I spent the whole night writing stuff that meant nothing on my blog, and the real truth is I felt quite down today. I don’t really know why, I had one of those days when I ended up reflecting on my life a bit for no reason and then felt a bit down.
I don’t know how that happens, but it does I am sure.
I know I should be happy as I have so much to loom ahead to, like going to NZ with my daughter to what looks like a fun successful tour and then I get to go to London to perform at Soho theatre and then I go to Edinburgh Fringe with my adorable daughter Ashley and before all that I get to dress up nice and go to BAFTA TV awards…but somehow I felt flat.
I suppose part of me is worried I wont miss my husband when I go to NZ.
I know that’s sounds odd and am hoping he sticks to his rule that he never reads this blog; coz I think what I will say will hurt him.
I have spent an entire lifetime with him, since I was 18 to be precise and way back then I was besotted with him as all young brides are. I would lie awake to watch him sleep; I lay there in the darkness and would kiss his face gently.
After I wrote my autobiography I know that I exposed our very turbulent and difficult marriage to the world, he never read it. He promised he wouldn’t and I am glad, but after all the press and radio stuff I did, he heard plenty to know that I had told our innermost problems to the listener ship of BBC Radio 4 and possibly the world.
So anyway, in the past ten years of doing comedy I have been away so much that I no longer miss him as much as any wife has the right or at least decency to do. It scares me.
I know that any relationship involves compromise, but when you compromise yourself too much, you end up infringing on your own personality and values, its like cutting up your own nation and adopting a new language and trading with a hostile country. Some of it is worthwhile but some of it makes you want to throw out the illegal immigrant values and become racist….well racist against HIM.
The last four years he has become a whole new man, the man I wanted in 1986, not necessarily the man I need in 2006…so where does that leave me?
I have managed to change or at least help manipulate a bastard into a decent bloke and now I am not sure if that’s what I want.
I sometimes look in the mirror and don’t know who is staring back….have you ever done that? Not recognised the person you see? That’s what I do.
So today I walked around town, all of these thoughts milling around my wee head and I worry that I have compromised too much and have ended up with someone I am not sure of and have a person inside of me that I don’t know.
So I am not sure who I am today, maybe tomorrow I will know me….but tonight…I am a stranger.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Scary Video’s
I have been watching some short videos on Livedigital, I love watching the home made ones, like my own live blogs or people’s self made short sketches. I can’t believe the amount of short videos that people download from TV and upload onto the site. I don’t want to watch snippets of TV shows but then I also am horrified at watching some horror films as well. They are the kind of ‘real’ films I don’t want to see. For example I inadvertently watched part of a ‘Real train death’ and a ‘real suicide bomber’ I was skipping through various films and unwittingly watched them! I was fucking traumatised for a whole day afterwards.
Who watches that stuff? Who wants to upload it and look over it? Should it be there?
Then I realise that my opinion is no issue, we have the freedom and rights to watch and listen to what we want. It scares me though and I mentioned to Ashley to be careful in case she watches them by mistake as well and she told me that she is of the internet generation and has saw all that stuff before and has no worries, at all. I should be more careful she told me!
So I need to get used to the fact I no longer need to keep protecting her from the world. I don’t think I can get used to that, but I should try to. She is more capable than me at times dealing with stuff.
I recall times when she did need me to look after her, I miss doing that.
I remember taking her aside when she was 14 years old and explaining why the girl in her class was bullying her, there was no actual violence, but this girl made everyone else in this all girl class ostracise her. This girl was jealous of Ashley and made sure she had no friends to turn to; it was a small class so that made it worse. I sat there and watched my daughters eyes fill with big fat sad tears as she told me how this girl ensured she sat alone at lunchtimes and was cruel to her privately.
I wanted to go into that school and stab that 14 year old girl in the eye with a screw driver.
Ashley was a stand up comic at 11 years old and did her own show at 13 years old at Edinburgh Fringe, this girl felt threatened by Ashley’s confidence and went about trying to dismantle it.
I encouraged Ashley to ignore her and laugh loudly any time the girl walked past and after a while I taught my daughter how to smirk secretly when the girl came near and yet keep a straight face when questioned by the nasty girl. Slowly Ashley built up a wall of laughter and silent giggles until the girl was hysterical with anger as to why Ashley was happy or laughing at her, Ashley denied this last accusation because such was the covertness of her smiles the teachers couldn’t understand why the nasty girl was upset at Ashley. To be honest laughing and smiling isn’t really a crime.
I suppose I taught my daughter a form of silent psychological warfare, something that makes the other person feel victimised and distraught, yet with no real actual harm to them, just making yourself look happy is enough to annoy them as your sadness is more important to them.
It did work, the girl did leave Ashley alone and even to this day that nasty girl has problems with Ashley, I know this as they met last week in a night club. The nasty girl saw Ashley and snubbed her as the group was introducing each other; Ashley recognised the snub and whispered something into one of the other girl’s ear and they both laughed loudly. The nasty girl saw this and screamed at Ashley “Why are you always laughing at me? You always laughed at me at school as well”
The nasty girl’s friend turned and said “Ashley wasn’t laughing at you, she just said that she loves watching the Pakistani boys talking ‘street and rap’ wishing they were really black and dangerous and not rich young preppy boys trying to look rough, it was funny!”
Ashley stood there smiling, raised her eyebrow and pulled herself up to her full height and said “I never laughed at you, weren’t we friends at school?”
The nasty girl shouted, now losing it “No we weren’t friends, everyone in the class hated you didn’t they Selina?” She turned to a brown haired girl standing beside Ashley.
Her mate looked at her with disgust and said “No we liked Ashley, she was always funny, you were a cow to her, you told us never to talk to her, but we liked her, grow up”
You can never be there to protect your kids all the time; you can only give them skills to handle the hard times. Laughing at them may just work.
So there we have it, sometimes bullies can be laughed down.
Who watches that stuff? Who wants to upload it and look over it? Should it be there?
Then I realise that my opinion is no issue, we have the freedom and rights to watch and listen to what we want. It scares me though and I mentioned to Ashley to be careful in case she watches them by mistake as well and she told me that she is of the internet generation and has saw all that stuff before and has no worries, at all. I should be more careful she told me!
So I need to get used to the fact I no longer need to keep protecting her from the world. I don’t think I can get used to that, but I should try to. She is more capable than me at times dealing with stuff.
I recall times when she did need me to look after her, I miss doing that.
I remember taking her aside when she was 14 years old and explaining why the girl in her class was bullying her, there was no actual violence, but this girl made everyone else in this all girl class ostracise her. This girl was jealous of Ashley and made sure she had no friends to turn to; it was a small class so that made it worse. I sat there and watched my daughters eyes fill with big fat sad tears as she told me how this girl ensured she sat alone at lunchtimes and was cruel to her privately.
I wanted to go into that school and stab that 14 year old girl in the eye with a screw driver.
Ashley was a stand up comic at 11 years old and did her own show at 13 years old at Edinburgh Fringe, this girl felt threatened by Ashley’s confidence and went about trying to dismantle it.
I encouraged Ashley to ignore her and laugh loudly any time the girl walked past and after a while I taught my daughter how to smirk secretly when the girl came near and yet keep a straight face when questioned by the nasty girl. Slowly Ashley built up a wall of laughter and silent giggles until the girl was hysterical with anger as to why Ashley was happy or laughing at her, Ashley denied this last accusation because such was the covertness of her smiles the teachers couldn’t understand why the nasty girl was upset at Ashley. To be honest laughing and smiling isn’t really a crime.
I suppose I taught my daughter a form of silent psychological warfare, something that makes the other person feel victimised and distraught, yet with no real actual harm to them, just making yourself look happy is enough to annoy them as your sadness is more important to them.
It did work, the girl did leave Ashley alone and even to this day that nasty girl has problems with Ashley, I know this as they met last week in a night club. The nasty girl saw Ashley and snubbed her as the group was introducing each other; Ashley recognised the snub and whispered something into one of the other girl’s ear and they both laughed loudly. The nasty girl saw this and screamed at Ashley “Why are you always laughing at me? You always laughed at me at school as well”
The nasty girl’s friend turned and said “Ashley wasn’t laughing at you, she just said that she loves watching the Pakistani boys talking ‘street and rap’ wishing they were really black and dangerous and not rich young preppy boys trying to look rough, it was funny!”
Ashley stood there smiling, raised her eyebrow and pulled herself up to her full height and said “I never laughed at you, weren’t we friends at school?”
The nasty girl shouted, now losing it “No we weren’t friends, everyone in the class hated you didn’t they Selina?” She turned to a brown haired girl standing beside Ashley.
Her mate looked at her with disgust and said “No we liked Ashley, she was always funny, you were a cow to her, you told us never to talk to her, but we liked her, grow up”
You can never be there to protect your kids all the time; you can only give them skills to handle the hard times. Laughing at them may just work.
