There I was dragging my slightly sick ass into town to take back a gift that I bought husband.
Ok…here’s the story…I bought him a fancy silver case that I thought contained a beard trimmer, what it actually contained was a hair dressing set. This I should have known because the cardboard sleeve around the box said “Hair grooming kit” I mistook hair for beard…easy mistake it was the Christmas shopping sweats that made me choose wrongly.
I discarded the cardboard wrapping as husband opened the gift and he ripped it up for recycling (husband is currently obsessed with recycling- I am too and thought I could swap him for Eminem, turns out recycling isn’t swapping…who knew?)
Anyway I took the silver box back to Boots the chemist.
The young assistant with a rash of spots who looked about 17 years old- took one look at the silver box, took in my explanation that I thought it was a beard trimmer; he noticed the cardboard sleeve missing and said loudly “I cannot take it back in this condition”
I said “What condition? Untouched? It’s perfectly unused?”
He said “There was a cardboard sleeve on this and it’s now gone”
I said “Well, now I have two complaints, the woman who sold me this knew I asked for a beard trimmer and she not only sold me the wrong goods, but she screwed me for the cardboard sleeve”
He said “Are you honestly trying to tell me that this box came without a sleeve?”
I said “Yes, (I was lying I couldn’t explain my husbands compulsive recycling habit) Yes It never came with a sleeve, if it did come with a packaged sleeve I would have known it was hair dressing kit and not a beard trimmer, now I am disgusted”
He said “Then how did she scan it into the till as the barcode is on the sleeve?”
He looked smug at his question, he thought he could break me at this point, but he didn’t know I have been questioned under pressure for concealing guns and weapons in my life.
“Well as you know all electrical goods are kept behind the counter in the Braehead store because of the sheer amount of thievery going on and she must have scanned it from the pile she had near her with her scanning gun” I smiled and added
“When did you assume that working for Boots made you Monsieur Piorot, do I look like a 1920s cigarette girl who stabbed someone with an art deco lamp? Just refund the goods, my husband doesn’t have a lot of head hair but has a huge beard, it’s like dating a bloke from ZZ Top, so deal with it”
A man behind me laughed, I laughed but spotty sales boy didn’t.
I then asked for the manager of the store, by this time I was NOT leaving till I got a beard trimmer in return for the silver cased Hair dressing kit I mistakenly bought but refused to accept my guilt in the part.
The young assistant made a phone call to bring down a manager “She is really sarcastic and difficult and I think she is lying” I heard him whisper on the phone to the manager who was now having to brace himself to meet ‘Eva Braun the difficult customer’ (which is a good reference as Braun make shavers).
I stood my ground beside the photo counter, I saw the manager come along the baby bottle aisle ….I made good eye contact and smiled broadly (this always makes them scared, never act agitated it throws them and they don’t know how to deal with a pleasant but forceful customer).
As the boy approached me (he was actually younger looking that the spotty assistant if that was legally possible) “Hello Miss Godley” he spoke.
Shit - how did he know my name? Now I was thrown.
“I saw you last week on stage at Jongleurs- you are very funny, now how can we fix this? I tell you what go and pick a beard trimmer and this will be all sorted” He said with confidence that shook me.
I felt horrible, he knew I was lying, the sales boy knew I was lying, I wanted to die, then I figured that ‘Hey who cares…lets get a beard trimmer for Grizzly Adams’
I am going to be nice to people for the whole of 2007 and not lie anymore to sales assistants….or I am going straight to hell, but at least I get smooth kisses before I go.
Sorry sales boy and assistant manager child …I promise to be good.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Abi at the Nativity….
My wee three year old great- niece Abi went along to watch her big brother Shaun at his school Nativity. Her mum is my niece Ann.
Ann has three kids, Shaun, Abi and Julia.
She recently got married to the father of Julia but has two different fathers to Shaun and Abi.
Her husband is a wonderful step dad to the kids and they make a lovely wee family and I am so proud of them all, especially Ann who came through a lot having kids quite young, yet managed to find the right man.
Abi is my favourite funny wee great niece who has more than enough of my DNA to cause trouble daily!
As Shaun stood on stage and sang “Once in Royal David’s city” Abi piped up loudly “Who is David mummy?”
Her mum tried to speak quietly said “Its part of the bible story now be quiet we can talk later” and patted Abi’s wee chubby legs that were covered in bright red tights.
“My daddies name is David, but he isn’t living with us, I have a step dad called Rob” Abi insisted in telling an elderly lady in front of them.
“Mummy why is that child pregnant, you were pregnant last week” Abi loudly announced.
“Abi, I wasn’t pregnant last week, your baby sister is nearly six months old, now shush please” Her mummy got irritated.
“Is she pregnant with baby Jebus?” Abi carried on.
“His name is Jesus” her mum hissed “She is being Mary in the story, remember we told you it?”
“Yes I remember and that man isn’t Jebus’s daddy is he?” Abi yelled now.
“Abi, stop shouting, yes that’s right he is not the father of the baby Jesus” Her mum added through gritted teeth as adults around started giggling.
“Who is Jebus’s daddy then?” Abi now stood up and faced her mum in the church aisle.
“God is Jesus’ daddy; can we talk about this later please? Now sit nice and watch the show” Her mum now exasperated.
“I have a step dad, like Jebus, but who is God then? Where is he up there on the stage mummy?” Abi spoke-now getting louder.
“You don’t get to see God, he doesn’t always turn up now Abi please shush and we can talk later” her mum started to get frantic as people were staring.
“Is he like Shaun’s daddy? Coz he never shows up does he?” Abi nodded her head and shouted to the stage “Shaun… God is like your daddy coz he never shows up when he is s’possed to”
Her mummy then grabbed Abi’s wee fat cheeks and hugged her close to shut her up….how I WISH I had been there when Abi was trying to make sense of God.
I would have cheered her on.
Ann called me to tell me and I couldn’t stop laughing, I wish one of the parents had brought along a video camera and filmed her, how funny would that be on YOUTUBE?
Ann has three kids, Shaun, Abi and Julia.
She recently got married to the father of Julia but has two different fathers to Shaun and Abi.
Her husband is a wonderful step dad to the kids and they make a lovely wee family and I am so proud of them all, especially Ann who came through a lot having kids quite young, yet managed to find the right man.
Abi is my favourite funny wee great niece who has more than enough of my DNA to cause trouble daily!
As Shaun stood on stage and sang “Once in Royal David’s city” Abi piped up loudly “Who is David mummy?”
Her mum tried to speak quietly said “Its part of the bible story now be quiet we can talk later” and patted Abi’s wee chubby legs that were covered in bright red tights.
“My daddies name is David, but he isn’t living with us, I have a step dad called Rob” Abi insisted in telling an elderly lady in front of them.
“Mummy why is that child pregnant, you were pregnant last week” Abi loudly announced.
“Abi, I wasn’t pregnant last week, your baby sister is nearly six months old, now shush please” Her mummy got irritated.
“Is she pregnant with baby Jebus?” Abi carried on.
“His name is Jesus” her mum hissed “She is being Mary in the story, remember we told you it?”
“Yes I remember and that man isn’t Jebus’s daddy is he?” Abi yelled now.
“Abi, stop shouting, yes that’s right he is not the father of the baby Jesus” Her mum added through gritted teeth as adults around started giggling.
