“Hello Monica”

I then said “Tell her we went a walk”

Abi eyed the choccies greedy and spoke quickly in her ‘happy baby voice’ “I went to park with Aunty Janey”

I then said “sing a song to Monica.”

Abi-“We all live in a Yellow Submarine, can I get chocolate NOW peese?” She was getting anxious and wanted her reward! I laughed my ass off.

Abi got fractious later on that day as the weather got really hot and she got tired and grumpy, I think we should still as adults be allowed a tantrum, who knows why we are slapped out of that stage. Imagine if we could have tantrums? The world would be easier, imagine if when we are at the airport and we got told there was a two hour delay, we could simply throw our brief case on the concourse and stamp our feet and scream for an hour till we exhausted ourselves!
There would be less rape/child abuse/assaults etc…if we were simply allowed to scream and kick furniture…well I think that anyway.
Meanwhile back in the real world….

Monica lives in London and she told me that today was like a scene out of ‘Day of The Jackal’ in London with all the security running around and police with guns…

I worry about her and all my friends who live there, but we must all carry on as normal.

Or we can simply introduce-‘tantrums for terrorists’..
Instead of bombing us they get to stamp on our toes and scream into our faces. We then hug them and tell them that despite their attitude we still love them and then maybe later after a timeout they can have a hug or maybe if they are really good we let them feed the hamster? Who knows?

It may be better than holding some dude down in a strangle head lock and shooting him five times ???

I am off to kick the fridge and hope I get attention.

colourblind politics

I am so exhausted with bad dreams…when does this stop?

Get this…I dreamt I was in Hell last night, a really scary dark eerie place, if felt so frightening and to make it worse I was convinced I was Dame Judy Dench! Fucking hell even my nightmares have to be theatrical!!
I have no idea what goes on in my head. Life is ok just now, though due to the extremely large amount of electricity I carry in my body, I have blown two lights, an iron and the fucking hoover in one day and to top it all I have crashed the PC twice. I am sure the coverplan people think I am possessed by the devil.
I called coverplan (the PC warranty people) and the wee lovely Asian man on the line told me to tip up my ‘tower’ that sits on the floor that holds my hard drive and to pull all the plugs out of the back.
So whilst on the phone I do this…there is a mild sense of alarm creeping over me as I realise I will be fucked trying to remember where to put them all back in.
No worries Ahmed tells me on the line, it’s all colour co-ordinated.
“Really” I laugh “That’s a fucker coz I am colour blind” I add.
I am colour blind, this is true.
Trying to put all those fucked up wires back in was a nightmare.
“Pink” he shouts at me “Pink goes into pink hole”
“I can’t tell the difference…I am not sure if this is pink or purple” I scream at him.
I go off to get a pink top that I wear in my photo shots as I know that is pink and I have to drag it up to the PC tower and hold the wire beside it to remind my brain what pink is.
“What are you doing?” He sounds concerned.
“I am holding my pink jumper against the wire to see if it is pink” I add sarcastically “Coz I don’t know if that is PINK”
We spend an hour trying to put the plugs back…there is fucking light purpley coloured ones..greeny yellow looking ones and a variety of ‘dark’ ones…I am so fucked you have no idea.
Eventually I get them all in and my works. At last.
I am also having hair problems, those who know me will recall my never ending fight with my ‘badger-trap’ hair. I have thick coarse dark/grey (when it feels like it) bushy lets-go-anywhere-we-want-to hair and it drives me mad. I am now growing out my fringe and have to clip it up with a clasp and I truly now look like a mental patient, this will last for about three weeks until my fringe grows long enough to hang down the side of my face.
Husband laughed last night when he say the clip in my hair and then was slightly alarmed when I refused to take it out when we went over to the local for a beer.
“You should take that mad clip out of your head” He said as I walked downstairs.
“Then my hair covers my eyes and I wont see anything and then get hit by a car crossing the road” I sniggered.
He looked at me oddly and accepted he now has a wife with a big clip in her head.
Life is strange, watched the news today as more ‘devices’ blew up in London, who knows where it will all end?
One thing I know for sure, this country is at war and a war that the majority did not want to happen.
I hate Tony Blair and stand by my constant decision to never elect him….yet the country did ….AGAIN!
I off to blow a light bulb in the toilet.

Sex and baked goods

I do seriously wonder if about men. Is it every time they have sex and sperm leaves their body; do they need to immediately fill that gap with baked goods?

I am not joking here, husband leapt out of our bed at 4am… (It was a late night session…when does he slow down? I am getting very old…to old for all this late night exercise) and ran to the kitchen to eat ham toasties. Oh God. I hope my step mum is NOT reading this…she will really stab me with a knitting needle for discussing sex again. Maybe she has a point.

I love his ham toasties, but then I soon fell asleep into the Village of the Damned dream. I was right grumpy cow this morning, having dealt with burnt bodies, dead babies and blood all night in my nightmares -what do you expect?

I need to get my intelligent head on, I have so much to organise this week.
I am being filmed on BBC next week, I need to organise books to be sold at Underbelly venue throughout Fringe, need to finalise details for flat in Edinburgh, get posters and flyers printed, all monies owed to me brought in and fuck knows what else to be honest….my brain is dead.