So there we have it, sometimes bullies can be laughed down.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Multi tasking woman…..
I have finally got the poster designed for Square Street. That’s the sketch show my daughter Ashley and I will be performing at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. I am amazed at the amount of people who are aghast that I am doing three shows a day, I am producing them and performing them also and I will be on for the full three weeks.
People also forget that I used to run a bar 15 hours a day for 15 years, even during pregnancy!
I am woman hear me roar!
So I have designed the posters and am now getting everything organised for our NZ trip. Though I have had a lot of help from John Fleming who does manage to keep tabs on all deadlines and manages my schedule, which is wonderful. God knows how he has patience with me, when he sends me stuff to be done and I lose it amongst all my emails then find it a day before the deadline and write it, then forget to send it! I do eventually get there though.
I know I can multi task as I was sitting in Ashley’s bathroom having a pee, during that urination I managed to wipe down the skin with a bleached sponge, organise her magazine rack and arrange tampons into the a small box in her bathroom cabinet that sits beside the toilet bowl, and take a phone call! I did remember to wipe and wash don’t worry.
I have become the woman who knows where everything is in my entire household.
It really annoys husband and Ashley, they cannot begin to open and shut drawers or cupboards if I am around as I demand they tell me what they are seeking and I can tell them where it is…this irritates them. Don’t ask me why, I would be happy to have someone like that around.
Even though I am not always living there, I still know where everything is. For example the other morning I was lying in bed half sleep and heard Ashley opening the pine dresser drawers in the living room, then another drawer and then another. I began to shout
“What are you looking for?”
She replied with anger “Nothing, I am looking for nothing…..do you hear everything?”
I shouted back “Yes, now fucking tell me what you are looking for and I will locate it”
Ashley called back exasperated, as if telling me was a problem, maybe she would rather spend more time looking for stuff? Finally she shouts
“Ok I am looking for nail clippers if you must know”
“In the white box in the double cupboard on the third shelf in the kitchen”
I sleepily call out.
Husband whispered “How do you know where everything is in this house? You don’t actually live here full time, do you know where everything is in all the places you stay?”
“Yes, I know where everything is in the world; go ask me where Osama bin laden is?” I answer.
“Ok where is he?” Husband resigns himself to taking part in my early morning humour.
“He is in the wicker box, under my wedding dress that’s beneath the curtain bag in the top shelf of the hall cupboard, behind the boiler” I add and try to go back to sleep.
Husband turns over looks at me, smiles and replies “Do you think he hears us shouting and having sex?”
At that point Ashley has come into the room, holding out nail clippers for me to do her right hand “Ewww…who hears you fighting and having sex?”
“Osama Bin Laden” Husband answers.
“Ok, you two are freaks, I have no idea what you are speaking about” She says as I sit up and clip her long pointy pinkie that resembles a cocaine dealers favourite fingernail.
“He is in the wicker basket underneath mums wedding dress in the hall cupboard” husband adds.
“Who? Osama Bin Laden? Dad shut up, mum please put him in a home, this is the kinda shit he talks when you are not here and it scares me” Ashley stares at him.
“It’s a joke” I add trying to stop my lovely daughter from stabbing her dad with nail clippers.
See I can multi- task; by the way Osama is small spider who lives in my cupboard, in case anyone was worried that I had a beardy fundamentalist Muslim sitting in a wedding dress, beside my boiler.
People also forget that I used to run a bar 15 hours a day for 15 years, even during pregnancy!
I am woman hear me roar!
So I have designed the posters and am now getting everything organised for our NZ trip. Though I have had a lot of help from John Fleming who does manage to keep tabs on all deadlines and manages my schedule, which is wonderful. God knows how he has patience with me, when he sends me stuff to be done and I lose it amongst all my emails then find it a day before the deadline and write it, then forget to send it! I do eventually get there though.
I know I can multi task as I was sitting in Ashley’s bathroom having a pee, during that urination I managed to wipe down the skin with a bleached sponge, organise her magazine rack and arrange tampons into the a small box in her bathroom cabinet that sits beside the toilet bowl, and take a phone call! I did remember to wipe and wash don’t worry.
I have become the woman who knows where everything is in my entire household.
It really annoys husband and Ashley, they cannot begin to open and shut drawers or cupboards if I am around as I demand they tell me what they are seeking and I can tell them where it is…this irritates them. Don’t ask me why, I would be happy to have someone like that around.
Even though I am not always living there, I still know where everything is. For example the other morning I was lying in bed half sleep and heard Ashley opening the pine dresser drawers in the living room, then another drawer and then another. I began to shout
“What are you looking for?”
She replied with anger “Nothing, I am looking for nothing…..do you hear everything?”
I shouted back “Yes, now fucking tell me what you are looking for and I will locate it”
Ashley called back exasperated, as if telling me was a problem, maybe she would rather spend more time looking for stuff? Finally she shouts
“Ok I am looking for nail clippers if you must know”
“In the white box in the double cupboard on the third shelf in the kitchen”
I sleepily call out.
Husband whispered “How do you know where everything is in this house? You don’t actually live here full time, do you know where everything is in all the places you stay?”
“Yes, I know where everything is in the world; go ask me where Osama bin laden is?” I answer.
“Ok where is he?” Husband resigns himself to taking part in my early morning humour.
“He is in the wicker box, under my wedding dress that’s beneath the curtain bag in the top shelf of the hall cupboard, behind the boiler” I add and try to go back to sleep.
Husband turns over looks at me, smiles and replies “Do you think he hears us shouting and having sex?”
At that point Ashley has come into the room, holding out nail clippers for me to do her right hand “Ewww…who hears you fighting and having sex?”
“Osama Bin Laden” Husband answers.
“Ok, you two are freaks, I have no idea what you are speaking about” She says as I sit up and clip her long pointy pinkie that resembles a cocaine dealers favourite fingernail.
“He is in the wicker basket underneath mums wedding dress in the hall cupboard” husband adds.
“Who? Osama Bin Laden? Dad shut up, mum please put him in a home, this is the kinda shit he talks when you are not here and it scares me” Ashley stares at him.
“It’s a joke” I add trying to stop my lovely daughter from stabbing her dad with nail clippers.
See I can multi- task; by the way Osama is small spider who lives in my cupboard, in case anyone was worried that I had a beardy fundamentalist Muslim sitting in a wedding dress, beside my boiler.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Home and Away….
Being home is good, I am so glad to get into my own bed. Feels better and I slept well, I even made a few funny pics and put them on my Livedigital website.
I had such a silly situation at the NZ High Commission in London, I realised that I did not have a special document from Equity Actors Union in NZ that allows me to get a work permit. That has now been resolved and now on the day of travel to NZ (May 8th) I have to go to the NZ High Commission and pick up the permit, I know that’s cutting it a bit fine….but you know me, nothings worth doing unless we have a drama ensuing.
No doubt Ashley will be there with her camera, as I run to the place and sweat and beg to get the last minute documentation. I am such an arse for forgetting it.
Ashley and I will be attending the BAFTA TV awards the night before on the 7th of May, we will both not really be partying too hard as we do have the permit to pick up and a long haul flight to deal with.
I am not looking forward to that, she is a moany bitch when she is tired and she is tall and will not fit into the seats all that way, so if anyone is reading this and they work for BA please upgrade us?
I made a few funny satirical pictures about George Bush and posted them on my Livedigital site and the amount of patriotic US citizens that gave me hell was so funny and surprising, but I suppose there must be some supporters or he would never have got voted back in?
I have no idea what to wear to the BAFTA TV awards this year, Ashley bought a pair of high heels today, which will now make her seven foot tall! I mean she already is very tall, why she needs heels I will never know? I need stilts to make tall enough to wear any clothes that look good.
At least I have lost some weight, but my boobs are still humongous and now I look strange. I would love to be thin enough to wear a really sexy slinky black dress that clings in all the right ways, but sadly I must adhere to the - all - over – blousy- black - look- that covers me up.
Ashley told me today how she got chatted up by a cute guy, but she describes her feelings as ‘A hedgehog whose prickles come out all over and she rolls into a ball’ with embarrassment when guys talk to her, yet on stage she has the confidence of kick-boxer on speed. So strange, yet so normal I suppose.
I did a gig in London last week, after I came off people chatted to me and I get ever so uncomfortable with strangers especially after I come off stage, this one woman tried to talk to me and I mumbled something and she then said loudly “You are so rude, I was telling you how good you were and you just ignore me, you are a pompous bitch stuck up your own ass”
I was horrified and tried to explain that I am shy with complete strangers but as there was no where else to go I was thrust into the audience and had to talk to people. I would rather meet them outside comedy and then I can chat ok, its hard to explain but I must come across as really off - hand and difficult or a real prima donna, which I am not. I can talk for Britain, but not with audience members after a gig for some odd reason.
In suppose I don’t really have confidence at all, all I have is a stage persona that’s bigger and more confident than my own personality.