“Who is Jebus’s daddy then?” Abi now stood up and faced her mum in the church aisle.
“God is Jesus’ daddy; can we talk about this later please? Now sit nice and watch the show” Her mum now exasperated.
“I have a step dad, like Jebus, but who is God then? Where is he up there on the stage mummy?” Abi spoke-now getting louder.
“You don’t get to see God, he doesn’t always turn up now Abi please shush and we can talk later” her mum started to get frantic as people were staring.
“Is he like Shaun’s daddy? Coz he never shows up does he?” Abi nodded her head and shouted to the stage “Shaun… God is like your daddy coz he never shows up when he is s’possed to”
Her mummy then grabbed Abi’s wee fat cheeks and hugged her close to shut her up….how I WISH I had been there when Abi was trying to make sense of God.
I would have cheered her on.
Ann called me to tell me and I couldn’t stop laughing, I wish one of the parents had brought along a video camera and filmed her, how funny would that be on YOUTUBE?
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Seeing my brother…
I had to go through to Falkirk yesterday to catch up with my lovely brother who not only has HIV, he now has cancer but is fighting it well.
Mij has had various drug issues in his past and this combined with the HIV and cancer would make many a man crumble…NOT my crazy brother he is just so fucking funny and spirited…he called me last week ad actually said “Janey I worry about bird flu”
I laughed out loud and said “Mij, you have had HIV since 1986, you have came through heroin addiction, you have fucking cancer I don’t think a pigeon is going to kill you!”
He has a mad jumpy dog called Cooper whom he loves dearly and it keeps him going.
He lives alone and I worry about him being lonely so I go through to the house that is just an organised tip (but much cleaner in the past year than ever…thank God) and spend the day with him.
I got to Falkirk rail station, popped into the supermarket to pick him up some food and then jumped on a bus to his street. The bus cost £2…that’s outrageous £2 for a single short bus trip? I only get charged a £1 in London I was angry that they charged that amount. The people out there are hardly rich and that’s just mental.
Anyway Mij was waiting at the stop to meet me and Cooper was dragging him all over the pavement barking and jumping, poor Mij loves the dog but the animal is clearly too powerful for him. I love Mij’s funny stories and we stocked up his fridge and sat down for tea. Cooper sat there staring at my sandwich and wined for bit as I ate it all up, then the daft dog decided to try to shag my leg. His big sharp claws gripped my ankle and he humped my calf!
Cooper has really short white and brown hair and looks a bit like a big Jack Russell Dog mixed with a Grey Hound!
“Fucking stop it you mad bastard, Janey is your Auntie” Mij shouted, as if the dog can only hump humans who are not related! I giggled and shoved the excitable animal off me.
I remembered that I had brought the Scotsman newspaper to show him, as I had a big article in the paper that I wrote about heroin and prostitution. He was very impressed and we both chatted about drugs and women who go ‘on the game’ to provide their habit. Mij asked me if he could keep the paper, I agreed and he stuck it on his wall with all the other posters and newspaper clippings. It always feels funny sitting in his living room surrounded by my face in various different shaped and sizes.
Mij and I chatted about his grand kids whom he loves dearly, they live far way and he really misses them. We talked about books we had read and then he spoke about our mum and my book. Now my autobiography really does blow the lid off our family and the sex abuse I suffered from an uncle of ours and it also charts Mij’s demise and his violence towards our mum who died in 1982.
He has NEVER spoke about the book and I had no real idea how he felt about it, and he told me he hasn’t read it but got second hand information about it from a mate.
“I feel so guilty and awful about how I treated my mammy Janey, I hit her” he mumbled through tears.
“Yes, I know Mij but she created that relationship with you, she cultivated it and you were a product of her spoiling you as a child, you were the first born and she doted on you. When dad left she became very angry and she somehow enjoyed fighting with you in a strange way” I replied.
“I think what you did was very wrong, you bullied me as well and I know that you loved me, you told me that many times, but I think your depression even back then was clearly apparent, I am not excusing you Mij but there is a bigger picture to this, you never beat her and left her crying, YOU both fought and she took part in that and goaded the fight because she needed somehow to express her shame at dad leaving”
I added and I believe that.
Mij sat there in silence and I believe to this day that kids who hit their parents or physically fight with them are reacting to ‘learned behaviour’.
Mij never did walk in, beat up my terrified mother and make her do stuff against her will, mum and he both scratched, punched and kicked each other, she would run at him and throw things and fight till he reacted and then would sit and cry and hug him. Both of them crying and being sorry to each other. It was very disturbing for me as a kid.
I explained to him that that’s how I wrote about it in the book.
As we sat there in silence I looked down to Cooper who was now lying on his back showing me his white stomach, the pink skin showing through and there crawling up the short white hairs was a FLEA…..I was shocked but immediately reached down and plucked it from his flesh and threw it straight into the gas fire and heard it crack.
Much in the same way my mother used to do when she plucked fleas from my skin as a child.
“What the fuck was that?” Mij screamed.
“A flea, fucking hell Mij Cooper has fleas” I screeched and jumped up scratching my legs.
“He has been staying at my mates house and he has cats, I have to leave him there when I get chemo, they must have given him fleas, I will go get the flea treatment from the bathroom and we will do it to him” Mij jumped up, Cooper barked and we all ran into the bathroom to get the magical flea killer drops.
Cooper sat quietly as we put the drops on him and then both Mij and I started scratching ourselves. Cooper lifted his back leg and scratched his tummy with an awkward claw upwards…it was so funny as the position was so clumsy looking. There we were all three of us clawing away, I scratched Cooper in the places where he can’t reach and he was really loving it, he stood there and let me run the sharp metal brush through his back, if a dog could have smiled then he was doing it!
So I finally made my way home, and Glasgow was very dark when the train pulled into Queen St station.
Husband and I went shopping as soon as I got home and I was exhausted to be honest, but last night as I finally climbed into bed, I recalled that horrid flea and have spent the whole night clawing my flesh and had dreams of being a kid with insects and lice creeping through the folds in my skin at the back of my knees! YUK…
I woke up this morning and had what can only be described as a ‘Rape Shower’ I scrubbed every bit of my skin and stood under a blasting hot shower till in finally felt clean.
Goodness knows if I actually have fleas, I will die if I do!
Mij has had various drug issues in his past and this combined with the HIV and cancer would make many a man crumble…NOT my crazy brother he is just so fucking funny and spirited…he called me last week ad actually said “Janey I worry about bird flu”
I laughed out loud and said “Mij, you have had HIV since 1986, you have came through heroin addiction, you have fucking cancer I don’t think a pigeon is going to kill you!”
He has a mad jumpy dog called Cooper whom he loves dearly and it keeps him going.
He lives alone and I worry about him being lonely so I go through to the house that is just an organised tip (but much cleaner in the past year than ever…thank God) and spend the day with him.
I got to Falkirk rail station, popped into the supermarket to pick him up some food and then jumped on a bus to his street. The bus cost £2…that’s outrageous £2 for a single short bus trip? I only get charged a £1 in London I was angry that they charged that amount. The people out there are hardly rich and that’s just mental.
