I am going home tomorrow and getting everything ready for my posters and flyers for my two shows at Edinburgh this year. I am doing a chat show at 5pm at Green Room and a one woman comedy show at Pleasance at 7pm - tickets are available online and selling well already! To book online for my one woman comedy show go to Booking Link
Hopefully I will see all my blog mates in Edinburgh and we can have a blog party!
Meanwhile I am in Leeds for three days doing comedy at Jongleurs. I do love this city; it has a great canal walk and wonderful old buildings to look round.
Instead of staying at the appointed hotel, we opted to live in the K Space apartments and they are awesome. I have a wonderful two bedroom flat with en suite bathrooms and amazing spacious living room with a huge balcony.
I love staying at K Space as you get the feel of a being at home as opposed to living in a one room hotel accommodation which always ends up a fight with husband and I.
He never sleeps good at night and ends up pacing the room if we are stuck together in a hotel or puts the television on really loud and that means I cant sleep but I can fucking fight…so having an apartment saves the marriage.
The apartments are in a tall block and last night around 2 am some people in the apartment block opposite started chucking their furniture out of their window.
Husband and I stood on our balcony and watched a sofa, a TV and various pieces of household items being thrown from the balcony on the 6th floor onto the parapet beneath, it was really rock and roll but I assume it may have been some crazy people who had a party and decided furniture throwing is an Olympic sport.
That’s Leeds for you!
See you all in Edinburgh hopefully!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Warm and Home…
There can be nothing better than your first decent shower in a warm bathroom after Glastonbury. Ashley and I had our first shower in London to be precise. We were staying in a friend of mines house, he is gay and an architect and you should have seen his shower room!
WOW…a huge wet room with pulsating (don’t you just love that word?) shower heads and giant fluffy towels, with heated floors and all the shower products you will ever need in your gay life!
I think I actually shed a skin when I got clean. I had scrubbed and exfoliated and then slathered myself in sweet smelling body lotion…it was heaven.
The downside of the wonderful stay in his lovely house was that he had two mental cats (who would have thought?).
One cat was a huge blue/grey coloured man cat with orange eyes and it jumped about like a bulldog and the other was a tortoiseshell female cat that sat quiet and loved to be stroked.
The big man cat followed me about and kept rubbing his big sturdy back against me and when I went to bed, he promptly leapt onto the bed and bit my feet through the duvet.
To be honest I was tired I didn’t even feel it.
So we are home in Glasgow and my entire suitcase contents needs washed as everything smelled smokey due to the camp fire being near our tent.
Husband is so happy to have us home, yet never had any decent food in the fridge and Ashley through a big huffy tantrum and he had to go get loads of nice food for her today.
I never really explained in my last blog entry how horrible I felt in Glastonbury as the sheer amount of rain and mud made me feel so dirty, wet and miserable. It was awful and so fucking soul destroying beyond belief. Though I really love the festival, I whinged and when I got out and realised that people had actually died in the floods- I shut my moaning mouth and decided to stop being so whiney.
If I go back next year I will most definitely hire a camper van or caravan type vehicle to live in, as that will be warm and safe and easy to deal with. I still have flashbacks of standing up in that tent and stepping into cold rain and trying to stop the flood of water spreading into my dry clothes.
Life is good here in Glasgow and I have learned one thing, homeless people deal with stuff I can never even begin to imagine and I had a warm expensive tent to live in. They sleep on the streets and deal with our weather day in and out without any shelter and I now have the utmost respect for their resilience.
I am selfish and very very grateful.
WOW…a huge wet room with pulsating (don’t you just love that word?) shower heads and giant fluffy towels, with heated floors and all the shower products you will ever need in your gay life!
I think I actually shed a skin when I got clean. I had scrubbed and exfoliated and then slathered myself in sweet smelling body lotion…it was heaven.
The downside of the wonderful stay in his lovely house was that he had two mental cats (who would have thought?).
One cat was a huge blue/grey coloured man cat with orange eyes and it jumped about like a bulldog and the other was a tortoiseshell female cat that sat quiet and loved to be stroked.
The big man cat followed me about and kept rubbing his big sturdy back against me and when I went to bed, he promptly leapt onto the bed and bit my feet through the duvet.
To be honest I was tired I didn’t even feel it.
So we are home in Glasgow and my entire suitcase contents needs washed as everything smelled smokey due to the camp fire being near our tent.
Husband is so happy to have us home, yet never had any decent food in the fridge and Ashley through a big huffy tantrum and he had to go get loads of nice food for her today.