I am sorry this blog is a day behind but I have been so lazy. Thanks all
I had such a silly situation at the NZ High Commission in London, I realised that I did not have a special document from Equity Actors Union in NZ that allows me to get a work permit. That has now been resolved and now on the day of travel to NZ (May 8th) I have to go to the NZ High Commission and pick up the permit, I know that’s cutting it a bit fine….but you know me, nothings worth doing unless we have a drama ensuing.
No doubt Ashley will be there with her camera, as I run to the place and sweat and beg to get the last minute documentation. I am such an arse for forgetting it.
Ashley and I will be attending the BAFTA TV awards the night before on the 7th of May, we will both not really be partying too hard as we do have the permit to pick up and a long haul flight to deal with.
I am not looking forward to that, she is a moany bitch when she is tired and she is tall and will not fit into the seats all that way, so if anyone is reading this and they work for BA please upgrade us?
I made a few funny satirical pictures about George Bush and posted them on my Livedigital site and the amount of patriotic US citizens that gave me hell was so funny and surprising, but I suppose there must be some supporters or he would never have got voted back in?
I have no idea what to wear to the BAFTA TV awards this year, Ashley bought a pair of high heels today, which will now make her seven foot tall! I mean she already is very tall, why she needs heels I will never know? I need stilts to make tall enough to wear any clothes that look good.
At least I have lost some weight, but my boobs are still humongous and now I look strange. I would love to be thin enough to wear a really sexy slinky black dress that clings in all the right ways, but sadly I must adhere to the - all - over – blousy- black - look- that covers me up.
Ashley told me today how she got chatted up by a cute guy, but she describes her feelings as ‘A hedgehog whose prickles come out all over and she rolls into a ball’ with embarrassment when guys talk to her, yet on stage she has the confidence of kick-boxer on speed. So strange, yet so normal I suppose.
I did a gig in London last week, after I came off people chatted to me and I get ever so uncomfortable with strangers especially after I come off stage, this one woman tried to talk to me and I mumbled something and she then said loudly “You are so rude, I was telling you how good you were and you just ignore me, you are a pompous bitch stuck up your own ass”
I was horrified and tried to explain that I am shy with complete strangers but as there was no where else to go I was thrust into the audience and had to talk to people. I would rather meet them outside comedy and then I can chat ok, its hard to explain but I must come across as really off - hand and difficult or a real prima donna, which I am not. I can talk for Britain, but not with audience members after a gig for some odd reason.
In suppose I don’t really have confidence at all, all I have is a stage persona that’s bigger and more confident than my own personality.
I am sorry this blog is a day behind but I have been so lazy. Thanks all
Saturday, April 22, 2006
I am going home tomorrow
Yes I am…I cannot wait either. I have missed Ashley’s birthday and my husbands cooking…and love -I suppose. I had a good gig last night, Jongleurs went well, Bristol is nice and I got some nice comments from people who have lived in Bristol telling me interesting places to visit when I am here so thanks all!
I listened to ONE WORD radio show this morning, I was on talking about ‘My Life in Books’ it really was good fun and I love doing radio shows, well I do have the face for it.
On another subject I am losing weight steadily now and I need to go buy jeans today as I can no longer hold these one up, the ass part is falling down and I look like one of those wee black gangsta’ rap kids showing off my knickers except I am 45 and my lacy black ladies knickers are ludicrous being on display!
I got a lovely write up in the METRO Bristol, am looking forward to coming back here, but will certainly move to another hotel.
My stress levels are down as my posters and ad for Fringe have beaten the deadline, I just have the Square Street poster to design and that’s almost done. Square Street is the sketch show Ashley and I are doing together, I think a mother/daughter sketch show will be fun at the Fringe and I am so excited.
Ashley performed at the Fringe in her own comedy show in 1999 when she was 13-years-old; she was in fact the youngest EVER to have her own show in the history of the Fringe!
Now she is going back a woman, fully grown and ready to have fun.
I cannot wait….
I listened to ONE WORD radio show this morning, I was on talking about ‘My Life in Books’ it really was good fun and I love doing radio shows, well I do have the face for it.
On another subject I am losing weight steadily now and I need to go buy jeans today as I can no longer hold these one up, the ass part is falling down and I look like one of those wee black gangsta’ rap kids showing off my knickers except I am 45 and my lacy black ladies knickers are ludicrous being on display!
I got a lovely write up in the METRO Bristol, am looking forward to coming back here, but will certainly move to another hotel.
My stress levels are down as my posters and ad for Fringe have beaten the deadline, I just have the Square Street poster to design and that’s almost done. Square Street is the sketch show Ashley and I are doing together, I think a mother/daughter sketch show will be fun at the Fringe and I am so excited.
Ashley performed at the Fringe in her own comedy show in 1999 when she was 13-years-old; she was in fact the youngest EVER to have her own show in the history of the Fringe!
Now she is going back a woman, fully grown and ready to have fun.
I cannot wait….
Friday, April 21, 2006
Bristol is awesome…but….
The architecture here in Bristol is absolutely breath taking and I said so to the driver who was taking me to the BBC this morning for a radio interview, after a sleepless night of which I will tell you later, I was gazing at the most stunning tall houses, with ornate balconies and intricate stone gargoyles and the driver told me that whole city was built on the ‘Slave Trade’ money of past centuries! There was even ‘White Lady Street’!
So maybe I was apprehensive about staring at them now and enjoying them as I imagined all those poor African’s being dragged from their beautiful sun kissed lands and being sold to build White Lady Street.
How awful?
I suppose that’s the Empire for you, the sun may never have set on the Empire but the shame did.
So to tell you more about last night, I got a call from husband telling me there was an important email from NZ and so I grabbed my laptop and headed off into the night streets of Bristol trying to find any where that had WI/FI, but there was literally no place to be found, honestly, I was walking about the wee winding streets clutching a silver laptop waiting to be mugged!
I was so fucked off and angry I stomped back to the smelly room and tried to sleep.
Which brings me neatly to the sleepless night, I hear you thinking…Oh no Janey not a nightmare story…No... It was noise, fucking irrepressible noise that did it. Firstly, the hotel walls are made of papier-mâché, the room smells like old ladies pants and the room overlooks a city street, never mind that the room is also so small it would make Ann Franks house look like a Palace.
Then to top it all at 5am a shop alarm went off, I lay there silently hoping I could turn into our Scottish Lord Watson and just set fire to the place. (Lord Watson is a Scottish MP who is in prison for wilfully setting fire to hotel curtains, maybe he was pissed off it had no broadband and was noisy?).
Then I finally fell back asleep only to hear a pecking noise at the window, I got out of bed and there in the sunny day break was a smelly arrogant pigeon pecking at my window! Who the fuck lived here before? Mary Poppins?
I opened the window… (As if it would actually tell me what it wanted, I looked at it with anticipation). It simply cocked its bird flu head and flew off…even the pigeons are here to irritate me!
Today I wandered the city, which honestly is really beautiful and so trendy YET no one had wi/fi…I was beginning to feel that anger creeping back into my blood stream, even the BIG internet centre had no wireless connection!
I finally gave up and felt so low and desperately frayed, then I spotted a guy in a café with his laptop, I rushed to him excited the way Dr Watson must have greeted David Livingstone in the dark jungle and blurted out “Do you know where I can get wireless connection? Do you get it here?”
He told me there was a great place called the Watershed down on the water front that does woderful food and free wireless….so here I am and they DO!
I love this place….still hate the slave thing but I love the watershed in Bristol.
So maybe I was apprehensive about staring at them now and enjoying them as I imagined all those poor African’s being dragged from their beautiful sun kissed lands and being sold to build White Lady Street.
How awful?
I suppose that’s the Empire for you, the sun may never have set on the Empire but the shame did.
So to tell you more about last night, I got a call from husband telling me there was an important email from NZ and so I grabbed my laptop and headed off into the night streets of Bristol trying to find any where that had WI/FI, but there was literally no place to be found, honestly, I was walking about the wee winding streets clutching a silver laptop waiting to be mugged!
I was so fucked off and angry I stomped back to the smelly room and tried to sleep.
Which brings me neatly to the sleepless night, I hear you thinking…Oh no Janey not a nightmare story…No... It was noise, fucking irrepressible noise that did it. Firstly, the hotel walls are made of papier-mâché, the room smells like old ladies pants and the room overlooks a city street, never mind that the room is also so small it would make Ann Franks house look like a Palace.
Then to top it all at 5am a shop alarm went off, I lay there silently hoping I could turn into our Scottish Lord Watson and just set fire to the place. (Lord Watson is a Scottish MP who is in prison for wilfully setting fire to hotel curtains, maybe he was pissed off it had no broadband and was noisy?).
Then I finally fell back asleep only to hear a pecking noise at the window, I got out of bed and there in the sunny day break was a smelly arrogant pigeon pecking at my window! Who the fuck lived here before? Mary Poppins?