Anyway Mij was waiting at the stop to meet me and Cooper was dragging him all over the pavement barking and jumping, poor Mij loves the dog but the animal is clearly too powerful for him. I love Mij’s funny stories and we stocked up his fridge and sat down for tea. Cooper sat there staring at my sandwich and wined for bit as I ate it all up, then the daft dog decided to try to shag my leg. His big sharp claws gripped my ankle and he humped my calf!
Cooper has really short white and brown hair and looks a bit like a big Jack Russell Dog mixed with a Grey Hound!
“Fucking stop it you mad bastard, Janey is your Auntie” Mij shouted, as if the dog can only hump humans who are not related! I giggled and shoved the excitable animal off me.
I remembered that I had brought the Scotsman newspaper to show him, as I had a big article in the paper that I wrote about heroin and prostitution. He was very impressed and we both chatted about drugs and women who go ‘on the game’ to provide their habit. Mij asked me if he could keep the paper, I agreed and he stuck it on his wall with all the other posters and newspaper clippings. It always feels funny sitting in his living room surrounded by my face in various different shaped and sizes.
Mij and I chatted about his grand kids whom he loves dearly, they live far way and he really misses them. We talked about books we had read and then he spoke about our mum and my book. Now my autobiography really does blow the lid off our family and the sex abuse I suffered from an uncle of ours and it also charts Mij’s demise and his violence towards our mum who died in 1982.
He has NEVER spoke about the book and I had no real idea how he felt about it, and he told me he hasn’t read it but got second hand information about it from a mate.
“I feel so guilty and awful about how I treated my mammy Janey, I hit her” he mumbled through tears.
“Yes, I know Mij but she created that relationship with you, she cultivated it and you were a product of her spoiling you as a child, you were the first born and she doted on you. When dad left she became very angry and she somehow enjoyed fighting with you in a strange way” I replied.
“I think what you did was very wrong, you bullied me as well and I know that you loved me, you told me that many times, but I think your depression even back then was clearly apparent, I am not excusing you Mij but there is a bigger picture to this, you never beat her and left her crying, YOU both fought and she took part in that and goaded the fight because she needed somehow to express her shame at dad leaving”
I added and I believe that.
Mij sat there in silence and I believe to this day that kids who hit their parents or physically fight with them are reacting to ‘learned behaviour’.
Mij never did walk in, beat up my terrified mother and make her do stuff against her will, mum and he both scratched, punched and kicked each other, she would run at him and throw things and fight till he reacted and then would sit and cry and hug him. Both of them crying and being sorry to each other. It was very disturbing for me as a kid.
I explained to him that that’s how I wrote about it in the book.
As we sat there in silence I looked down to Cooper who was now lying on his back showing me his white stomach, the pink skin showing through and there crawling up the short white hairs was a FLEA…..I was shocked but immediately reached down and plucked it from his flesh and threw it straight into the gas fire and heard it crack.
Much in the same way my mother used to do when she plucked fleas from my skin as a child.
“What the fuck was that?” Mij screamed.
“A flea, fucking hell Mij Cooper has fleas” I screeched and jumped up scratching my legs.
“He has been staying at my mates house and he has cats, I have to leave him there when I get chemo, they must have given him fleas, I will go get the flea treatment from the bathroom and we will do it to him” Mij jumped up, Cooper barked and we all ran into the bathroom to get the magical flea killer drops.
Cooper sat quietly as we put the drops on him and then both Mij and I started scratching ourselves. Cooper lifted his back leg and scratched his tummy with an awkward claw upwards…it was so funny as the position was so clumsy looking. There we were all three of us clawing away, I scratched Cooper in the places where he can’t reach and he was really loving it, he stood there and let me run the sharp metal brush through his back, if a dog could have smiled then he was doing it!
So I finally made my way home, and Glasgow was very dark when the train pulled into Queen St station.
Husband and I went shopping as soon as I got home and I was exhausted to be honest, but last night as I finally climbed into bed, I recalled that horrid flea and have spent the whole night clawing my flesh and had dreams of being a kid with insects and lice creeping through the folds in my skin at the back of my knees! YUK…
I woke up this morning and had what can only be described as a ‘Rape Shower’ I scrubbed every bit of my skin and stood under a blasting hot shower till in finally felt clean.
Goodness knows if I actually have fleas, I will die if I do!
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
What a day!
I met up with an old pal called Big Betty. I knew her from my pub days and she is a right funny character. She asked me all about my work in comedy and loved chatting about my autobiography as she recalled all the incidents in my past.
I decided to open up my laptop and show her some of my sketches, the one she requested is the short film on You Tube of Ashley and I performing the skit about Ashley being ‘Special Needs’ girl.
As we were watching the sketch it slowly dawned on me that she had a Downs Syndrome cousin and I started to feel awfully odd….she simply pursed her lips and looked me in the eye and said
“I really don’t approve of this you know my cousin Sally had special needs, I am offended at this, and she never asked to be born that way”
I paused and replied “Actually Ashley did this sketch because when she went to the local kids club, she always recalled how Sally would beat her up for crayons, Sally was 28 years of age and Ashley was 3 years old, she told me that she always had to take the crap and no one would help her, so she figured that there was comedy in the manipulation that Sally wielded on her”
Big Betty agreed…slightly and smiled through gritted teeth.
The conversation continued and Big Betty decided to tell me how she lives downstairs from “Three Darkies from Nigeria, and that the Paki’s who work with her really smell funny and stink” I gasped at the sheer amount of political incorrectness spilling from her wee funny mouth and shuddered.
“I find that kind of talk offensive, I have a relative who is half Indian and funnily enough he never asked to be born that way either, although he is very happy and we would never change the way he is” I snapped at her.
She burst out laughing as did I and she said “well we are both right, I suppose Sally is retarded and your relative is a Paki”
“Both of us are wrong actually” I said.
I decided to open up my laptop and show her some of my sketches, the one she requested is the short film on You Tube of Ashley and I performing the skit about Ashley being ‘Special Needs’ girl.
As we were watching the sketch it slowly dawned on me that she had a Downs Syndrome cousin and I started to feel awfully odd….she simply pursed her lips and looked me in the eye and said
“I really don’t approve of this you know my cousin Sally had special needs, I am offended at this, and she never asked to be born that way”
I paused and replied “Actually Ashley did this sketch because when she went to the local kids club, she always recalled how Sally would beat her up for crayons, Sally was 28 years of age and Ashley was 3 years old, she told me that she always had to take the crap and no one would help her, so she figured that there was comedy in the manipulation that Sally wielded on her”
Big Betty agreed…slightly and smiled through gritted teeth.
The conversation continued and Big Betty decided to tell me how she lives downstairs from “Three Darkies from Nigeria, and that the Paki’s who work with her really smell funny and stink” I gasped at the sheer amount of political incorrectness spilling from her wee funny mouth and shuddered.
“I find that kind of talk offensive, I have a relative who is half Indian and funnily enough he never asked to be born that way either, although he is very happy and we would never change the way he is” I snapped at her.
She burst out laughing as did I and she said “well we are both right, I suppose Sally is retarded and your relative is a Paki”
“Both of us are wrong actually” I said.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Christmas Shopping is Evil…
I cannot believe that I actually went into town on a fucking Saturday this near to Christmas with a ten year old boy. My nephew Shaun and I had to keep each other company as his mother went for his ‘Santa gifts’.