Got told I had upset some members of my in law’s family and other people mentioned in the book, makes me feel odd and truly upset as I know the book was very intrusive of people’s lives, but I had to tell the truth as I saw it. So I am sorry to those who read this and then tell others what it said. It’s like apologising by proxy!

I know that ‘Someone connected to my husbands family ’ reads this BLOG and then tells ‘someone’ and they tell ‘someone’ else and the family (my husbands’ family) then get told…I mean fuck sake guys just get the net and stop the Chinese whispers, read the book and the BLOG first hand, that’s how rumours start!

So there we have it, maybe I should have written my book from all of their perspectives….can you imagine? Seven versions of one story? That would be like the Bible! Even it has discrepancies in it!

Life goes on and I am sure I do believe in what goes around comes around…

I went shopping with Ashley today as she needed three skirts.

We actually bought
4 skirts
3 pairs of trousers
4 tops
1 jacket
2 pairs of socks

My Visa bill will be hard to face…..oh have you had that fake email from PAYPAL? I did….
It explains how you paid £1,400 for two maxi Vibrators and it will be charged to your PAYPAL account. Well I quickly called VISA and they told me straight off it was a hoax…Shit, I really was looking forward to getting my Double Delight Maxi petrol powered turbo vibrator…at least it doesn’t need baked goods after a session. (Sorry Mum)

The Birds.

So I finally get to the airport and Heathrow is heaving with holiday makers. I HATE that! I am a moany cow and a half at times.
Anyway I do automatic check in with BA and proceed straight to ‘Fast Bag Drop’ as instructed.

There is a big queue at the regular check in desk but ‘Fast Bag Drop’ is empty.
I breeze up to the nice lady and as I drag my bag full of shoes and clothes yet again unworn (why do I wear the same old gear over and over?) I hear a big Asian man shout “Someone should tell her there is a big queue”
I turn and look at him pointing at me, yet he still can’t confront me.

Me-“Why don’t you grow some balls and say what you want straight to me then?” I shout back at him as I pass over my boarding card to check in my bag.

Asian man (Now annoyed) - “You have jumped the queue”

Me-“No I haven’t and the next time you decide to complain make sure you know you are right or you will look an ass for shouting at women, have you no respect? This is the fast bag drop that I was told to go to by that big British Airways man (I pointed to a ground staff member who put me in this queue) and stop shouting at me and pointing at me or I will get security to stop you”

My Check in lady-“This woman is right, have you already checked in at the automated machine Sir?, if not then stay in that queue as indicated, stop distracting my customer when I am trying to ask serious security questions please”

By now the queue behind him, who were once on his side three seconds ago, were now distancing themselves from ‘his’ embarrassing mistake!
I smiled at him, well sniggered actually, he saw this and started shouting at me and called me a ‘Whore!’
At this the security men came over and took him out of the queue!
Lovely day at the airport!

I finally arrived in Glasgow and went outside for a coffee and a cookie. As soon as I sat down I called my mate, and as soon as I unwrapped my cookie…SEVENTEEN wee aggressive Glasgow Sparrows came hopping onto my table and tried to peck me and my cookie…it was like a fucking Hitchcock scene I kid you not!

I literally could not hear my mate for the noise the birds were making…they were screeching and chirruping at me so loudly I screamed at them…nothing would deter them! They were so cocky!

My pal asked me if I had decided to call him from the Amazon rainforest as he too could hear the ‘BIRDS’ cheeping in the background!

My mate-“Where the fuck are you? On a David Attenborough show?”

Me-“I am swamped by angry wee birds trying to get my cake…FUCK OFF YA WEE FUCKER!” was all he could hear me say.

People were walking past laughing at the lone woman and her angry bird collection, a Policeman went past and I asked him to bludgeon them with his truncheon but he smiled and said “They are only wee birds, don’t be so nasty”

“If you find me here with my eyes pecked out in ten minutes, it’s your fault” I screamed at him. The wee brown, grey fluffy fuckers gathered around my ankles, some hopping dangerously close to my hand as I broke my cake with shaky fingers, so I pulled out a box of matches I had in my bag and lit three like a small torch and waved it at them.


People were now watching a crazy haired woman trying to burn small birds….Honestly I looked like a nutter. I stuffed the cake into my mouth, the birds fled and immediately there was silence. Gone…all of them…no cake to peck and I was left sitting with a mouth full of cake and three burnt matches swearing at nothing.

Welcome to Glasgow Janey…

Fringe show

Well that’s the previews over and I learned so much from them it was so worthwhile doing. I now have a good idea of what i am taking to Edinburgh this year.

I am back at the flat after having spent the day with Monica, she made a great lunch and we had a good walk round Chelsea. I am so exhausted, but happy.

I am also looking forward to seeing some good shows at Edinburgh including my mate Noel Faulkener's show, he is a great writer/performer and I can’t wait to be entertained by him.

Nothing exciting happened today that I can entertain you guys with to be honest...so I may make up a story about a talking cat...or maybe not as the case may be!
Although I was chatted up today by a twelve year old boy and his two mates on big BMX bikes near the flats here, well I say chatted up... they blocked my path on the quiet street and said -

"Hey old woman show us yer fanny"

So I laughed and threw my head back and said "Fuck off ya wee prick or I'll burn you" and then threatened to belt him hard with my family sized bottle of Pepsi in a plastic bag.