I opened the window… (As if it would actually tell me what it wanted, I looked at it with anticipation). It simply cocked its bird flu head and flew off…even the pigeons are here to irritate me!
Today I wandered the city, which honestly is really beautiful and so trendy YET no one had wi/fi…I was beginning to feel that anger creeping back into my blood stream, even the BIG internet centre had no wireless connection!
I finally gave up and felt so low and desperately frayed, then I spotted a guy in a café with his laptop, I rushed to him excited the way Dr Watson must have greeted David Livingstone in the dark jungle and blurted out “Do you know where I can get wireless connection? Do you get it here?”
He told me there was a great place called the Watershed down on the water front that does woderful food and free wireless….so here I am and they DO!
I love this place….still hate the slave thing but I love the watershed in Bristol.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Leaving London and Edinburgh Fringe Deadline
I was out a bit too late last night. I was celebrating Brendon Burns’ birthday; the lovely and lively Aussie comic has the same birthday as my sparky daughter. Brendon is a good mate and he had a good old bunch of mates in the rib joint in Soho last night, sitting around enjoying his company. I ate so much meat I almost had a heart attack.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement, this morning as I headed with luggage and belongings to the NZ High Commission to get my work permit that I forgot to get before I leave London (I am old and very forgetful), I passed three Arab looking dressed men outside a café and as I lugged my huge case along the streets of London, they smiled and muttered something to me.
Stupidly and I mean Fucking stupidly I stopped and asked him what he said as I thought it was rude of me to ignore what the man in the white robe said to me.
His dark eyes flashed, he rubbed his moustache and smiled then said “My friend wants to finger you”.
I stood there for a second, all hot harassed and sweaty and looked at him, they all laughed and hissed at me!
I let my case rest on my leg as I put up one finger and replied
“You mean finger me the way your mother fingers Allah?”
That wasn’t what he expected back I suppose, but then he never considered checking who he was insulting…certainly never anticipated an angry tired Scottish shouty woman who laughed loudly at her own retort!
The three men shouted and caused a big situation; one stood up and screamed at me as I was getting my case into roller mode to walk away
“You must never take Allah’s name in vain, how dare you!”
“Well mate you insult me, I insult your God, trust me I do it with Catholics, Jews, in fact any religion…I am not fussed, you annoy me I hurt you back, I am Scottish that’s what I do, now get fucked and take your big misogynist face out of my way or I will tell you how I think Allah is gay”
I left them shouting at me as I laughed loudly all the way to the NZ High Commission building to plead quick passage to my favourite country in May.
I got on the train to Bristol, it’s about two hours away from London, I am here for three nights working at Jongleurs Comedy Club. The four star Thistle Hotel in Bristol does not have broadband internet! I have to dial up some shitty number and pay something like a pound a minute for internet! How shit is that? I am so fucking sick of big hotels that charge expensive rates for shit landline charges on the web! I mean their internet is more expensive than a flight to LA fist class pound for pound!
I hate that, when are big hotels going to suss that business people will start leaving their hotels in search of some places where they can access the web?
So here I am three days away from home, I cannot wait to get there and thank husband for driving all the way to Edinburgh and hand delivering my adverts safely to the Fringe Brochure people to beat the deadline tomorrow night. Thanks big guy…I love you.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement, this morning as I headed with luggage and belongings to the NZ High Commission to get my work permit that I forgot to get before I leave London (I am old and very forgetful), I passed three Arab looking dressed men outside a café and as I lugged my huge case along the streets of London, they smiled and muttered something to me.
Stupidly and I mean Fucking stupidly I stopped and asked him what he said as I thought it was rude of me to ignore what the man in the white robe said to me.
His dark eyes flashed, he rubbed his moustache and smiled then said “My friend wants to finger you”.
I stood there for a second, all hot harassed and sweaty and looked at him, they all laughed and hissed at me!
I let my case rest on my leg as I put up one finger and replied
“You mean finger me the way your mother fingers Allah?”
That wasn’t what he expected back I suppose, but then he never considered checking who he was insulting…certainly never anticipated an angry tired Scottish shouty woman who laughed loudly at her own retort!
The three men shouted and caused a big situation; one stood up and screamed at me as I was getting my case into roller mode to walk away
“You must never take Allah’s name in vain, how dare you!”
“Well mate you insult me, I insult your God, trust me I do it with Catholics, Jews, in fact any religion…I am not fussed, you annoy me I hurt you back, I am Scottish that’s what I do, now get fucked and take your big misogynist face out of my way or I will tell you how I think Allah is gay”
I left them shouting at me as I laughed loudly all the way to the NZ High Commission building to plead quick passage to my favourite country in May.
I got on the train to Bristol, it’s about two hours away from London, I am here for three nights working at Jongleurs Comedy Club. The four star Thistle Hotel in Bristol does not have broadband internet! I have to dial up some shitty number and pay something like a pound a minute for internet! How shit is that? I am so fucking sick of big hotels that charge expensive rates for shit landline charges on the web! I mean their internet is more expensive than a flight to LA fist class pound for pound!
I hate that, when are big hotels going to suss that business people will start leaving their hotels in search of some places where they can access the web?
So here I am three days away from home, I cannot wait to get there and thank husband for driving all the way to Edinburgh and hand delivering my adverts safely to the Fringe Brochure people to beat the deadline tomorrow night. Thanks big guy…I love you.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
London, Gigs and period pains
The gigs have been great fun, I really enjoyed the radio show on BBC Radio 4 Loose Ends, Ned is a great entertainer and it’s awesome to learn from someone so experienced. I have still not got the adverts finalised for the fringe brochure as I am still waiting on a time confirmation from one venue, hopefully they will tell me tomorrow as the deadline is Friday!
Last night I did a storytelling gig with Noel Faulkner, he owns the Comedy Café over in London’s East End. Noel is a great raconteur and fabulous storyteller, check out his show on May 8th and 9th at Comedy Café.
I went along to One Word radio studio’s to record a show that goes out this Saturday; I was talking about my five fav books.
1- The Shipping News
2-Candide
3-The Family at One End Street
4- Behind the Scenes at the Museum
5-Madame Bovary
So today I woke up and have a womb like a cluster bomb. It has imploded and I feel as though two rabid Alsatian dogs were ripping apart my fallopian tubes as a small angry clown banged on my ovaries with a claw hammer.
I love being a woman.
I am off to Bristol on Thursday, so I have two more nights here in lovely Westminster.
I am going to miss my beautiful daughters 20th Birthday tomorrow, I am in London and she is in Glasgow. This will be the first birthday I have ever missed and it hurts.
Can you believe she is 20? I cant it felt like only yesterday she was two and was playing with a wee plastic horse. Where did it all go? I was married at her age and running a bar in Glasgow’s East End, she has her whole life to go places and have fun.
I won’t die on her like my mammy died on me, I will be there to see it all and will always be on hand to help.
I am lucky; you should see what I made 20 years ago! She’s tall, intelligent, talented and very pretty and won’t get married by mistake, won’t give up her dreams to run a bar, won’t accept second best in life and will always be my wee baby.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHLEY
Last night I did a storytelling gig with Noel Faulkner, he owns the Comedy Café over in London’s East End. Noel is a great raconteur and fabulous storyteller, check out his show on May 8th and 9th at Comedy Café.
I went along to One Word radio studio’s to record a show that goes out this Saturday; I was talking about my five fav books.
1- The Shipping News
2-Candide
3-The Family at One End Street
4- Behind the Scenes at the Museum
5-Madame Bovary
So today I woke up and have a womb like a cluster bomb. It has imploded and I feel as though two rabid Alsatian dogs were ripping apart my fallopian tubes as a small angry clown banged on my ovaries with a claw hammer.
I love being a woman.
I am off to Bristol on Thursday, so I have two more nights here in lovely Westminster.
I am going to miss my beautiful daughters 20th Birthday tomorrow, I am in London and she is in Glasgow. This will be the first birthday I have ever missed and it hurts.
Can you believe she is 20? I cant it felt like only yesterday she was two and was playing with a wee plastic horse. Where did it all go? I was married at her age and running a bar in Glasgow’s East End, she has her whole life to go places and have fun.
I won’t die on her like my mammy died on me, I will be there to see it all and will always be on hand to help.
I am lucky; you should see what I made 20 years ago! She’s tall, intelligent, talented and very pretty and won’t get married by mistake, won’t give up her dreams to run a bar, won’t accept second best in life and will always be my wee baby.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHLEY
Monday, April 17, 2006
Memories!
It was 27 years ago today that my husband aged 16 years old, proposed to me and we got engaged. That was 1979, it was a beautiful sunny spring day, we sat round the back of his dad’s pub in Shettleston near where I lived and he pulled out a small brown box from his trouser pocket. I jumped off the silver beer barrels where I had been sitting and opened it up to look at my very first diamond.
It was a simple diamond solitaire ring set in 18 carat gold. I was so chuffed and happy I thought I would burst with happiness. I kissed him, slipped it on my wee grubby finger and ran all the way home to show my mum.