Shaun explained that he knew Santa wasn’t real and that his mum buys the presents. I smiled and we grabbed each others hand and raced off to the big fancy shop called Fraser’s in Buchanan Street. It has been a department store in Glasgow for a century and the blond sandstone building is architecturally awesome, huge pillars on the inside and out, stone sculptures hanging off the top façade….so wonderful.
We followed the colourful toy floor stickers that trail at the start of the store entrance and headed up the big cherry wooden staircase decked in the most beautiful decorations I have seen this year. Shaun gasped at the hanging toys from the ceiling and raced up the steps till he reached the top TOY department.
He quickly headed for the ‘Boys Toys’ section and I could hear him yell ‘Awesome’ at the top of his voice when he came upon the massive robotic dinosaur that was being demonstrated. We browsed the area and discussed various games and computer stuff that was all out for display. I bought him a small James Bond car with working ejector seat, he was so happy and clutched it to his chest as we made our way out of the store.
Shaun being polite held the massive wooden and glass exit door ajar to let some ladies enter and they all smiled and thanked him, then a lady in a fur coat stropped past him without even a glance or word of thanks as he struggled to keep the heavy door open.
An elderly woman in a formidable looking trench coat and boots barked at the woman who brushed past Shaun and shouted in the posh-est Scottish voice I have ever heard “Excuse me madam, but if you thank children and appreciate them for being polite, it breeds encouragement and praise, your manners are dreadful” The fur lady turned on her heels and looked at the trench-coated lady and then at Shaun.
Shaun stared up at the fur coated lady through his wee spectacles; he smiled at her and the furry woman just walked off in a huge strop.
The elderly lady in the trench coat bent down to Shaun and said “You are a lovely helpful young man and your mother must be proud of you”
Shaun gave her his mega watt smile and turned to me and said in the loudest voice “Aunty Janey, that old posh woman nearly had a punch up with that big fat woman wearing the cat coat”
The elderly lady laughed out loud and walked off waving to Shaun.
I laughed my ass off at the ‘cat coat’ comment and took him to meet his mum.
We then proceeded to battle against the tide of grumpy parcel laden Glaswegians as they too made their way through the busiest city centre shopping day I have seen in years.
People spending millions on presents….its crazy!
I told Shaun how as a kid, we used to get a stocking with a tangerine inside it and a small board game like Ludo or a doll for our Christmas, he was amazed at how little we got. I explained that back in the 1960s we didn’t have that much cash and we just accepted it.
“Aunty Janey, you must miss your mum because she is dead” he said looking at me with those big brown penny eyes he has.
“What made you think about my mum Shaun?” I asked him.
“Well I was imagining you as a wee girl at Christmas and then I pictured your mum talking to you and then I remembered she was dead and I felt sorry about that” he spoke quietly.
I told him how my mum would have loved him; she would have been a wonderful great- grandmother to him had she lived long enough to see him. That only led to more questions about my mothers death and I wasn’t sure if Shaun had been told how she died, my mum was murdered and I didn’t want to have to tell him in case that wasn’t something he was to be told until he was older. It wasn’t really Christmas shopping conversation to be honest.
At that moment his mum arrived on the horizon, she was laden down with giant Santa bags and a huge smile. Thank God- I thought to myself, no more awkward questions from my wee favourite sensitive nephew.
So there we have it, I hate shopping!
Shaun explained that he knew Santa wasn’t real and that his mum buys the presents. I smiled and we grabbed each others hand and raced off to the big fancy shop called Fraser’s in Buchanan Street. It has been a department store in Glasgow for a century and the blond sandstone building is architecturally awesome, huge pillars on the inside and out, stone sculptures hanging off the top façade….so wonderful.
We followed the colourful toy floor stickers that trail at the start of the store entrance and headed up the big cherry wooden staircase decked in the most beautiful decorations I have seen this year. Shaun gasped at the hanging toys from the ceiling and raced up the steps till he reached the top TOY department.
He quickly headed for the ‘Boys Toys’ section and I could hear him yell ‘Awesome’ at the top of his voice when he came upon the massive robotic dinosaur that was being demonstrated. We browsed the area and discussed various games and computer stuff that was all out for display. I bought him a small James Bond car with working ejector seat, he was so happy and clutched it to his chest as we made our way out of the store.
Shaun being polite held the massive wooden and glass exit door ajar to let some ladies enter and they all smiled and thanked him, then a lady in a fur coat stropped past him without even a glance or word of thanks as he struggled to keep the heavy door open.
An elderly woman in a formidable looking trench coat and boots barked at the woman who brushed past Shaun and shouted in the posh-est Scottish voice I have ever heard “Excuse me madam, but if you thank children and appreciate them for being polite, it breeds encouragement and praise, your manners are dreadful” The fur lady turned on her heels and looked at the trench-coated lady and then at Shaun.
Shaun stared up at the fur coated lady through his wee spectacles; he smiled at her and the furry woman just walked off in a huge strop.
The elderly lady in the trench coat bent down to Shaun and said “You are a lovely helpful young man and your mother must be proud of you”
Shaun gave her his mega watt smile and turned to me and said in the loudest voice “Aunty Janey, that old posh woman nearly had a punch up with that big fat woman wearing the cat coat”
The elderly lady laughed out loud and walked off waving to Shaun.
I laughed my ass off at the ‘cat coat’ comment and took him to meet his mum.
We then proceeded to battle against the tide of grumpy parcel laden Glaswegians as they too made their way through the busiest city centre shopping day I have seen in years.
People spending millions on presents….its crazy!
I told Shaun how as a kid, we used to get a stocking with a tangerine inside it and a small board game like Ludo or a doll for our Christmas, he was amazed at how little we got. I explained that back in the 1960s we didn’t have that much cash and we just accepted it.
“Aunty Janey, you must miss your mum because she is dead” he said looking at me with those big brown penny eyes he has.
“What made you think about my mum Shaun?” I asked him.
“Well I was imagining you as a wee girl at Christmas and then I pictured your mum talking to you and then I remembered she was dead and I felt sorry about that” he spoke quietly.
I told him how my mum would have loved him; she would have been a wonderful great- grandmother to him had she lived long enough to see him. That only led to more questions about my mothers death and I wasn’t sure if Shaun had been told how she died, my mum was murdered and I didn’t want to have to tell him in case that wasn’t something he was to be told until he was older. It wasn’t really Christmas shopping conversation to be honest.
At that moment his mum arrived on the horizon, she was laden down with giant Santa bags and a huge smile. Thank God- I thought to myself, no more awkward questions from my wee favourite sensitive nephew.
So there we have it, I hate shopping!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Blood, sex and tears…
Well there was blood, last night as I was compere at Glasgow Jongleurs I decided to leap off the stage as I brought on the first act and promptly crashed to the floor and ripped a big hole in the knee of my tights and blood seeped out of my flesh. The good news is NO ONE saw it as the lights are dark in the corner where I jumped and the act was getting a big applause as he grabbed the mic!
I am such a dick! What made me think I was still 14 years old and can jump like that? My knees recalled youth but my torso reminded them that I was middle aged and buckled in protest!
As if that wasn’t enough drama for one night, here’s more….I was standing at the Dee-jay box chatting to Jay our music man when a tall fat grey haired man approached me “Hey Janey, remember me? You gave me a mention in your autobiography” he boomed at me with open arms.