They moved so fast, despite being on clumsy big bikes, they swivelled around and pedalled off into the sunset.
Good...I love bullies...bring 'em on!

Little fuckers...I may live here in the posh part but I am an East Ender and I can still have 'em.

Talk tomorrow!

Sleepless in Westminster

I cannot seem to sleep well, this flat is amazing though...two bedrooms, ensuite toilets and power showers deluxe and I lie in that big bed and stare at the ceiling...I even have air con, yet I cannot rest well.

Driving me mad, all my dreams are surreal and weird.

I keep dreaming I lie there and talk to my husband and it seems so very real.

I went for a good walk yesterday all around this area, and it's so lovely. The Houses of Parliament are behind my garden and the river walk is just amazing.

I walked round the square where all the protestors stay, living there beneath the banners they have erected in protest to our elected Government and it seems a law is being passed to move them away as there will be no protestors allowed within a certain boundary of the Houses of Parliament, so that the MP and the PM can sit safely in the 'Big House' secure in the knowledge that when they pass that square they don’t have to look into the eyes of the defiance of the people....such shit I say.

What a fucking blatant disregard to our freedom of speech.

What is wrong with the 'chosen few' (who we must never chose again I say) are they too scared to see the gentle, yet powerful and peaceful words that challenge them? Do we live in state where we cannot talk about what we believe in?

I may just rip off one of these expensive Egyptian cotton sheets off the bed here and write up FREEDOM OF SPEECH FOR ALL on it and set up camp in the square.

Or maybe I will not bother as I am scared beasties that live in the grass or worse...RATS will come and live on me....I am good at the talking but worried about the long haul involved...so I applaud the bravery of those people who stand up for themselves in that square near Parliament and urge you all to support their right to freedom of speech. It's our rights too that are being affected.

See what happened you put me near a government building and I get all political!

I am getting ready for my preview show tonight at Richmond and I think I am better prepared than Friday's show.

It's exciting to have a whole new HOUR to take to Edinburgh!

Roll on August!

OH MY GOD! ALEXANDER O'NEAL!

YES! The soul sexy love God..Alexander O'Neal was a guest on the radio show BBC radio 4 'Loose Ends' (Tonight Saturday 6.15pm).

I was doing a guest spot and HE was sitting beside ME....I melted...I have all his music on my IPOD.

I did this story about how Ashley was selling my knickers on EBAY and I actually offered live on air Alexander O'Neal a pair of mine for FREE!!!!!

The show went well, I was nervous and I did advertise my blog on the radio also, I am so naughty.

Last night my preview went as well as expected, I was nervous but I threw away the script in my head and went on a rant about stuff that turned out to be funny, the audience liked me so I am therefore happy. I did discover some of the stuff that didn’t work and that will be excluded for tomorrow nights preview.

I am still all gooey about Alexander O'Neal...how much of a tit am I?

So it's Saturday and I am free tonight though am on call in case some comedy club has a let down, but otherwise am free to chill out!

It's Summer in the city and I am hot hot hot...but not as hot as I was an hour ago!

I am in love....the black man who lives in my head is jealous, but that's life.

Listen in tonight if you wish, it also streams on the internet Radio 4 BBC Loose ends 6.15pm.

London and sweat

Well here I am in Hot hot London....wheeew! The laptop could not get a dial tone in the apartment, so I am in the hottest internet shop in the world...I feel deathly sitting here with sweat dripping down my back! Nice!

So the flight went well, except the airport security took my good eyebrow tweezers off me, I suppose as a security risk in case I 'pluck' my way into making the captain crash the plane!

Weirdly though just at the newsstand in departures I am offered a 'giant' Toblerone for £1...now as far I can see that is a huge weapon, I could take someone out with a giant piece of angular chocolate!

The apartment is beautiful, Monica and I had a nice dinner last night (she cooked, I got in the way) and we chatted till all hours of the night...it was fun.

I was pleasantly surprised when I got to London's Heathrow and saw the Evening Standard magazine article which is over two pages and quotes "Janey Godley hot tipped for the Perrier Award at this years Edinburgh fringe" I am now very nervous, my first preview is tonight and my nerves are high.

I will be fine, probably not Perrier material...but fine.

I have to go as the heat in this wee back shop internet place is overbearing...or I am suddenly in the throws of my menopause....hopefully not, as I may want to have another baby this year.

AM JOKING!

Confessions of a confessor

Well thanks for all the comments about yesterday's blog. I had explained my need for honesty in my life and confession...and not being a Catholic ( I have no religion, can you tell?) I decided that the best thing to do is keep all my dark secrets within my own head. Maybe on my death bed all will be revealed! I am not about to unleash my mistakes on the general public!

On another note, I just sat and watched Roman Holdiay with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, it was awesome to see all the beautiful places I had visited last week. Despite having no Royal connections ( Hepburn was a Princess in the movie) I had the most amazing Roman Holiday myself. I will go back.

Today I had nasty problems with my internet connections, my previous provider was Wanadoo, it was problematic so I cancelled it and tried to switch to BT internet but how the fuck was I to know that the whole process took 20 days in all to complete! I am aghast at the service...surely in today's technology it can happen in a New York minute? NO NO NO!

So I am on no broadband and limited to internet time whilst the fuckers make the switch over...GRrrrrrr...I am so very annoyed.