I met her standing at the bottom of our street, she was waiting on Peter (the boyfriend she had who eventually killed her in 1982).
“Look mum what my boyfriend gave me, we are engaged” I blurted out as I put my finger up to her face.
“That’s a lovely ring Janey, I wish you health to wear it” She smiled. Her face looked distant I remember and could see she was distracted and worried about something.
“You ok Ma?” I asked her.
She smiled and told me she was fine, just need some money for fags and Peter was coming along soon and I could show him my new ring as well she added.
“No, I don’t want to Ma, I really don’t like him” I said.
“Janey, don’t start this again, he is really ok and you cause trouble when you argue with him, if you cant keep your mouth shut go away and I will see you later then” She snapped.
I walked away, felt the ring on my finger inside my jeans pocket and wandered up to my house. I sat in the dirty old room I lived in, wondered if my life would always be like this, waiting for something to happen or would I end up like my mammy, aged 45 and dating a violent man who gets you fags.
I couldn’t have ever imagined my life where it is now, I could never have sat in the filthy house in Shettleston back in 1979 and foresaw that I would be 45 years old and sitting in Westminster in a smart apartment that overlooked Big Ben and was working as a stand up comic and writer.
All those years ago when husband and I were teenagers, that night in 1979 when we lay in is big bedroom in his dad’s house, we both wondered if we would last forever.
“Will you always love me like this? Will this feeling always be here?” he asked me.
“Yes, I will, I cant imagine not loving you nor ever wanting to be somewhere you weren’t, lets never fight and lets never ever spend a night apart!” I naively but happily suggested.
Twenty seven years on, we have spent many nights apart, we have spent many days wanting to be where the other wasn’t we have screamed our hate and vile threats into each others face….but this morning he rang me sleepily and before I could speak he said “Will you always love me like this? Will this feeling always be here?” I could not believe he remembered, but he did and he sounded like the sixteen year old boy whose skinny arms and long legs used to wrap round me and hold me till my limbs got pins and needles.
I miss him today and I miss my mammy, she never got to see my daughter who will turn twenty in two days time.
It was a simple diamond solitaire ring set in 18 carat gold. I was so chuffed and happy I thought I would burst with happiness. I kissed him, slipped it on my wee grubby finger and ran all the way home to show my mum.
I met her standing at the bottom of our street, she was waiting on Peter (the boyfriend she had who eventually killed her in 1982).
“Look mum what my boyfriend gave me, we are engaged” I blurted out as I put my finger up to her face.
“That’s a lovely ring Janey, I wish you health to wear it” She smiled. Her face looked distant I remember and could see she was distracted and worried about something.
“You ok Ma?” I asked her.
She smiled and told me she was fine, just need some money for fags and Peter was coming along soon and I could show him my new ring as well she added.
“No, I don’t want to Ma, I really don’t like him” I said.
“Janey, don’t start this again, he is really ok and you cause trouble when you argue with him, if you cant keep your mouth shut go away and I will see you later then” She snapped.
I walked away, felt the ring on my finger inside my jeans pocket and wandered up to my house. I sat in the dirty old room I lived in, wondered if my life would always be like this, waiting for something to happen or would I end up like my mammy, aged 45 and dating a violent man who gets you fags.
I couldn’t have ever imagined my life where it is now, I could never have sat in the filthy house in Shettleston back in 1979 and foresaw that I would be 45 years old and sitting in Westminster in a smart apartment that overlooked Big Ben and was working as a stand up comic and writer.
All those years ago when husband and I were teenagers, that night in 1979 when we lay in is big bedroom in his dad’s house, we both wondered if we would last forever.
“Will you always love me like this? Will this feeling always be here?” he asked me.
“Yes, I will, I cant imagine not loving you nor ever wanting to be somewhere you weren’t, lets never fight and lets never ever spend a night apart!” I naively but happily suggested.
Twenty seven years on, we have spent many nights apart, we have spent many days wanting to be where the other wasn’t we have screamed our hate and vile threats into each others face….but this morning he rang me sleepily and before I could speak he said “Will you always love me like this? Will this feeling always be here?” I could not believe he remembered, but he did and he sounded like the sixteen year old boy whose skinny arms and long legs used to wrap round me and hold me till my limbs got pins and needles.
I miss him today and I miss my mammy, she never got to see my daughter who will turn twenty in two days time.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
London and Life…
Well the flight was fine, I am in London and all is well. Am staying at the lovely apartments down in Westminster thanks to Crown Lawn who always look after me!
I have managed not to call husband and fight with him, we have put our ‘Celebrity Death Squabble’ on hold as I try to get everything organised for the Edinburgh fringe, and then we will continue the fight. I am just too busy to argue with the bastard just now, maybe later. He really needs a toffee hammer in his eye when he gets like this.
Last night I went to the Beauberry Restaurant over in West Dulwich, my old mate Ibi owns it. You really need to see this place to appreciate the architecture. It’s an amazing old building that used to be a stately home. The outside is totally white and over looks a beautiful park at the back terrace. The interior was so sharp and classy with cutting edge dynamic design (I think I could be a restaurant critic eh?)
The chairs in the main dining room are the brightest most startling orange you can imagine and they are flocked (fuzzy covered fine texture) this is set against the cool whites of the walls!
Ibi and I had dinner together, it was lovely to see him and eating with the owner in any fancy restaurant is always a delight!
Ibi picked the ‘black cod’ for me. Apparently this is the signature dish that made Nobu restaurant famous.
The fish lives under thick ice and has no fat or thick skin. It is marinated for three days and then roasted….it was heavenly. I cannot tell you how delicious that fish was, and washed down with expensive champagne…I was in heaven.
Ibi and I chatted about old times, I knew him ten years ago when he worked alongside an old mate of mine.
The restaurant really is of the highest standard, I cannot wait to go back there, it has two other bars and upstairs has two separate rooms, one which I may be organising comedy for in late 2006. How exciting! Comedy and good fish!
So today I went to BBC to record the radio show ‘Loose Ends’ I was interviewing TV presenter Ashley Hames about his new TV show on Bravo called Mans World.
The show takes him all over the world as he takes part in some of the most dangerous jobs on the planet including Narcotics Police patrol in Colombia and Tree felling with the Heli loggers in Canada.
He was a really funny and interesting guy, the show is truly fucking funny and addictive so go check it out on Bravo UK. My daughter is a big fan of his and was chuffed that I had chatted to him.
So here I am sitting in on a Saturday night getting ready to go out, trying hard not to admit my eyesight is fucked. I was in the shower and tried to read the back of a shampoo bottle, but I just couldn’t make the words out, I concluded it must be the stuff in my eyes, but when I got out of the shower I tried to read it again and ……there is no chance my eyes can make out the words so I am old and that’s the end of that.
I am off to get knitting patterns and collect pictures of kittens.
I have managed not to call husband and fight with him, we have put our ‘Celebrity Death Squabble’ on hold as I try to get everything organised for the Edinburgh fringe, and then we will continue the fight. I am just too busy to argue with the bastard just now, maybe later. He really needs a toffee hammer in his eye when he gets like this.
Last night I went to the Beauberry Restaurant over in West Dulwich, my old mate Ibi owns it. You really need to see this place to appreciate the architecture. It’s an amazing old building that used to be a stately home. The outside is totally white and over looks a beautiful park at the back terrace. The interior was so sharp and classy with cutting edge dynamic design (I think I could be a restaurant critic eh?)
The chairs in the main dining room are the brightest most startling orange you can imagine and they are flocked (fuzzy covered fine texture) this is set against the cool whites of the walls!
Ibi and I had dinner together, it was lovely to see him and eating with the owner in any fancy restaurant is always a delight!
Ibi picked the ‘black cod’ for me. Apparently this is the signature dish that made Nobu restaurant famous.
The fish lives under thick ice and has no fat or thick skin. It is marinated for three days and then roasted….it was heavenly. I cannot tell you how delicious that fish was, and washed down with expensive champagne…I was in heaven.
Ibi and I chatted about old times, I knew him ten years ago when he worked alongside an old mate of mine.
The restaurant really is of the highest standard, I cannot wait to go back there, it has two other bars and upstairs has two separate rooms, one which I may be organising comedy for in late 2006. How exciting! Comedy and good fish!
So today I went to BBC to record the radio show ‘Loose Ends’ I was interviewing TV presenter Ashley Hames about his new TV show on Bravo called Mans World.
The show takes him all over the world as he takes part in some of the most dangerous jobs on the planet including Narcotics Police patrol in Colombia and Tree felling with the Heli loggers in Canada.
He was a really funny and interesting guy, the show is truly fucking funny and addictive so go check it out on Bravo UK. My daughter is a big fan of his and was chuffed that I had chatted to him.