I gulped quietly and stared at him, I don’t recall this mans face, is he Barra my first boyfriend? Is he one of my husbands family who I haven’t spoke to in years? “I am sorry, I can’t remember you at all” I answered smiling.
“Well, I am the detective that searched you father in laws house the day we found the guns” he laughed and hugged me, as if this was the way you normally greet people who you have jailed in the past.
“Holy Fuck! You are indeed” I still strained to hug the man who changed my life back in 1994.
“Janey, it is so good to see you, I am no longer in the police. I remember talking to you that day about acting and comedy, do you remember?” He asked.
“Yes amongst other stuff that we chatted about that day, like guns and bullets I mean there was so much we said I can hardly recall the idle chit chat” I replied sarcastically but with fond humour.
“Well anyway, you spoke with such passion about how you hated being in the pub business that you wanted to act and write, so it made me think back to my original career choice and soon after we met I left the police and now work as an actor and am involved in music” He beamed at me.
I recalled that man back in 1994; he was the ‘nice’ copper of the two that arrested me after finding a cache of arms in my late Father-in-laws house (The police found more weapons of mass destruction in that house than the US army found in Iraq) Anyway, he was kind to me and I always appreciated that, it was the most terrifying day of my life.
I was worried that I would end up in prison for being in possession of my in-laws weapons and one of that family would be left to raise my child (We all know how that would have turned out! - No University, teen pregnancy and a predilection for fake tan and cheap gold)…so thank god I was out after one night in the cells.
“Janey I am so proud of you, honestly I am, you never belonged with those people and that family were so crooked, that man you married would only have dragged you to the pits of the earth, good for you getting away from them, the bunch of no gooders that they are and making your self successful” he grinned.
“I am still married to him and love that man actually” I spoke with a big smile.
“Fuck I am sorry, he was kind of nice and not like the rest of his brothers” he gasped trying hard to reconcile his statement.
“That’s ok man, I know what you mean” I answered.
We parted and he went off to his table with a big smile to tell his mates who were all watching our meeting.
Life is stranger than fiction, that’s for sure….how nice to meet that guy again and to know he read my book and to accept his congratulations on what he saw as my success…so nice.
I am such a dick! What made me think I was still 14 years old and can jump like that? My knees recalled youth but my torso reminded them that I was middle aged and buckled in protest!
As if that wasn’t enough drama for one night, here’s more….I was standing at the Dee-jay box chatting to Jay our music man when a tall fat grey haired man approached me “Hey Janey, remember me? You gave me a mention in your autobiography” he boomed at me with open arms.
I gulped quietly and stared at him, I don’t recall this mans face, is he Barra my first boyfriend? Is he one of my husbands family who I haven’t spoke to in years? “I am sorry, I can’t remember you at all” I answered smiling.
“Well, I am the detective that searched you father in laws house the day we found the guns” he laughed and hugged me, as if this was the way you normally greet people who you have jailed in the past.
“Holy Fuck! You are indeed” I still strained to hug the man who changed my life back in 1994.
“Janey, it is so good to see you, I am no longer in the police. I remember talking to you that day about acting and comedy, do you remember?” He asked.
“Yes amongst other stuff that we chatted about that day, like guns and bullets I mean there was so much we said I can hardly recall the idle chit chat” I replied sarcastically but with fond humour.
“Well anyway, you spoke with such passion about how you hated being in the pub business that you wanted to act and write, so it made me think back to my original career choice and soon after we met I left the police and now work as an actor and am involved in music” He beamed at me.
I recalled that man back in 1994; he was the ‘nice’ copper of the two that arrested me after finding a cache of arms in my late Father-in-laws house (The police found more weapons of mass destruction in that house than the US army found in Iraq) Anyway, he was kind to me and I always appreciated that, it was the most terrifying day of my life.
I was worried that I would end up in prison for being in possession of my in-laws weapons and one of that family would be left to raise my child (We all know how that would have turned out! - No University, teen pregnancy and a predilection for fake tan and cheap gold)…so thank god I was out after one night in the cells.
“Janey I am so proud of you, honestly I am, you never belonged with those people and that family were so crooked, that man you married would only have dragged you to the pits of the earth, good for you getting away from them, the bunch of no gooders that they are and making your self successful” he grinned.
“I am still married to him and love that man actually” I spoke with a big smile.
“Fuck I am sorry, he was kind of nice and not like the rest of his brothers” he gasped trying hard to reconcile his statement.
“That’s ok man, I know what you mean” I answered.
We parted and he went off to his table with a big smile to tell his mates who were all watching our meeting.
Life is stranger than fiction, that’s for sure….how nice to meet that guy again and to know he read my book and to accept his congratulations on what he saw as my success…so nice.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
My embarrassing Moment with a pop star!
I had a great night in London at the Crown Lawn party; I was so excited to go to a Christmas Lunch with the lovely Angela and her friends. Angela’s business is property and you have no idea how much I appreciate the accommodation she provides me for me in London…..I kid you not Madonna and Tom Cruise would be hard pressed to find anywhere as chic and so beautifully located as the place Angela gets me.
I always feel like a star when I lie in my huge king-size bed in the room with marble under floor heating. I giggle and remind myself how thankful I am as I think back to the times as a child when I lay in my dirty sheets picking fleas off my skin in Glasgow in the 1960s….I would be starving and couldn’t wait to get to school the next day because we got a school lunch, I would get up and my bare feet would cramp on the freezing floor boards and stand in chittering cold bathroom and try to wash with no soap and get dried with a filthy sour smelling towel…..and there I was in a huge en suite bathroom, marble warmed floors, thick white towels, Big Ben chiming dutifully at my bedroom window and winter trees covered in small white lights twinkling in the street.
Can you believe this is my life now? How lucky am I?
Angela not only gives me Celebrity Accommodation she gave me the most fabulous expensive Christmas gifts I have EVER had… I got a Bottega Veneta leather purse (It is very chic, and there was a waiting list for this recently!).
I also got a fur scarf, a set of vintage Lauder perfumes and the most wonderful hand sewn silk Butler and Wilson scarf! How wonderful?
I was gob smacked, I have NEVER had such kindness and cannot thank her enough….and to make it worse, as I didn’t know there would be gift giving, I brought a scented candle…YES a fucking scented candle…I wanted to eat my own womb with embarrassment, but Angela has this amazing knack of making you feel wanted and at ease. I am so grateful to her.
I had to leave the party as I had an early flight this morning. I also had to go to Groucho Club to meet Monica as I had some paper work for her.
I love the Groucho, as I walked in I chatted to my friend Lola who works there and she and I got talking about an event she was at that Roland Gift from Fine Young Cannibals was playing at.
They were my favourite band from the 1980s and I was so in love with Roland Gift the lead singer, I mean I had serious sexual fantasies and a HUGE crush on him….I told Lola this and she was laughing at my descriptions of all the dirty things I wanted to do this talented husky voice sexy man…I did go into minute details.