Life is good just now, I am off to London tomorrow and the people at Crownlawn who get me accomodation have come up trumps again! I do love them, I am going to stay in a lovely apartment in central London.

My best mate Monica is coming round for dinner in my new smart London pad and after ten years of friendship I have NEVER cooked for her! My husband has cooked for her as he can cook, but I am now about to face the challenge. Bear in mind Monica owns her own PR company that represents THE BEST CHEF IN THE WORLD! Yes Heston Blumental is her client and I will have to get on the phone and have my husband talk me through steak and roasted asparagus! I am nervous but will rise to the challenge.

Hope she doesn't want something strange like souffle' ..?

I will be fine...I hope. If it all fails we will just eat crisps and sit on the floor and talk about men for three hours over a bottle of good wine...that's what we normally do anyway!

I still have a disconnected idea of what i am doing for my preview shows and the radio show...I am nervous but will do my best. There is a nice write up going in the Evening Standard tomorrow night, Bruce Dessau came to Glastonbury to interview me for the article which will feature details of my previews. I am shitting a brick...or if my cooking goes wrong...just shitting.

I am sitting here listening to the Scottish news and can hear how some of the protestors from the G8 summit were submitted to psychological damage in the London Road police cells...I spent the night in those cells when they found guns in the house I stayed in that belonged to my father in law.

The only psychological damage I suffered was that wee fat woman who works in the police office came to give me tea in the morning, she was small and fat and looked like Les Dawson when he dressed as a woman on TV....I could not stop laughing at her, she was not pleased and when I asked for a hot bath and some clean clothes-she fucking laughed right back at me and said " Yeah fuck you ye arse, where de ye think ye are? The fucking Hilton?, see if pulling a gun on me gets ye a fried egg ya cunt!" With that she slammed the door and left me tea-less!

So have a good night all and will chat when I am safely (I hope) tucked up in my nice temporary flat in London.

The heat is on

I am slowly melting into a fat blob of liquid cellulite.

I love Glasgow in the summertime, but shopping in that heat is clearly mental. The amount of kids out of school running up and down shopping aisles is crazy and screaming mothers, tempers flared by the heat chasing them for a slap (is that not illegal?)...it's a world gone mad.

I am ready for my preview shows in london, I was slightly concerned that i would not have an act...but it seems a quick chat with my daughter helped, she reminded me of all the stuff I talk about and we both worked out some funny shit to do. So I was calm then I got a call from BBC about the radio show I am on this weekend "Loose Ends", I have to do 4 minutes of material ...not that its a problem, but I always panic that my material is good but may bot be suitable for certain times of the day. I am not a 'blue' comic by any means but I do worry.

Then I got a call from BBC Scotland to remind me of a show they are filming that I am involved in, fuck I forgot about that. Never mind it's all sorted and my head is around it all now.

I have been feeling a bit weird lately, just odd in an emotional way. When I was in Italy, I had a chat with a good pal and we talked about being really really honest and this stuck in my head, I dont know if I am totally honest about everything in my life and it worries me. There is some stuff I will take to my grave and I am not sure if I can or ever will talk about it.

I wont talk about it on here, but my mate tells me he wants to start a website where people can be truly honest about stuff and that struck me as a good idea.

When I was in Manchester, I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote down everything I am guilty of ( bear in mind my Edinburgh show is called Janey Godley is Innocent) and I sat there staring at it. Then I burnt the paper and fell back asleep and was plagued by horrible screaming nightmares, so much so I walked in my sleep.

I have said some nasty things in my life, done some unforgivable things and witnessed some stuff that I will never talk about...surely thats not unique?

Is it?

My Knickers on EBAY!

My daugter Ashley cornered me yesterday when I got home...I am all exhausted and she shoves a pair of knickers into my hand and black ink marker and said "Sign these whilst I take a picture"...so I did. I then went into unpack my things.

Eventually when my brain worked properly I asked her "Why did you take a photo of me signing knickers?"

Ashley said " Well I am hoping your book will make you more famous and I am selling your pants on EBAY"

I am shocked. I am hoping she is joking and I am hoping the knickers she has belonging to me are sparkling and clean. The last thing I want is for some weirdo to have a pair of my old pants with dodgy stains on....

Well today in Scotland is the offical hotest day on the year. I watched loads of mad Scots walk about burnt red...so many people will lie in bed tonight and feel the hot skin on their back start to blister..USE SUNSCREEN!

You always know its hot in Glasgow because the next day newspapers report of two people who died in their garden...fucking hell, when will folk realise that the BIG HOT ball in the sky is made of BURNING FLAMES?

We went to the beach for a wee while and it was way too hot to even sit on the coast..we are all at home..half naked clustered around a fan....I would kill for snow right now.

I am getting my show prepared for my previews this weekend in London, my new show for the Edinburgh Fringe is called

"Janey Godley is Innocent".

Well hope it is funny as I have press etc coming to see the show. Cant change the title now as I have posters etc all made and ready to go and my daughter is doing my PR this year, no reason to spend 3 grand on someone else talking about me when she can do it perfectly well and is in fact very good at PR. She has a lot of experience in that field and has managed to get big audiences into shows every year for other companies that hired her, for me she will work for love.

I hope...or maybe I can pay her in used underwear to sell on EBAY?