So here I am sitting in on a Saturday night getting ready to go out, trying hard not to admit my eyesight is fucked. I was in the shower and tried to read the back of a shampoo bottle, but I just couldn’t make the words out, I concluded it must be the stuff in my eyes, but when I got out of the shower I tried to read it again and ……there is no chance my eyes can make out the words so I am old and that’s the end of that.
I am off to get knitting patterns and collect pictures of kittens.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Stress and Screaming loudly…
Standing in the street screaming into your mobile and swearing so loudly in front of small children isn’t how I saw my life to be perfectly frank.
Older people looked at me with disgust…and so they fucking should. I looked like a scary woman who has managed to convince psychologists to let her out of the psyche ward, yet still had the urge to kill on release.
I will tell you why I am so fucked up and stressed, the original designer of my posters was so inept at Photoshop I had to sit with him and talk him through it step by step, this is fine I hear you say but he was charging me £200 to design my stuff and he wasn’t actually a designer.
So I then had to take my ideas for my two main advert/posters that are going into the Edinburgh Fringe brochure at a cost of £1,200 a pop ( How fucking expensive is that?)….I need to get it right and meet the deadline which is next week and I wont be in Glasgow to proof it. So it all needs to be done by email and txt messages which make me mental.
So there I was standing in the street screaming into my mobile at some unreasonable person who had decided to change the sizes of the lay out.
I have designed the posters, the one for The Point of Yes (my one woman play about a woman’s choice with heroin) I took a photo of my daughter in the street. She was sitting up against a wall in a dirty jacket, burning what appeared to be heroin in a bent spoon. As I was getting the shot this older man passing by shouted at me “That’s a fucking disgrace taking pictures of that poor drug addict, go away ye dirty bastard”
I tried to explain it was a photo shoot until my daughter shouted “Help, I am a junkie and she keeps taking my photos”
The man chased me half way down the street as Ashley sat there and laughed at me.
So I now have that poster image settled and I am very chuffed with it, I need to get the other three done.
I am off to London in the morning; I have work down there and will be catching up with my best mate Monica who has just moved office to fashionable Chelsea, where she lives. I cannot wait to see it and share her celebration of her company getting bigger and more successful.
You can catch me on BBC radio 4 on Saturday at 6pm on Loose Ends.
I will soon have the posters uploaded onto my website, there is also a new live blog on livedigital go there and check it out.
Older people looked at me with disgust…and so they fucking should. I looked like a scary woman who has managed to convince psychologists to let her out of the psyche ward, yet still had the urge to kill on release.
I will tell you why I am so fucked up and stressed, the original designer of my posters was so inept at Photoshop I had to sit with him and talk him through it step by step, this is fine I hear you say but he was charging me £200 to design my stuff and he wasn’t actually a designer.
So I then had to take my ideas for my two main advert/posters that are going into the Edinburgh Fringe brochure at a cost of £1,200 a pop ( How fucking expensive is that?)….I need to get it right and meet the deadline which is next week and I wont be in Glasgow to proof it. So it all needs to be done by email and txt messages which make me mental.
So there I was standing in the street screaming into my mobile at some unreasonable person who had decided to change the sizes of the lay out.
I have designed the posters, the one for The Point of Yes (my one woman play about a woman’s choice with heroin) I took a photo of my daughter in the street. She was sitting up against a wall in a dirty jacket, burning what appeared to be heroin in a bent spoon. As I was getting the shot this older man passing by shouted at me “That’s a fucking disgrace taking pictures of that poor drug addict, go away ye dirty bastard”
I tried to explain it was a photo shoot until my daughter shouted “Help, I am a junkie and she keeps taking my photos”
The man chased me half way down the street as Ashley sat there and laughed at me.
So I now have that poster image settled and I am very chuffed with it, I need to get the other three done.
I am off to London in the morning; I have work down there and will be catching up with my best mate Monica who has just moved office to fashionable Chelsea, where she lives. I cannot wait to see it and share her celebration of her company getting bigger and more successful.
You can catch me on BBC radio 4 on Saturday at 6pm on Loose Ends.
I will soon have the posters uploaded onto my website, there is also a new live blog on livedigital go there and check it out.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Well I knew that wouldn’t last…
As always my husband who has been nice and speaking lovely to me for days, turned into a snarling fucking evil nasty bastard. He annoyed me, shouted at Ashley and I in turn verbally attacked him.
I stood in the hall and dragged up five things he did in 1986 and two fucked up verbal attacks he hit me with in 1979…he tried to answer but just stood there mumbling. As always I won, he can’t recall anything I said yesterday, so he cannot even begin to shout back any reiteration.
I then realised I had stuff to do so in the middle of the argument I screamed “Look, you cunt I am too busy to fight, here is the abbreviated version of what I would have said, if I had fucking an hour to say it, so here is the short version ‘You are a cunt!”.
This didn’t work, we carried on belittling one another, he was an evil bastard who undermined me since I was 18 years old and he is angry I have a life, I on the other hand am a controlling bitch who remembers every word in the history of the world that anyone ever said, and despises being married to someone who once fucked up years ago….
So after we did this all night, we woke up and carried on again this morning, all through lunch time and right into the afternoon we carried on screaming and crying. Then around 3pm we both looked at each other and he said to me “Are you hungry?”
So we called off the fight to make some lunch, we actually chatted and laughed as we made bread and cheese, as if the two angry fighting people were in another room and we were only shadows of them, we merely inhabited their body when they needed to fight; meanwhile we are buddies who eat together.
How fucked up is that?
So after a while we laughed and made up and finally decided to stop the fight.
That’s what marriage is….a split personality.
I stood in the hall and dragged up five things he did in 1986 and two fucked up verbal attacks he hit me with in 1979…he tried to answer but just stood there mumbling. As always I won, he can’t recall anything I said yesterday, so he cannot even begin to shout back any reiteration.
I then realised I had stuff to do so in the middle of the argument I screamed “Look, you cunt I am too busy to fight, here is the abbreviated version of what I would have said, if I had fucking an hour to say it, so here is the short version ‘You are a cunt!”.
This didn’t work, we carried on belittling one another, he was an evil bastard who undermined me since I was 18 years old and he is angry I have a life, I on the other hand am a controlling bitch who remembers every word in the history of the world that anyone ever said, and despises being married to someone who once fucked up years ago….
So after we did this all night, we woke up and carried on again this morning, all through lunch time and right into the afternoon we carried on screaming and crying. Then around 3pm we both looked at each other and he said to me “Are you hungry?”
So we called off the fight to make some lunch, we actually chatted and laughed as we made bread and cheese, as if the two angry fighting people were in another room and we were only shadows of them, we merely inhabited their body when they needed to fight; meanwhile we are buddies who eat together.
How fucked up is that?
So after a while we laughed and made up and finally decided to stop the fight.
That’s what marriage is….a split personality.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Haircuts and husband being strange…continued…
I woke up this morning with a sore back; husband had been hugging me all night. I thought I was being suffocated, but apparently I was only being ‘loved’. Mmmmmmm….
He is still talking ‘supportive’ and ‘lovely’ its making me freak…I will get to the bottom of this. I will probably open a letter and find out he owes £70,0000 in some gambling debt, or open the cupboard and find a dead woman in there, some woman he has killed in a strange sexual accident…who knows…he must be behaving this weird for some reason other than ‘love’. Who knows?
Meanwhile my hair is horrid and putting up such a fight lately, it had overgrown and became unmanageable so I decided to go to the hair stylist and get a compete overhaul. My hair is so black as I have been dyeing it myself in between salon visits and I have no real idea how to do it properly.
I have realised that it needs to go lighter, but slowly, I can’t really go blonde over night! Well I don’t want to go blonde actually as I have been dark all my life…but as we get older we woman all go blonde eventually!
So there I was sitting in a fancy hair salon in Glasgow’s West End. This was the first time I had been to this hair stylist.
It was very smart and well furnished; the girl who took my coat introduced herself and shook my hand (like I was meeting my bank manager).
Then I met the stylist, who also shook my hand as did the girl who was washing my hair! It was like being at a meet and greet!
The woman who was going to ‘do my hair’ came over, felt a lock of my hair, berated me for dyeing it at home, was disgusted at the amount of ‘colour on colour’ that my hair had been through (like my hair was a child whom I had abused…deliberately), she then got another girl over to mock the dryness and stressed look of my ‘ends’, she then asked me how often I ‘dyed it at home’ (she says this accusingly in the same way a social worker would say “How often do you beat Tommy with a sharp stick?”).
After I confessed to the horrible desperate habit of home dyeing, she then proceeded to give me a menu of what she was going to do to my head, it included ‘foil lights’ a ‘colour bath’ a ‘colour treatment’ and a ‘sharp cut all over’. I nodded and let her get on with it all.
Three hours later I have a shapely well groomed head of dark but with all over highlights- shiny healthy hair. I have promised never to home colour and will make sure I go back every month to get my roots done and a treatment.
She was a professional bully, but fucking good at her job.
On the way out I shook hands with the cleaner; she was surprised, but smiled.