So I met Monica, we sat and waited in the Groucho reception for a cab and then Lola came over holding the hand of ……Roland Gift saying “ This is Janey, she really has a huge crush on you”
My fantasy sexy singer stood there, staring with incredulity at Lola’s vivid description of my sexual fantasies that involved him, I tried to roll myself up into a small ball and pretend to be a hedgehog, Roland’s sexy eyes bore into mine and he smiled that dirty smile that I had dreamt of, I wanted to die with horror and shame…Monica was pissing herself laughing and Roland took my hand and hugged me tightly and whispered into my red burning embarrassed ear “Thank you, I do like being licked”
I meanwhile gabbled 5000 words a second as Lola stood there, finished her ‘Janey wants to fuck Roland Gift since 1983 announcement’ and smiled, threw out her arms and shouted “ I love making dreams come true”
Roland kissed me, winked and walked off (the poor man had to be nice to this mental exhausted Scottish woman who was lugging a huge Santa bag and had bright red cheeks and who couldn’t make eye contact).
There can be nothing more horrifically awkward than meeting a man you had a huge crush on and someone explaining your sexual fantasies of them TO THEM as you watch on…..I can laugh now, but I actually was going to pretend I had fainted to get out of it all…..poor man!
So all in all I had an eventful night, great gifts and Roland Gift!
Merry Christmas!
I always feel like a star when I lie in my huge king-size bed in the room with marble under floor heating. I giggle and remind myself how thankful I am as I think back to the times as a child when I lay in my dirty sheets picking fleas off my skin in Glasgow in the 1960s….I would be starving and couldn’t wait to get to school the next day because we got a school lunch, I would get up and my bare feet would cramp on the freezing floor boards and stand in chittering cold bathroom and try to wash with no soap and get dried with a filthy sour smelling towel…..and there I was in a huge en suite bathroom, marble warmed floors, thick white towels, Big Ben chiming dutifully at my bedroom window and winter trees covered in small white lights twinkling in the street.
Can you believe this is my life now? How lucky am I?
Angela not only gives me Celebrity Accommodation she gave me the most fabulous expensive Christmas gifts I have EVER had… I got a Bottega Veneta leather purse (It is very chic, and there was a waiting list for this recently!).
I also got a fur scarf, a set of vintage Lauder perfumes and the most wonderful hand sewn silk Butler and Wilson scarf! How wonderful?
I was gob smacked, I have NEVER had such kindness and cannot thank her enough….and to make it worse, as I didn’t know there would be gift giving, I brought a scented candle…YES a fucking scented candle…I wanted to eat my own womb with embarrassment, but Angela has this amazing knack of making you feel wanted and at ease. I am so grateful to her.
I had to leave the party as I had an early flight this morning. I also had to go to Groucho Club to meet Monica as I had some paper work for her.
I love the Groucho, as I walked in I chatted to my friend Lola who works there and she and I got talking about an event she was at that Roland Gift from Fine Young Cannibals was playing at.
They were my favourite band from the 1980s and I was so in love with Roland Gift the lead singer, I mean I had serious sexual fantasies and a HUGE crush on him….I told Lola this and she was laughing at my descriptions of all the dirty things I wanted to do this talented husky voice sexy man…I did go into minute details.
So I met Monica, we sat and waited in the Groucho reception for a cab and then Lola came over holding the hand of ……Roland Gift saying “ This is Janey, she really has a huge crush on you”
My fantasy sexy singer stood there, staring with incredulity at Lola’s vivid description of my sexual fantasies that involved him, I tried to roll myself up into a small ball and pretend to be a hedgehog, Roland’s sexy eyes bore into mine and he smiled that dirty smile that I had dreamt of, I wanted to die with horror and shame…Monica was pissing herself laughing and Roland took my hand and hugged me tightly and whispered into my red burning embarrassed ear “Thank you, I do like being licked”
I meanwhile gabbled 5000 words a second as Lola stood there, finished her ‘Janey wants to fuck Roland Gift since 1983 announcement’ and smiled, threw out her arms and shouted “ I love making dreams come true”
Roland kissed me, winked and walked off (the poor man had to be nice to this mental exhausted Scottish woman who was lugging a huge Santa bag and had bright red cheeks and who couldn’t make eye contact).
There can be nothing more horrifically awkward than meeting a man you had a huge crush on and someone explaining your sexual fantasies of them TO THEM as you watch on…..I can laugh now, but I actually was going to pretend I had fainted to get out of it all…..poor man!
So all in all I had an eventful night, great gifts and Roland Gift!
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
I Love New Zealand…
I got an email from the New Zealand Comedy Guild; they let me know that I have been nominated ‘Best International Guest’ regarding the show I took over there in May this year!
How lovely is that?
I find out who wins the award on 17th December. I am up for the award with tow other international comics.
Now we all know how crap my record is at winning awards, I am always the bridesmaid and never the bride when it comes to any award schemes! But it is amazing to be nominated.
Went into town today to try and find a winter warm coat that doesn’t make me look like a woolly mammoth….you see I am small and when I wear padded heavy coats I look like a fucking wee fat squirrel. So I gave up and decided that the old coat I used to have will have to do.
I fly to London tomorrow; I am so looking forward to having a party with the Crown Lawn crew! They have invited me along to enjoy their festivities with them and I am so touched.
Been getting through my BAFTA screeners, the industry people send me the DVD’s to watch in advance of the BAFTA awards in February and I am loving the task.
I have to say that the best movie I have ever seen is ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ it is just wonderful and so fucking funny, you must go see it. The script is so sharp, the totally character driven screenplay is so awesome it makes the film so damn watch-able and the Grandfather in the film is just the best grandpa you are ever likely to come across in any movie.
So I will be off the laptop for two days as I am not taking it with me to London. See you all soon.
How lovely is that?
I find out who wins the award on 17th December. I am up for the award with tow other international comics.
Now we all know how crap my record is at winning awards, I am always the bridesmaid and never the bride when it comes to any award schemes! But it is amazing to be nominated.
Went into town today to try and find a winter warm coat that doesn’t make me look like a woolly mammoth….you see I am small and when I wear padded heavy coats I look like a fucking wee fat squirrel. So I gave up and decided that the old coat I used to have will have to do.
I fly to London tomorrow; I am so looking forward to having a party with the Crown Lawn crew! They have invited me along to enjoy their festivities with them and I am so touched.
Been getting through my BAFTA screeners, the industry people send me the DVD’s to watch in advance of the BAFTA awards in February and I am loving the task.
I have to say that the best movie I have ever seen is ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ it is just wonderful and so fucking funny, you must go see it. The script is so sharp, the totally character driven screenplay is so awesome it makes the film so damn watch-able and the Grandfather in the film is just the best grandpa you are ever likely to come across in any movie.
So I will be off the laptop for two days as I am not taking it with me to London. See you all soon.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
The Things my Brother told me…
My brother is going through chemotherapy; he is facing up to the illness with amazing bravery. He still makes me laugh as he is as mad as a fucking squirrel on smack.
Mij has had drug problems for most of his life and lives on Methadone which is supposed to help wean him off heroin, who the fuck can wean him off methadone? No-one, is the answer.
My daughter Ashley and I went on the train today to go visit him.
He insisted I shave his entire head, giving him a number 1, by God he has a full thick head of grey-ish hair and it was heavy going. He knows all his hair is going to fall out and wants a head start on it! I felt like I was shaving a Shetland pony!
“Do you have a hoover to get all this hair?” I asked as the buzzing shaver ran through his scalp and thatches of hair dropped to the floor.