The Observer

Just managed to read a newspaper without tearing it up (read post below!) and the Observer has a big BOOK review section and they TIP my BOOK 'Handstands in the Dark' as one of their recommendations as a 'HOT TIP' WOW!

I am well pleased with that...I am up withere with some of the best books this year.

Thats worth all the stress and hard work.

Am off to sleep, painkillers have finally kicked in and my womb no longer feels like it's trying to implode.

Am off to London this week, this time I promise I will not go to the M15 building and demand a go on their internet...still cant believe I assumed that the biggest SPY- INTELLIGENCE building in Millbank, London was an internet cafe.......

I am an arse.

Am going home

I am home..at last!

Awoke this morning in Manchester with period pains from hell ( I wish the government would legalise CRACK once a month for women)..the journey loomed ahead, so I upgraded to first class and encountered a well dressed oppressive old man who demanded my newspaper (wot is it with me and fucking loonies on trains?).

this is how it went...

I sit in an empty first class carriage, happy to be alone...to quietly bleed and moan. I spread out my newspapers and set about distracting myself from my womb that feels like a fucking evil Doberman is trying to eat it's way out.

An elderly couple come on and sit three seats in front of me. She is stooped and very old but a pretty looking old Dame, he is tall well dressed in check trews and sparkling white shirt.

He looks over at me then stumbles up to the seat across the aisle from mine and stared at my newspaper, then flashed a glance at me...basically communicating to me that he wants to read my Sunday Newspapers, but wants me to 'offer' them to him. I am no mood to placate old grumpy old men, he can ask me if he wants to read my papers.

He sits there and I can see out of the side of my vision that he intently staring at the newspaper...still...he then gets some courage and reaches over with his liver spotted gnarled hand and simply grasps them off my table in front of me.

My reflex action is there before he can escape to his seat..I grab at his wrist, pull out my IPOD earplug and say "That is my newspaper sir"

His reumy old eyes flinch and he diverts his stare and gazes through me and mutters " I thought they belonged to the train company"

me-"Well even if that was true would it not be at least polite to ask me instead of grabbing at them? If I did that to you, you would insist that MY GENERATION had no respect"

He simply stood there watching me whilst holding my freshly bought newspapers, his wife watched with frightened eyes that told me he normally got his own way. Well, not with fucking me he ain't.

"You could ask me if you can read my papers" I spoke to fill the dead air.

"Can I read your newspaper?" he barked in defiance at me.

"No..no way, not until you learn some manners Old man, now put them down and get back from my table" I hissed.

He threw my Sunday Times on the floor in the centre of the train aisle and threw himself onto his seat.

I simply leaned over and picked it up and sat there in front of him and slowly but very deliberately tore it into long equal strips..one after the other until I had managed to decimate the whole newspaper including magazines and sports sections...the noise ripped the air as I sat there smiling tearing away slowly but happily. There was a huge pile of confetti'ed Sunday news sat there right on my table. I missed nothing, in fact it was theraputic, all that destruction and slashing noise filling the air cured me of my angst and period pains.

The old man sat there, his face going purple, his anger seeped into the carriage, yet I smiled.

Fuck Him...he may be able to bully his poor wee wife, but I am not going to let any man ever bully me or make me feel that I should do anything to keep them happy.

I would have been that wee old woman had I not stood my ground years ago...in fact I think I was her for a short while.

No more!

I am the SCOTTISH RIPPER! (of newspapers)

Trains and autism

Yesterday i got on the train to Manchester, the Glasgow station was full of police...and instead of making me feel safe they made me feel scared. I told my husband in the car that if I die he has to marry again and make sure he enjoys his life.... ( I am so fucking melodramatic in the mornings) he looked me in the eye and said " If I have to enjoy life when you die, why do I need to get married again?".

I smiled and headed for my train.

I found the best place to sit was the quiet zone. I had checked out first class but it was way too expensive to upgrade and I dont mind paying but Virgin are having a laugh...£80 extra to get into first class!

So the train got very busy and people spilled into the 'Quiet Zone' with no fucking intention of being 'quiet'...this included seven attention seeking/mentally disturbed/autistic teenage boys.

I sat there and desperately tried to ignore their shouts and sexual comments at every woman who walked past. Three of the boys sat quietly, very deep in their own thoughts with a pack of cards that they flicked very quickly and almost obssesively....one boy who stood about six feet tall kept running up and down the carriage demanding attention and tried over and over to get me to talk to him. He made overt sexual comments to me, he leaned over and pulled on my IPOD ear phones, he slammed his hand on my table...all the while his 'carer' ( a girl of around 20 who clearly was out of her depth and getting anxious at the mounting tension) tried to placate him.

I answered my phone ( I know it was the quiet zone but fucking hell that rule had been abandoned ages ago) and as I spoke to the man from the BBC...attention seeking boy started laughing at my Scottish accent and shouted 'HAGGIS HAGGIS' over and over again....I could hardly hear my important call.

Now I am compassionate when it comes to dealing with mental problems...I have Attention defict problems myself...but this is MY JOB he is affecting now and the fat 20 year old could not control him..so with one hand on the phone at my ear, I took my shoe off with my other and whacked him on the head.

He was stunned and sat quietly till my call ended.