Husband loves my hair, he hugged me when I came home and told me he likes my colour. I want to hit him with a sharp stick, where the man who laughed at my hair cuts and slagged me off for spending so much at a salon?
He is still talking ‘supportive’ and ‘lovely’ its making me freak…I will get to the bottom of this. I will probably open a letter and find out he owes £70,0000 in some gambling debt, or open the cupboard and find a dead woman in there, some woman he has killed in a strange sexual accident…who knows…he must be behaving this weird for some reason other than ‘love’. Who knows?
Meanwhile my hair is horrid and putting up such a fight lately, it had overgrown and became unmanageable so I decided to go to the hair stylist and get a compete overhaul. My hair is so black as I have been dyeing it myself in between salon visits and I have no real idea how to do it properly.
I have realised that it needs to go lighter, but slowly, I can’t really go blonde over night! Well I don’t want to go blonde actually as I have been dark all my life…but as we get older we woman all go blonde eventually!
So there I was sitting in a fancy hair salon in Glasgow’s West End. This was the first time I had been to this hair stylist.
It was very smart and well furnished; the girl who took my coat introduced herself and shook my hand (like I was meeting my bank manager).
Then I met the stylist, who also shook my hand as did the girl who was washing my hair! It was like being at a meet and greet!
The woman who was going to ‘do my hair’ came over, felt a lock of my hair, berated me for dyeing it at home, was disgusted at the amount of ‘colour on colour’ that my hair had been through (like my hair was a child whom I had abused…deliberately), she then got another girl over to mock the dryness and stressed look of my ‘ends’, she then asked me how often I ‘dyed it at home’ (she says this accusingly in the same way a social worker would say “How often do you beat Tommy with a sharp stick?”).
After I confessed to the horrible desperate habit of home dyeing, she then proceeded to give me a menu of what she was going to do to my head, it included ‘foil lights’ a ‘colour bath’ a ‘colour treatment’ and a ‘sharp cut all over’. I nodded and let her get on with it all.
Three hours later I have a shapely well groomed head of dark but with all over highlights- shiny healthy hair. I have promised never to home colour and will make sure I go back every month to get my roots done and a treatment.
She was a professional bully, but fucking good at her job.
On the way out I shook hands with the cleaner; she was surprised, but smiled.
Husband loves my hair, he hugged me when I came home and told me he likes my colour. I want to hit him with a sharp stick, where the man who laughed at my hair cuts and slagged me off for spending so much at a salon?
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Fights and strange language continued…
Since husband has been very nice and accommodating, I have become more uneasy. Is he being nice to left foot me? Am I so far down the line in this relationship that any sign of affection is seen as conflict in disguise, like some hive of killer wasps inside a Trojan horse of hugs?
I arrived home and the whole house had been cleaned from top to bottom. He had cleared out the window ledges, dusted every DVD and washed the windows, he had hoovered the floors and totally revamped the welsh dresser. The house smelled lovely, he smiled and I wanted to poke his eye out.
Husband knows that we trade insults the way small countries traded wheat, its how we worked.
I don’t know his new language nor can I decipher it. He speaks kind words with a concerned face-he asks me how I feel and I want to throw myself out of the top floor window.
He looks at me and tells me he never cared enough for me and he will always be there…I want back the shouty man I know how to work, the shouty man I understand…I know his native tongue and already have the currency.
Who is this alien in my home and bed?
Who is this bloke with therapy speak?
Where is the man who sneers at me and bites back at every word we have exchanged since 1979?
Watch this SPACE….
I arrived home and the whole house had been cleaned from top to bottom. He had cleared out the window ledges, dusted every DVD and washed the windows, he had hoovered the floors and totally revamped the welsh dresser. The house smelled lovely, he smiled and I wanted to poke his eye out.
Husband knows that we trade insults the way small countries traded wheat, its how we worked.
I don’t know his new language nor can I decipher it. He speaks kind words with a concerned face-he asks me how I feel and I want to throw myself out of the top floor window.
He looks at me and tells me he never cared enough for me and he will always be there…I want back the shouty man I know how to work, the shouty man I understand…I know his native tongue and already have the currency.
Who is this alien in my home and bed?
Who is this bloke with therapy speak?
Where is the man who sneers at me and bites back at every word we have exchanged since 1979?
Watch this SPACE….
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Cardiff and no internet...
This city is strange but nice, it has a castle, it has a river, and it has a lovely exhibition centre but no internet. I have walked up and down the streets asking people if there are any internet shops....yet no...So I wander into this really funky organic looking cafe and ask the man if they had internet. He explained that they have wi-fi but alas I didn’t have my pc with me, just then a big guy standing beside me offered to let me use his PC. He was tall, had a pony tail, hippy looking dress sense and a strange accent, so I said "Thanks!".
So I have a new friend, he is a computer expert and is from Bulgaria, he let me sit and write this blog, so therefore he is KING! He explained he doesn't use Windows or anything Microsoft or Apple as he has his own programme, he says those people from Microsoft are the DEVIL and Mac aren’t much better....cool!
I checked into the hotel yesterday really early as my flight from Glasgow was at 9am, so I begged to get into my room early. The girl on reception refused, so I burst into tears!
The hotel is called The Big Sleep which is actually a big fat lie, my room overlooks a railway line and trains go past loudly every fucking ten minutes.
Husband has been annoying, after being married 25 years, we have a code, a language that only we know and we use by noting each others tone and double meaning behind every loaded statement we make to each other. Yet lately he has been really nice and helpful and I meanwhile have been talking in our well honed 'nasty code' and he has never risen to the bait...has he forgot our 'code'?
I can’t have him being nice and saying things like "Janey what is it you really want to say? Are you upset about something?"
So I say "What do you think?" (In code that means yes you cunt I am upset now guess why)
So I am scared he has forgotten how to argue with me....how strange would that be?
Lying in the hotel in Cardiff, trying to work out what way to argue and rile my husband is not a good way to spend the night.
By the way Cardiff Jongleurs has a really echo-y microphone and sound system...so strange but the shows have been cool.
Speak Soon
So I have a new friend, he is a computer expert and is from Bulgaria, he let me sit and write this blog, so therefore he is KING! He explained he doesn't use Windows or anything Microsoft or Apple as he has his own programme, he says those people from Microsoft are the DEVIL and Mac aren’t much better....cool!
I checked into the hotel yesterday really early as my flight from Glasgow was at 9am, so I begged to get into my room early. The girl on reception refused, so I burst into tears!
The hotel is called The Big Sleep which is actually a big fat lie, my room overlooks a railway line and trains go past loudly every fucking ten minutes.
Husband has been annoying, after being married 25 years, we have a code, a language that only we know and we use by noting each others tone and double meaning behind every loaded statement we make to each other. Yet lately he has been really nice and helpful and I meanwhile have been talking in our well honed 'nasty code' and he has never risen to the bait...has he forgot our 'code'?
I can’t have him being nice and saying things like "Janey what is it you really want to say? Are you upset about something?"
So I say "What do you think?" (In code that means yes you cunt I am upset now guess why)
So I am scared he has forgotten how to argue with me....how strange would that be?
Lying in the hotel in Cardiff, trying to work out what way to argue and rile my husband is not a good way to spend the night.
By the way Cardiff Jongleurs has a really echo-y microphone and sound system...so strange but the shows have been cool.
Speak Soon
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Bird flu and comedy…
I was so exhausted this morning; I never really slept last night. I have been worried sick about getting everything done and organised for Edinburgh. Yet it seems the more I stress the less actually gets fucking done!
What is wrong with me? At least I am off the fags and that can only be a good thing but I suspect coming off the nicotine is actually really hard this time.
Ashley is being ‘Hormonal Hannah’ this week, she snaps easily, you mustn’t even look at her the wrong way or you get serious verbal lashings from the prettiest face and loveliest mouth.
So this morning I got up and got ready to go down to Scotstoun where Ashley and I were doing our sketches and having them filmed for a TV company to have a look at. We have never performed them in front of anyone before; this is the first time anyone has seen them live. We were both nervous tired and hormonal.
The problem is Ashley makes me laugh just by one look, honestly she can stand there, lift one eyebrow and I am in stitches laughing my ass off.
We welcomed the guy who was setting up a huge camera and helped the woman unload the big sound stick that was to hover over our heads.
Ashley and I adlibbed a lot of the scenes and we both were scared to look at the people in case no one had smiled, you see we don’t really know if the public will laugh at what we perceive to be funny, but our fears were unfound as the guys were chortling away as the worked around us with the camera and sound equipment.
It gave us both a bit more confidence and Ashley is a great physical actor, her strange walk and mad faces were coming thick and fast, she really does respond to an audience and I cannot wait to go on stage at Edinburgh to do our sketch show.
So bird flu has arrived in Scotland, a swan died of the virulent killer strain and we are now all scared birds are going to fucking kill us!