“No, see that big crack in the floorboards, just brush it all into that, that is where I brush all the dirt into” he answered me.
“What if rats come and use that hair to build a big nest with?” I suggested.
“Fucking hell, I never thought about that, lets brush it up and throw it outside in the bins” he quickly added.
His flat is less than hygienic to be honest, but he had made a huge effort to clean it for me coming along. His mad jumpy crazy dog Cooper, was trying to shag my leg as I shaved him….I was trying to kick it off and make sure I never cut my brothers head!
So then my brother told me that he had to shake the dog off yesterday as it bit his chemotherapy tubes that hang from a Hickman line in his chest!
“The dog thinks they are clothes pegs and because he goes out the back and jumps up and bites the clothes pegs off the line, he thinks my chemo tubes are for biting every time I bend over and they dangle” he told me.
“Fucking hell, keep them covered, you can’t have your crazy dog biting those tubes out of your flesh” I screamed.
“Yes, I know so that’s why I have clothes pegs in my pocket, it gives him something to chew…. look” he said.
In his hands were a selection of coloured clothes pins and the dog snapped them off him immediately!
He then went onto tell me he was in the street last week and half naked man in bare feet carrying a cup of tea escaped from the local mental hospital approached him and asked my brother if he was in ward 5.
“I told the mad bastard to fuck off; I mean he was the one in bare feet carrying a plastic mug of hot tea in the street, why would he think I was in a mental ward?” My brother gasped.
“I don’t know why he thought that, what were you wearing?” I asked him as I shaved his wee grey head into what can only be described as a ‘rapist’ hairstyle.
“I had on my pyjamas but I had a coat on top and my slippers, but I was only going to the chemist to get my methadone, so I never dress up for that, the pharmacist always laughs at me and we joke about my dress sense” he looked indignant at me.
“Well two men meeting in the cold wearing pyjamas seems sensible to me, God knows why anyone thought either of you belonged in a mental ward beats me” I added sarcastically.
It makes me sad; he lives alone and yet has all these posters and news cuttings of me on his walls. It is so touching, my daughter gulped when she saw them.
Ashley can play guitar and my brother has his guitar in the flat, so she sat with him and played songs and they had a sing-a-long to all his favourite tunes. It was lovely; he cheered her on and was so proud of her guitar playing.
My brother is clearly a funny mad character, he never stops making me laugh, he is very ill and I worry for him. He is lonely and too bloody faraway from me to keep a good eye on, so I can only get through once a week.
I hope he comes through his chemotherapy with the same sense of humour he has now.
Mij has had drug problems for most of his life and lives on Methadone which is supposed to help wean him off heroin, who the fuck can wean him off methadone? No-one, is the answer.
My daughter Ashley and I went on the train today to go visit him.
He insisted I shave his entire head, giving him a number 1, by God he has a full thick head of grey-ish hair and it was heavy going. He knows all his hair is going to fall out and wants a head start on it! I felt like I was shaving a Shetland pony!
“Do you have a hoover to get all this hair?” I asked as the buzzing shaver ran through his scalp and thatches of hair dropped to the floor.
“No, see that big crack in the floorboards, just brush it all into that, that is where I brush all the dirt into” he answered me.
“What if rats come and use that hair to build a big nest with?” I suggested.
“Fucking hell, I never thought about that, lets brush it up and throw it outside in the bins” he quickly added.
His flat is less than hygienic to be honest, but he had made a huge effort to clean it for me coming along. His mad jumpy crazy dog Cooper, was trying to shag my leg as I shaved him….I was trying to kick it off and make sure I never cut my brothers head!
So then my brother told me that he had to shake the dog off yesterday as it bit his chemotherapy tubes that hang from a Hickman line in his chest!
“The dog thinks they are clothes pegs and because he goes out the back and jumps up and bites the clothes pegs off the line, he thinks my chemo tubes are for biting every time I bend over and they dangle” he told me.
“Fucking hell, keep them covered, you can’t have your crazy dog biting those tubes out of your flesh” I screamed.
“Yes, I know so that’s why I have clothes pegs in my pocket, it gives him something to chew…. look” he said.
In his hands were a selection of coloured clothes pins and the dog snapped them off him immediately!
He then went onto tell me he was in the street last week and half naked man in bare feet carrying a cup of tea escaped from the local mental hospital approached him and asked my brother if he was in ward 5.
“I told the mad bastard to fuck off; I mean he was the one in bare feet carrying a plastic mug of hot tea in the street, why would he think I was in a mental ward?” My brother gasped.
“I don’t know why he thought that, what were you wearing?” I asked him as I shaved his wee grey head into what can only be described as a ‘rapist’ hairstyle.
“I had on my pyjamas but I had a coat on top and my slippers, but I was only going to the chemist to get my methadone, so I never dress up for that, the pharmacist always laughs at me and we joke about my dress sense” he looked indignant at me.
“Well two men meeting in the cold wearing pyjamas seems sensible to me, God knows why anyone thought either of you belonged in a mental ward beats me” I added sarcastically.
It makes me sad; he lives alone and yet has all these posters and news cuttings of me on his walls. It is so touching, my daughter gulped when she saw them.
Ashley can play guitar and my brother has his guitar in the flat, so she sat with him and played songs and they had a sing-a-long to all his favourite tunes. It was lovely; he cheered her on and was so proud of her guitar playing.
My brother is clearly a funny mad character, he never stops making me laugh, he is very ill and I worry for him. He is lonely and too bloody faraway from me to keep a good eye on, so I can only get through once a week.
I hope he comes through his chemotherapy with the same sense of humour he has now.
Christmas Card
Have a wonderful Christmas and very prosperous 2007,
From Janey Godley & Daughter Ashley
Sunday, December 03, 2006
My Tree is Up!
I conned husband into dragging the tree up from the downstairs cupboard. I just pushed it onto him, we were passing the cupboard and I said “Can you go in there and pull out my tree and decorations and help me carry them up, I am so small, I can’t lift it” I looked all forlorn and whimsically girlish- well in reality I probably looked like a sad hobbit-like dwarf.
“Ok hold the door and I will get it all out” he answered.
So he carried the two giant boxes up the stairs and let me get on with it.
I managed to rope him in to the tree trimming by saying “Please help me, these branches that need assembled and constructed have tiny wee colour strips to help you sort them out in size and I am colour blind as you know, please help me I love you….” I whined.
My tree is a bunch of green branches that are poked into a solid green stalk that comes in tubes that you slot together, it is difficult to build.
He sat down beside me and my gigantic mound of green plastic branches; he sorted them all out in size, colour code and in order of assembly. He then started putting it all together with me and before you knew it we were trimming a tree! The very tree that he hated and tried to make me give away rather than build for the holiday season.
I finally got it all up and tied on all my lovely sentimental decorations. Husband was fussing and fixing little red velvet bows (this was extremely unusual as husband has a primeval fear of velvet and normally goes foetal rather than touch it) he made such a nice job of the decorations.
I am happy- the tree looks amazing and the room is so seasonal….so nice.
Now all I have to do get husband to share my love of make up, cleansing balms and Donny Osmond.