I never really explained in my last blog entry how horrible I felt in Glastonbury as the sheer amount of rain and mud made me feel so dirty, wet and miserable. It was awful and so fucking soul destroying beyond belief. Though I really love the festival, I whinged and when I got out and realised that people had actually died in the floods- I shut my moaning mouth and decided to stop being so whiney.
If I go back next year I will most definitely hire a camper van or caravan type vehicle to live in, as that will be warm and safe and easy to deal with. I still have flashbacks of standing up in that tent and stepping into cold rain and trying to stop the flood of water spreading into my dry clothes.
Life is good here in Glasgow and I have learned one thing, homeless people deal with stuff I can never even begin to imagine and I had a warm expensive tent to live in. They sleep on the streets and deal with our weather day in and out without any shelter and I now have the utmost respect for their resilience.
I am selfish and very very grateful.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Glastonbury...
Well I survived. I am sorry I have not written a blog in days but there was no internet connection whatsoever. Ashley my daughter and I pitched the tent (in the rain) and it was allocated beside the campfire (which never stayed alight because of the rain).
Within hours the whole campsite turned to MUD, by that I mean mud and sludge that was so thick it sucked the wellies off your legs... (In the rain).
I was the first actual stand up to perform in the huge cabaret tent. It took me ages to walk the short distance to the tent due to the huge volume of…did I mention the mud?
Anyway, the gig had all the makings of a nightmare, as I was first on and the room hadn’t had comedy yet as such. But then, the rain came harder and the whole tent filled up!
I walked on stage and had the best half hour gig of my life! It was awesome, I even got to tell a huge long story and in the middle of my set the magnificent crowd was quiet and listening and then from the deluge of wet people all I could hear was a wee “Mwaaa” a baby cried!
The place fell about laughing as I explained that it was the youngest heckle of my life, so we all went quiet again and listened to see if the baby would cry again and it didn’t but we cheered anyway.
Living in the tent was fine, but the relentless rain made everyone so bloody exhausted and having to dredge through miles of knee high mud was making me so upset I cried.
I suppose having a period in the middle of that quagmire wasn’t helping at all. Don’t even think about the toilets!
But I do love Glastonbury, though I silently prayed for escape after about two days.
Ashley had a great time, got to see and hear wonderful music and made fab friends as always. She manages to connect to people and have lasting friendships everywhere she goes.
I on the other hand screamed so loud when a big black beetle ran through my tent everyone laughed as I shouted “Please help me a big beetle is hiding under my jumbo pack of sanitary towels” Ashley was mortified and kicked me.
So I am safely out of the camp and sitting in London waiting to fly home with a huge bag of smokey smelling clothes and hair that will never really be clean and to top to all off I think that beetle is in my case. I saw something scuttle amongst my underwear bag as I reached for clean knickers today and I immediately decided these knickers are clean enough…
Did I mention the rain? Oh yes it rained for eight days solid.
Within hours the whole campsite turned to MUD, by that I mean mud and sludge that was so thick it sucked the wellies off your legs... (In the rain).
I was the first actual stand up to perform in the huge cabaret tent. It took me ages to walk the short distance to the tent due to the huge volume of…did I mention the mud?
Anyway, the gig had all the makings of a nightmare, as I was first on and the room hadn’t had comedy yet as such. But then, the rain came harder and the whole tent filled up!
I walked on stage and had the best half hour gig of my life! It was awesome, I even got to tell a huge long story and in the middle of my set the magnificent crowd was quiet and listening and then from the deluge of wet people all I could hear was a wee “Mwaaa” a baby cried!
The place fell about laughing as I explained that it was the youngest heckle of my life, so we all went quiet again and listened to see if the baby would cry again and it didn’t but we cheered anyway.
Living in the tent was fine, but the relentless rain made everyone so bloody exhausted and having to dredge through miles of knee high mud was making me so upset I cried.
I suppose having a period in the middle of that quagmire wasn’t helping at all. Don’t even think about the toilets!
But I do love Glastonbury, though I silently prayed for escape after about two days.
Ashley had a great time, got to see and hear wonderful music and made fab friends as always. She manages to connect to people and have lasting friendships everywhere she goes.
I on the other hand screamed so loud when a big black beetle ran through my tent everyone laughed as I shouted “Please help me a big beetle is hiding under my jumbo pack of sanitary towels” Ashley was mortified and kicked me.