"You cannot keep shouting" I spoke quietly to him " I have mental problems and if you upset me I am going to throw you off the train..when it's still moving, my social workers will accept that I had to do it and the voices in my head are saying "Kill the boy" now if you run about anymore, you and I are going to have a situation, are we clear on this?" Then I screamed into the air like a wolf...I howled and banged the table and then went straight back to reading my book in complete silence.

The other passengers who had been traumatised by the boy now looked at me in amazement...the boy sat with his hands in his lap scared.

I had OUT-LOONEY-ED him...an old trick I learned years ago in the pub I used to run. Nutters hate anyone being NUTTIER than them...it scares them.

He gently smiled across at me and said very quietly "I am sorry". I smiled right back at him and whispered "Thank you".

The journey carried on in peace.

Manchester is a great city...the sun is shining and the gig went well...I was worried about how people would feel after the BIG LONDON 7/7 thing...I even thought up jokes about how the French took London getting the Olympic bid very badly...but then thought better of it and carried on my gig without reference to terrorism, I am not advertising the fuckers and letting them rule my life. I am a Glaswiegan, we are defiant in the face of death. I have had more friends die from heroin which is more than people who have had friends who died from terrorism. I will survive.

Life does go on and I am sitting here on a beautiful Saturday morning in Manchester.

Have a good day all and talk tomorrow.

Life in London

London is my second home, this is true. I awoke this morning to the horrifying news that London had been attacked. My first thoughts was for my best mate Monica, she travels the length and breadth of the Capital daily due to her job as a restaurant PR. My nerves jangled as her phone-which is always ON and NEVER off-blankly refused to be answered.

After a 20 minute wait she called me back. Alive and well.

Thank goodness, I love her too much to live with knowledge of any pain she may have suffered. She is like my sister.

I am lucky, there is many many sad people tonight.

I sit here in my safe wee flat in Glasgow, last week I was worried about how to apologise to the people I unintentionally hurt by writing about them in my book- the people's lives I had invaded and paraded through the pages of what I saw and know as the truth from my eyes.

Well maybe today is the best day to say sorry, tragedy like this makes me realise we might never get the chance to say sorry or to say I love you.

This sounds very ponitficated and sentimental...but it's just how I feel.

I am in Manchester tomorrow to do comedy, I am London next week to do my Edinburgh previews and nothing will stop me. I have to live how I like and enjoy the freedom we do have in the UK. There is many mothers tonight in Iraq, scared to send their kids to the shops or to prayers...in case they die or get shot on the way. This is the world we live in.

I sat and watched the horror unfold on the news today, so I called my niece and got her to bring her two wee kids Abi and Shawn to come to me and we packed a picnic and headed for the beach. Ashley was busy working, but I had fun watching my baby niece Abi clap with delight at the shores of Loch Lomond and rip off her 'candles' as she calls them- 'sandals' as we call them and totter with chubby fat feet chasing after a duck.

The duck ran ten steps to every two of hers and the wee girl could not understand why it would not come to her beckoning. I watched her wee face crease with frustration, she threw her arms up and shouted 'duck' 'duck', yet this wee feathered creature ran off faster until finally it took flight.

Abi gave up and finally shouted 'bye duck' and turned her attention to her pack of sushi and sat with her brother.

I love the kids and wonder where the world will be when that cute baby is a mother herself. I hope it's as exciting, frightening, wonderful yet safe.

Coz that's the world I like.

Rome 

Home Thoughts From a BROAD!

Well I am finally home. I did try to blog but the internet crashed three times over there and I almost set fire to the shop in fucking frustration!

Well here's some things I need ot tell you.

A) I got my mouth electocuted!

I went to a beauty salon for a 'cleansing facial' and quicky recalled that involved squeezing black heads...now I LOVE squeezing them, in fact I would squeeze the black heads on atramps arse if he let me...but I digress...I HATE mine (If I can possibly have any) being ripped out of my face, this is a sport I like inflicting not being the victim of so to speak.

The 'Therapist' was a small dumpy black haired Italian woman who spoke no English and I of course have limited Italian and dont know the words for "Leave my blackheads alone ya cunt" as that is never quoted in any phrasebook.

She approached me with this scary big white tube circular light and in the middle was this think giant magnified glass which she squashed her face inot, making the image of HER blackheads temptingly squeezable and she had a moustache that made all the nuns jealous.

She procceded to delve into my sunburned skin till I screamed "Holy Jesus fuck" for which she smacked me hard!

"No Jesus word" she scolded and then went into yet another squeeze position...I was in agony.

Normally beauty salons are quiet and the woman floats about the room silently creating an aura of serenity not this wee Italian mamma...I actually thought the clatter of pots and stuff as I was' relaxing' was her making pasta or at least re-arranging her kitchen.

Then she applied roughly this odd thick paste...I lay there and then heard a buzzing sound which alarmed me greatly as I hate anything electrical touching me (OK Vibrators are run on batteries NOT live fucking feed).

My fears were well found because as she went near my lips a big loud spark and a bang rang out as my lips got SHOCKED. I screamed and jumped up...she ranted at me like Mussolini at his hanging party...I was now convinced this treatment no longer belonged in the 'Realxing' category.

My lips smarted she ranted and I fled the room...I dont give a fuck what new innovative treatment this was...me being electrocuted was not going to reduce my wrinkles by any means. In fact I think I just gaines two new lines on my face.

The Italians are by nature a well dressed Nation, though I cant get sexually excited at any man dressed in Lemon Linen and sockless loafers. Who knows?