I saw a dead pigeon today and my heart raced, I had to jump over it as I went to the shops. It made me recall how last year at Edinburgh Festival there were loads of dead birds all around the area we were staying; I thought the local squirrels had hand guns and a vendetta against the grey birds of Edinburgh!
So I have no idea if we are all about to perish, meanwhile I am still laughing at my very funny daughter.
By the way my blog went live again and you can see the latest instalment on
http://livedigital.com/AOrOBgA5Gw/content/138307/
What is wrong with me? At least I am off the fags and that can only be a good thing but I suspect coming off the nicotine is actually really hard this time.
Ashley is being ‘Hormonal Hannah’ this week, she snaps easily, you mustn’t even look at her the wrong way or you get serious verbal lashings from the prettiest face and loveliest mouth.
So this morning I got up and got ready to go down to Scotstoun where Ashley and I were doing our sketches and having them filmed for a TV company to have a look at. We have never performed them in front of anyone before; this is the first time anyone has seen them live. We were both nervous tired and hormonal.
The problem is Ashley makes me laugh just by one look, honestly she can stand there, lift one eyebrow and I am in stitches laughing my ass off.
We welcomed the guy who was setting up a huge camera and helped the woman unload the big sound stick that was to hover over our heads.
Ashley and I adlibbed a lot of the scenes and we both were scared to look at the people in case no one had smiled, you see we don’t really know if the public will laugh at what we perceive to be funny, but our fears were unfound as the guys were chortling away as the worked around us with the camera and sound equipment.
It gave us both a bit more confidence and Ashley is a great physical actor, her strange walk and mad faces were coming thick and fast, she really does respond to an audience and I cannot wait to go on stage at Edinburgh to do our sketch show.
So bird flu has arrived in Scotland, a swan died of the virulent killer strain and we are now all scared birds are going to fucking kill us!
I saw a dead pigeon today and my heart raced, I had to jump over it as I went to the shops. It made me recall how last year at Edinburgh Festival there were loads of dead birds all around the area we were staying; I thought the local squirrels had hand guns and a vendetta against the grey birds of Edinburgh!
So I have no idea if we are all about to perish, meanwhile I am still laughing at my very funny daughter.
By the way my blog went live again and you can see the latest instalment on
http://livedigital.com/AOrOBgA5Gw/content/138307/
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Sex and Pain…again!
Yes who would have thought this subject would come up again, but get this. Stressed out as I am, I finally fell asleep this morning at 4am. I was in one of those deep happy warm sleeps, when I am woke up because my mental husband got out of bed, came back in, saw my ass sticking out of the covers and decided ‘out of the blue’ to smack me really hard! Yes….I was awoken by a random act of violence.
My heart leapt out of my mouth, red rage seethed and I turned round to see him standing there smiling, so I jumped up and punched him right in the abdomen….see I can be sexy too!
I actually wanted to kill him, he was stunned that I was annoyed…why wouldn’t I be? I have just been attacked whilst I was asleep.
“I was trying to be funny and you looked sexy lying there” he gasped in between clutching his winded stomach.
“No, that wasn’t sexy, that was assault, you fucking nutter” I screamed at him rubbing a big red hand print on my fat ass.
So there we have it, I do NOT like sex and pain…finally.
I am still in the process of getting my posters designed and feel that no one actually gets what I am saying; the lady just looks at me as if I am crazy when I describe what I want on the screen. So I guess it’s me that fucked today and not anyone else.
Went out for dinner tonight with Jay, a mate from London, he is in Glasgow as he manages a top comic (He who shall not be named) and we had a good old natter, Jay is solid fun.
I am of to Cardiff this weekend and next week I am in London for six days. I am gigging and working on BBC radio 4 Loose Ends. I can’t wait to get back to London, away from the smacking husband and the stressful posters.
My heart leapt out of my mouth, red rage seethed and I turned round to see him standing there smiling, so I jumped up and punched him right in the abdomen….see I can be sexy too!
I actually wanted to kill him, he was stunned that I was annoyed…why wouldn’t I be? I have just been attacked whilst I was asleep.
“I was trying to be funny and you looked sexy lying there” he gasped in between clutching his winded stomach.
“No, that wasn’t sexy, that was assault, you fucking nutter” I screamed at him rubbing a big red hand print on my fat ass.
So there we have it, I do NOT like sex and pain…finally.
I am still in the process of getting my posters designed and feel that no one actually gets what I am saying; the lady just looks at me as if I am crazy when I describe what I want on the screen. So I guess it’s me that fucked today and not anyone else.
Went out for dinner tonight with Jay, a mate from London, he is in Glasgow as he manages a top comic (He who shall not be named) and we had a good old natter, Jay is solid fun.
I am of to Cardiff this weekend and next week I am in London for six days. I am gigging and working on BBC radio 4 Loose Ends. I can’t wait to get back to London, away from the smacking husband and the stressful posters.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Men who like pain…
I have a man who emails me called Keith who likes pain. I have no problem with this as I don’t know him, and don’t cause him pain…but he wants to be my slave. Now I have considered letting him clean my home and then hitting him with sticks, but I get the feeling sex may be involved.
My daughter Ashley is desperate for him to come here, she says he can clean her awful room and she will kick the shit out of him and she really doesn’t care how sexual that is…he is cleaning her room for free!
I have no idea how people got to associate sex with pain, but I suppose if you were a soldier or a spy it would be a good thing eh? Imagine getting electrodes inserted into your penis, that’s hardly a torture if it’s what turns you on?
I personally hate pain; certainly not anywhere near sex either, if he doesn’t take the weight on his elbows I am in a strop!
So I am now into day three of not smoking and pain is suddenly looking attractive, I mean I could easily punch husband on the head if he irritates me one more time.
I am determined to stay off the fags, as I cannot cope with standing outside smoking…in the cold…trying to have a quick fag? That’s not good.
I am slowly getting together the ideas for our Edinburgh posters, I am stressed out and until they are all approved and sorted I won’t sleep.
It is driving me mad, as I have to get the venue to approve them, then get all the different sizes organised for brochures/flyers/posters and adverts.
I wish I worked in a canning factory now, I wish my life was simple; I went to work, came home and bought pizza. I didn’t have to organise travel, hotels or rehearse shows. But then I suppose I would be boring and Keith the S&M freak wouldn’t send me such scary emails.
My daughter Ashley is desperate for him to come here, she says he can clean her awful room and she will kick the shit out of him and she really doesn’t care how sexual that is…he is cleaning her room for free!
I have no idea how people got to associate sex with pain, but I suppose if you were a soldier or a spy it would be a good thing eh? Imagine getting electrodes inserted into your penis, that’s hardly a torture if it’s what turns you on?
I personally hate pain; certainly not anywhere near sex either, if he doesn’t take the weight on his elbows I am in a strop!
So I am now into day three of not smoking and pain is suddenly looking attractive, I mean I could easily punch husband on the head if he irritates me one more time.
I am determined to stay off the fags, as I cannot cope with standing outside smoking…in the cold…trying to have a quick fag? That’s not good.
I am slowly getting together the ideas for our Edinburgh posters, I am stressed out and until they are all approved and sorted I won’t sleep.
It is driving me mad, as I have to get the venue to approve them, then get all the different sizes organised for brochures/flyers/posters and adverts.
I wish I worked in a canning factory now, I wish my life was simple; I went to work, came home and bought pizza. I didn’t have to organise travel, hotels or rehearse shows. But then I suppose I would be boring and Keith the S&M freak wouldn’t send me such scary emails.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Death Anniversary…
I am looking after my sister’s daughters for two nights, Natalie and Victoria. Today Natalie is seventeen years old. Her birthday is April 1st, which is the same day my mum went missing in 1982. We assume April 1st is also the day my mum died, we don’t know the true date, we can only assume as her killer denied all knowledge of the incident and he himself is now dead.
My mum was a true April fool, believing in a man who had beat her up before and yet she went for a river walk with him that spring night 24 years ago and was found dead floating in the water three days later.
So I put all of that angst aside and took Natalie out for lunch before I got ready to gig at Jongleurs Glasgow tonight.
The gigs are going well and I am surprised how well the audiences are coping with the smoking ban…they did disappear at the break and they all stood outside and had a quick fag before returning to the second half.
When I came home, husband lifted up the back of my hair as he hugged me, he put his nose into the back of my neck and said “You smell really clean!”
I did and it feels great!
My mum was a true April fool, believing in a man who had beat her up before and yet she went for a river walk with him that spring night 24 years ago and was found dead floating in the water three days later.
So I put all of that angst aside and took Natalie out for lunch before I got ready to gig at Jongleurs Glasgow tonight.
The gigs are going well and I am surprised how well the audiences are coping with the smoking ban…they did disappear at the break and they all stood outside and had a quick fag before returning to the second half.
When I came home, husband lifted up the back of my hair as he hugged me, he put his nose into the back of my neck and said “You smell really clean!”
I did and it feels great!
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