So I am safely out of the camp and sitting in London waiting to fly home with a huge bag of smokey smelling clothes and hair that will never really be clean and to top to all off I think that beetle is in my case. I saw something scuttle amongst my underwear bag as I reached for clean knickers today and I immediately decided these knickers are clean enough…
Did I mention the rain? Oh yes it rained for eight days solid.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
London and Ashley…
My daughter Ashley and I got up early in Glasgow to fly out to London today (Wednesday). We are packed and ready to head off to Glastonbury. First we must stop off in London as I get my lift from London to the festival site and Ashley has packed a huge case of clothes which I don’t think she will be able to wear as finally the weather here in UK looks like rain.
We have a golden spring which reached temperatures of 90 degrees on some days, now when I need the weather to hold…it looks like rain in Glastonbury for the whole weekend. Wonderful.
I am so tired because as soon as we landed we got driven straight to BBC broadcasting house for me to a short piece about the festival and then a car drove us to our swish and truly awesome flat in Westminster.
I think the last person to live here was Tom Cruise…I am joking of course but you should see this place…WOW…right next door to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament…I am so lucky.
Ashley and I headed down to the Groucho club and had dinner, and then we literally slumped into seats and needed our beds.
We have a big day tomorrow, and I am not looking forward to putting up that huge tent which will be my home for the next four days…no sireee. From the lap of luxury to a big fucking muddy field…this is my life!
We have a golden spring which reached temperatures of 90 degrees on some days, now when I need the weather to hold…it looks like rain in Glastonbury for the whole weekend. Wonderful.
I am so tired because as soon as we landed we got driven straight to BBC broadcasting house for me to a short piece about the festival and then a car drove us to our swish and truly awesome flat in Westminster.
I think the last person to live here was Tom Cruise…I am joking of course but you should see this place…WOW…right next door to Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament…I am so lucky.
Ashley and I headed down to the Groucho club and had dinner, and then we literally slumped into seats and needed our beds.
We have a big day tomorrow, and I am not looking forward to putting up that huge tent which will be my home for the next four days…no sireee. From the lap of luxury to a big fucking muddy field…this is my life!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
The story of my jukebox…
I cannot believe that Daryl Hall is 61 years old; I just found this out when I uploaded his amazing solo album from 1993 ‘Soul Alone’. I found a big box of cd’s in my wardrobe from when I used to own a bar in my almost past life. You should hear ‘Philly Mood’ its astounding.
The best thing about owning that bar from 1980 till 1994 was that I was in charge of the jukebox and I got to choose what went in and what came out. It seems fair that I had to spend the best years of my life in that fucking old pub, that I chose the theme tune to my own life.
I loved Hall and Oates from their early stuff right through till today. I am still shocked that Daryl is 61 years old and I still fancy him!
How odd is that?
Thinking about the old pub in the Calton near Glasgow Green, I recall the first song I heard in it. It was ‘Strawberry Letter #21’ by the Brothers Johnson. The year was 1979 and I was fascinated by the old vinyl playing jukebox. The last song I heard in it was ‘Hotel California’ by the Eagles in 1994.
Years later maybe mid 80s I remember the first cd jukebox’s coming into fashion and the first cd we got was ‘Captain of Heart’ by Double. Back then it could only hold six cd’s at one time and then technology progressed and we ended up with a small box on the wall and a big box downstairs in the cellar that held 500 cd’s in all.
We rented the system but owned all the cd’s and I loved picking all the favourites. Daryl Hall’s Soul alone was one of my favourite’s it never really took off but I loved it.
I also put in people like Todd Rundgren and obscure numbers from the likes of Dean Friedman.
I loved Dean Freidman; his late 1970s quirky music was such a love of mine, though the majority of my rough mad drunk East End Glaswegians hated it! I was a huge fan and didn’t care a fucking hoot what they thought.
Years later at the Edinburgh Fringe 2004, Dean Freidman was doing a show at Edinburgh also and he brought along his young family to see my show.
I was horrified as some of the material included talking about child abuse and murder and I didn’t want to scare my long loved idol’s kids. He shrugged, laughed hugged me and insisted they sat with him.
All the way through the show I was thinking in the back of my head “I can’t do the punchline about making my daughter do porn to pay back for her school fees as Dean Friedman’s kids are watching me” it was awful but he laughed at everything I said and before I closed the show I told the audience that he was there in the room.
I couldn’t believe that this crazy wee curly haired man whom I had adored his music and grown up listening to his songs was sitting watching me do comedy…it was too surreal…he even sang “Do you still love me? Yes I still love you, we can thank our lucky stars” just for me!
How odd is my life? Maybe my jukebox is coming to life and Daryl Hall will turn up this year? Here’s hoping…mmmm…
The best thing about owning that bar from 1980 till 1994 was that I was in charge of the jukebox and I got to choose what went in and what came out. It seems fair that I had to spend the best years of my life in that fucking old pub, that I chose the theme tune to my own life.