Last night I got drunk...yes I know...me and my self proclaimed soberity...but I got well pissed on gin. Me and my mate both got a bit pissed and I had been stressed but that drunken night did manage to get rid of my tension.

All thanks to Tom and his great company and his hospitality.

I will remember Rome forever.

The other thing that struck me and made me laugh was the way the Italians smack their kids around...now dont go all pretentious and moral on me here, it was like Glasgow in the 1960's where small tantrum makers were open handed slapped by anyone close enough to get to them! Great memories for me of neighbours of mine that would 'skelp' me for being cheeky...this still happens in Italy.

I can go on about the traffic, the pick pockets, the shit coffee's but I will concentrate on the great Pizza, the wonderful scenery and the amazing fashonista's who trip tropped over eight million black cobbles in sparklingly sexy spiked heels...that will stay with me forever!

I will post some of my favourite photo's soon.

pains and nightmares in a beautiful city

I am all sore with that fall yesterday, I must have pulled some muscles as I pavement slammed, the tops of my arms ache and I spent the night having goulish dreams of being buried alive. I woke with strange voices talking loudly and realised it was the cleaners next door to my room. My bruises are taking on whole new forms of fun.

They always say you should leave a part of you in Rome and take a bit home with you, well i left blood on the ancient cobbles and am taking home grit embedded in my knee...how's that for gift like knick knacks? I possibly have Caesars toe nail clipping seeping into my DNA as we speak.

I am incredibly hot and the weather is so sapping.

I watch the teenagers parade the Piazza Navonna (beautiful square with fountains), they carry these God Awful loud megaphone type toys that blast indescribable voice morphed slogans...they all seem to love them and every other fucker has one. I know there is nothing that these sperm filled acne ridden youths have to say, that I want to hear LOUDLY! It is a point to be made that I have as yet never seen a girl carry one of these bloody tannoys- they are statue annoyers..I am sure the ancient posturing stone people would love to leap off their marble traps and kick the daft Italian boys in the crotch.

The amazing stillness and the delicate yet demanding beauty of the Panthenon is broken constantly by the noise of these fuckers...I think they should be banned.

Ok rant over! I am sure the Italians hated me shouting and swearing as i clattered my ungracious body onto their sidewalk.

Today I am in an internet cafe beside Castel Sant' Angelo on my way on foot to the Vatican. My blister hurts but I do think the Pope deserves my visit.

Dont you?

Talk soon. Ciao Baby!

the face of jesus on my palm

Yes..you got it..here is the money shot- that bruise where I fell today is coming up as a face of Jesus on my palm! Well it's either him or Jimi Hendrix but since I am in Rome I am plumping for the BIG MAN Jesus himself.

I am scared to let the locals know this in case they keep me here and pay pilgramige to my scabby hand and then beat it more to keep the face alive!

I walked miles today, I saw the Spanish Steps (not that nice to be honest) but then made it onto another big monument and then another and then another, I cannot recall all the names right now but I will give a better detailed account when my hand doesnt hurt when I type.

As I bend my hand to manipulate the keyboard, Jesus's face morphs into an image of Tweetie Pie, I cannot believe I am the first woman to get that much fun from my palm...usually a male dominated area of solitary past time.

I am a bit tanned and that looks nice on me, saves covering myself in cheap bronzing powder. I am still scared of the traffic here, the people drive like suicide bombers on crack.

must go, I need to look at the bruise on my right breat, if that shows an image of the Last Supper...then I am of to throw myself at the mercy of nuns and thats no great prospect!

Tits are for falling on!

The heat here is incredible beyond belief...but I like it. I am slowly being acclimatised to it all and have now realised why Scottish football fans are well behaved in European Countries, they are too damned hot too fight. That heat saps your strength so much it would be impossible to pilage and go mad in the burning sun!

I have seen a lot already and am enjoying this wonderful place more than I could imagine. I wandered last night acroos a bridge and ended up in an area called Trastevere which is the Roman version of Soho, it used to be the area of prostitutes and thieves but now it is an artists enclave and full of quirky Boho shops and galleries.

I sat in a small bar for a drink and met three people

One of whom was Italian and the other two Glaswiegan! Only I could travel miles to meet a woman from Newton Mearns (Posh area of Glasgow) and a bloke who lived many years in Glasgow but is originally from Troon. They are both teaching English in Rome...with that very special twist of Scottish-ness mixed in just to leave some kind of cultural stamp on the children. I suggested they let them watch " Balamory" ( Scottish kids show with strong Northern accents) that would be fun.

One of the woman had a friend who joined us and she owns an English book shop that stocks my book!

Later on I was passing a small Japanese man who was carefully setting up a camera shot (how unusual) and as I walked by I said "Miaow" (my funny thing I like saying impulsively) He replied

"Nihow" back to me and thought it was nice that he had enterd into my spirit of animal noises...turns out my friend explained that Nihow is ' Hello' in Japanese! My cat language is international...

So late last night sitting eating outdoors in this restaurant that I shall never go back to as the service is shit and the food looks ever so slightly like prison meat (I know this trust me) I was approached at least nine times by odd people bearing goods for sale...who the fuck needs Amazon.com these are the people who bring the goods to your face even as you chew food that you are not sure of, you are being touted bright noisy epileptic inducing flashing fuck knows why toys, or flowers bearing hay fever, photgraphers desperate for your image, pens ( I kid you not, who fucking needs a pen that quick), more noisy bright toys, more flowers, accordian playing warbling singing annoying freaks...I swear its hard to digest food when a whole range of shite is being flashed at you as you eat.