I then finally sorted out the wee nativity scene, made me think about poor Mary…imagine being pregnant with the Son of God, then being married to a man who never organised the delivery in advance? I mean they had NINE months to get ready for what was going to be the most talked about birth in the history of the WORLD! Yet they left it all to the last minute, then he pulled her onto a fucking asthmatic donkey and dragged her to a town where the whole place was mobbed because of a census….the poor woman must have been dying in pain, knocking on doors begging for a bed in LABOUR!
How she kept her patience and accepted their “Sorry no room luv” I would have clutched my heaving belly and screamed
“For Fucksake, I am squeezing out God’s son here; you must have a fucking floor near a fire and couple of blankets? Help me or I swear I will get the father of this baby to smite you with locusts….don’t make me do this…you wont like me when I am angry”
Poor woman had to finally give birth in a barn, surrounded by animals, then what happens? Men arrive with gifts. No women came …just men.
Did they bring hot tea and pain killers? Maybe a warm blanket or some soup? No they brought Frankincense and other strange shit, just what she needed as she chewed her own umbilical cord….one man brought a lamb….there already had wee sheep and donkeys but hey one more lamb is good yes?
Poor Mary, I personally would have punched Joseph in the balls, killed a lamb and left the baby on the door step of the inn keeper who ignored her pleas, then fucked off to Syria, took in a beach holiday and divorced Joseph. God could fight over the custody battle; it was his son after all.
You see that’s why I would never have been picked to give birth to God’s son and become a religious icon….I hate nuns!
“Deck the halls with bows of holly…lalalalalalalalal”
“Ok hold the door and I will get it all out” he answered.
So he carried the two giant boxes up the stairs and let me get on with it.
I managed to rope him in to the tree trimming by saying “Please help me, these branches that need assembled and constructed have tiny wee colour strips to help you sort them out in size and I am colour blind as you know, please help me I love you….” I whined.
My tree is a bunch of green branches that are poked into a solid green stalk that comes in tubes that you slot together, it is difficult to build.
He sat down beside me and my gigantic mound of green plastic branches; he sorted them all out in size, colour code and in order of assembly. He then started putting it all together with me and before you knew it we were trimming a tree! The very tree that he hated and tried to make me give away rather than build for the holiday season.
I finally got it all up and tied on all my lovely sentimental decorations. Husband was fussing and fixing little red velvet bows (this was extremely unusual as husband has a primeval fear of velvet and normally goes foetal rather than touch it) he made such a nice job of the decorations.
I am happy- the tree looks amazing and the room is so seasonal….so nice.
Now all I have to do get husband to share my love of make up, cleansing balms and Donny Osmond.
I then finally sorted out the wee nativity scene, made me think about poor Mary…imagine being pregnant with the Son of God, then being married to a man who never organised the delivery in advance? I mean they had NINE months to get ready for what was going to be the most talked about birth in the history of the WORLD! Yet they left it all to the last minute, then he pulled her onto a fucking asthmatic donkey and dragged her to a town where the whole place was mobbed because of a census….the poor woman must have been dying in pain, knocking on doors begging for a bed in LABOUR!
How she kept her patience and accepted their “Sorry no room luv” I would have clutched my heaving belly and screamed
“For Fucksake, I am squeezing out God’s son here; you must have a fucking floor near a fire and couple of blankets? Help me or I swear I will get the father of this baby to smite you with locusts….don’t make me do this…you wont like me when I am angry”
Poor woman had to finally give birth in a barn, surrounded by animals, then what happens? Men arrive with gifts. No women came …just men.
Did they bring hot tea and pain killers? Maybe a warm blanket or some soup? No they brought Frankincense and other strange shit, just what she needed as she chewed her own umbilical cord….one man brought a lamb….there already had wee sheep and donkeys but hey one more lamb is good yes?
Poor Mary, I personally would have punched Joseph in the balls, killed a lamb and left the baby on the door step of the inn keeper who ignored her pleas, then fucked off to Syria, took in a beach holiday and divorced Joseph. God could fight over the custody battle; it was his son after all.
You see that’s why I would never have been picked to give birth to God’s son and become a religious icon….I hate nuns!
“Deck the halls with bows of holly…lalalalalalalalal”
Friday, December 01, 2006
Tracing my family Tree…
I have spent the last few days tracing my roots. It has been hugely interesting and to be honest very revealing!
For instance my new baby niece Julia is a long line of Julia’s that stretch back to the early 1800s. My dad’s gran was a Julia, her mum was a Julia and her mum was also called Julia with the surname Derham. Very unusual name I think, but there we have it. I also discovered that both my great grandparents Annie and James died on the same day in December 1952. That must have shaken the family losing both parents.
The funny thing I came across was that the name Gunn was in my family, well we always knew I had guns in the family for a long time!
So I have been immersed in the last century for days now and find it really amazing how these people lived and little did they know that one day I would be writing about them.
All those poor wee Dutch and French immigrants who made there merry way to Scotland, marrying, breeding and finally settling in Glasgow, never telling much to each generation, only leaving behind Parish records and Marriage certificates, scrawling names that they probably never thought anyone would want to read again and never knowing that I, their great-great-great grand daughter would finally get to run my finger over that weak blue ink.
They buried children stricken by the measles and whooping cough, they sent sons of to war, they became weavers and bar tenders, they married and died and I wonder what part of that DNA was left in me. Probably none I suppose, but I do wonder what the women of my past were like.
I would love to know how they lived and how they died.
My mother died at 47 years and her mother died at 38 years old, but the women before that survived into their 60’s.
I traced Ashley dad’s side of the family and they ended up Irish and French on his side, and extremely Scottish on his mother’s, mother’s side. They were highlanders’ through and through but am sure history tells us that no-one is truly British we are all descendants through Scandinavians and Normans. Though Ashley tells me it’s a fact that one in four of the world’s population are descended from China.
So if anyone out there knows the name Derham, then we may well be related!
For instance my new baby niece Julia is a long line of Julia’s that stretch back to the early 1800s. My dad’s gran was a Julia, her mum was a Julia and her mum was also called Julia with the surname Derham. Very unusual name I think, but there we have it. I also discovered that both my great grandparents Annie and James died on the same day in December 1952. That must have shaken the family losing both parents.
The funny thing I came across was that the name Gunn was in my family, well we always knew I had guns in the family for a long time!
So I have been immersed in the last century for days now and find it really amazing how these people lived and little did they know that one day I would be writing about them.
All those poor wee Dutch and French immigrants who made there merry way to Scotland, marrying, breeding and finally settling in Glasgow, never telling much to each generation, only leaving behind Parish records and Marriage certificates, scrawling names that they probably never thought anyone would want to read again and never knowing that I, their great-great-great grand daughter would finally get to run my finger over that weak blue ink.
They buried children stricken by the measles and whooping cough, they sent sons of to war, they became weavers and bar tenders, they married and died and I wonder what part of that DNA was left in me. Probably none I suppose, but I do wonder what the women of my past were like.
I would love to know how they lived and how they died.
My mother died at 47 years and her mother died at 38 years old, but the women before that survived into their 60’s.
I traced Ashley dad’s side of the family and they ended up Irish and French on his side, and extremely Scottish on his mother’s, mother’s side. They were highlanders’ through and through but am sure history tells us that no-one is truly British we are all descendants through Scandinavians and Normans. Though Ashley tells me it’s a fact that one in four of the world’s population are descended from China.
So if anyone out there knows the name Derham, then we may well be related!
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