I of course was gracious to these beggars/sellers and politely told them to "Fuck off " as i slithered more nasty pasta down my gob.

Last night I stood in some unknown square of amazing beauty and watched three tall pompous priests eat huge ice creams and I thought it would make a nice photo. I politely asked them if I could take their picture.

Priest with least ice cream in his mouth-"No! GO AWAY!

me-"Ok Man of God no need to be so nasty, Jesus Christ would be mad at your attitude!

I was tempted to ask them how it feels to have your leader a different religion from you but refrained...as in Rome...So I shouted back at them.

Dont worry Rome wreaked it's own revenge on me.

I went home with a big blistered toe that bled, and this morning I got up to go to the pharmacy to buy plasters and fell smack hard on the street, my hands banged hard on the ground, my tits bounced me back and my knee scraped on the ancient cobbles!

As I stood up trying to regain some composure, my breasts hurt, my knee bled and a statue looked down smiling at me. I know it was laughing, but I carried on walking to the chemist and got cleaned up and suitably 'plastered' and off for my next adventure.

I am not going to the Vatican today, I get the feeling I am not allowed and Rome is making me pay for all the nasty stuff I have said about nuns etc...I am just waiting on an ancient gargoyle falling off a building and landing on my head...then the revenge is complete.

meanwhile I am off to say Miaow to more Japanese people, whilst I have this international gift for languge I may as well use it.

When in Rome!

Can you believe this place? I am over whelmed beyond belief. There is a Colloseum in the street where we would find a Marks and Spencers, there is a Pyramid where normally you see a Macdonalds. I am so in love with this city, you turn a corner and there stands a building built before Jesus got to be a jew...hows that for mind blowing!?

Beautiful, grand, marble and statuesque fountains surround the city and just when you least expect it you stumble on an ancient piece of history waiting for you to stare at.

I sat last night in a steet cafe, drank cheap wine and ate yummy pasta (according to my dad, Rome makes the best pasta...weird eh?) I am meeting up with my friends today, am off to shout at the Pope,will probably be attacked by scary angry nuns who like a fight. I will challenge them to some tiger bating if they wish...I am a warrior!

talk soon.

Seeing old friends

I am growing hairs on my face...funny I know-BUT I dont want to be known as the bearded lady. Why the fuck is small dark hairs growing under my chin and yet grey ones are growing on my head? I am scared to check my pubes in case I have a poon-nanny that resembles Don King.

I have to face it that I am growing old, and I hate it.

Meanwhile Ashley is looking lovely and sniggers when I tweeze hairs from my chin...She laughs at my floppy tummy and guffaws at my grey hair...what she doenst know is..

THIS IS HER FUTURE!

I have yet to work out why bra's will only support my huge knockers if they can equally strangle and torture my ribcage. I also dont know why I am growing love handles on my back..what the fuck is that about? I hate me today. Yet I still get laid...ok by a man who has loved me since he was sixteen and has grown old with me. I want Brad Pitt to lust after me, is that too much to ask? Probably.

I am pig sick of the market for magazines that display extraordinarily skinny lollypop headed celebs..I dont know if I can stop eating cake to look like some starved skinny boy. I do wish I was slim and pretty but it wont happen. I like cake.

So today I went to visit my old friend Janie-she is Patsy paton in my book. She is the gutsiest, spunkiest sharpest woman I have ever known. If you think I had a hard life you should hear her talk for a while. Anyway she came with me to Borders books as I was off to sign some copies for the store.

Janie stood back and watched then giggles as she picked up a random book that looked like it had weird writing on the front and she shouted "Look Godley, this book is called 'How to be an idol' I think I might buy that one"

I looked closer at the title and said back to her "It actually says 'How to Be idle' Janie".

We both laughed our faces off...only she could come up with that one!

Janie is still the same woman I always remember, before I married my husband she was his fathers girlfriend and throughtout our courtship and eventuall marriage, Janie was always a port in a storm for me. She knew what I was going through time after time and consistently supported me and looked after me. I love her. She has never changed and still shouts at me and tells me off and still loves me without prejudice. Thats a mate!

We went shopping and when I told her I was off to Rome tommorrow she asked me to buy 'Roasary Beads 'from the Vatican.

me-"No that Nazi Pope annoys me" I sniggered.

She slapped me on the back of the head and called me an 'Evil atheist with no hope' but laughed at my candour. I realised that she needed her religion to keep her company as much as I needed my disregard for the church as mine. I will get her Rosary beads, she will love that gesture now she knows how much it annoys me to buy them.

I have packed all the clothes that I need to cover my fat flabby bits, I will go see the Vatican and will make that sentimental journey to the famous fountain from the film song 'Three Coins in a Fountain' as my mammy loved that film and when I was small she was enchanted by the scenes of Rome and always wanted to go there.

So in pilgrimage to my dead mum, I will see the things she never got to, I will sing the song in my head and think of the woman who danced in my childhood home swirling her skirt and imagining herself sitting on a Roman street. I may be fat and old, but I am still here.