I loved Hall and Oates from their early stuff right through till today. I am still shocked that Daryl is 61 years old and I still fancy him!
How odd is that?
Thinking about the old pub in the Calton near Glasgow Green, I recall the first song I heard in it. It was ‘Strawberry Letter #21’ by the Brothers Johnson. The year was 1979 and I was fascinated by the old vinyl playing jukebox. The last song I heard in it was ‘Hotel California’ by the Eagles in 1994.
Years later maybe mid 80s I remember the first cd jukebox’s coming into fashion and the first cd we got was ‘Captain of Heart’ by Double. Back then it could only hold six cd’s at one time and then technology progressed and we ended up with a small box on the wall and a big box downstairs in the cellar that held 500 cd’s in all.
We rented the system but owned all the cd’s and I loved picking all the favourites. Daryl Hall’s Soul alone was one of my favourite’s it never really took off but I loved it.
I also put in people like Todd Rundgren and obscure numbers from the likes of Dean Friedman.
I loved Dean Freidman; his late 1970s quirky music was such a love of mine, though the majority of my rough mad drunk East End Glaswegians hated it! I was a huge fan and didn’t care a fucking hoot what they thought.
Years later at the Edinburgh Fringe 2004, Dean Freidman was doing a show at Edinburgh also and he brought along his young family to see my show.
I was horrified as some of the material included talking about child abuse and murder and I didn’t want to scare my long loved idol’s kids. He shrugged, laughed hugged me and insisted they sat with him.
All the way through the show I was thinking in the back of my head “I can’t do the punchline about making my daughter do porn to pay back for her school fees as Dean Friedman’s kids are watching me” it was awful but he laughed at everything I said and before I closed the show I told the audience that he was there in the room.
I couldn’t believe that this crazy wee curly haired man whom I had adored his music and grown up listening to his songs was sitting watching me do comedy…it was too surreal…he even sang “Do you still love me? Yes I still love you, we can thank our lucky stars” just for me!
How odd is my life? Maybe my jukebox is coming to life and Daryl Hall will turn up this year? Here’s hoping…mmmm…
Saturday, June 16, 2007
A Tattoo…
I saw the weirdest ever tattoo on a fat girls tummy last week. At first I thought it was ‘go faster’ type stripes she had inked into her tummy either side of her bellybutton pointing up the way.
I couldn’t imagine anyone having ‘go faster’ stripes on her belly, how fast does she want someone to go when they are on top of her.
Now these stripes were jagged looking big black electric lighting stripes that she had on her tummy and I realised that she actually had those Nazi Lighting marks.
I finally identified them when I saw the tattoo’s on a white supremist in the film American History X.
She was displaying them in the hot sunshine last week; I was stunned when I saw her big fat belly wobble in a bra top and really never understood what the tattoos were.
Now I am horrified that some young girl has big Nazi tattoos on her tummy in Glasgow!
Who the fuck does that? She is living in one of the most ethnic parts of Glasgow- here in the West End. We have a Mosque across the road and a big Jewish community near by.
The girl was dragging a hot screamy toddler along with her, she looked fat, old and tired but was just a teenager.
Maybe she didn’t know what they were when she got them? I don’t know!
I have never had a tattoo and never will. I don’t really find them interesting or attractive. I don’t even have my ears pierced. Neither does Ashley. I don’t think I need anymore holes in my body. I find the thought of holes in my ears sickening; I can’t even watch people insert earrings into that hole…Yuk…
I couldn’t imagine anyone having ‘go faster’ stripes on her belly, how fast does she want someone to go when they are on top of her.
Now these stripes were jagged looking big black electric lighting stripes that she had on her tummy and I realised that she actually had those Nazi Lighting marks.
I finally identified them when I saw the tattoo’s on a white supremist in the film American History X.
She was displaying them in the hot sunshine last week; I was stunned when I saw her big fat belly wobble in a bra top and really never understood what the tattoos were.
Now I am horrified that some young girl has big Nazi tattoos on her tummy in Glasgow!
Who the fuck does that? She is living in one of the most ethnic parts of Glasgow- here in the West End. We have a Mosque across the road and a big Jewish community near by.
The girl was dragging a hot screamy toddler along with her, she looked fat, old and tired but was just a teenager.
Maybe she didn’t know what they were when she got them? I don’t know!
I have never had a tattoo and never will. I don’t really find them interesting or attractive. I don’t even have my ears pierced. Neither does Ashley. I don’t think I need anymore holes in my body. I find the thought of holes in my ears sickening; I can’t even watch people insert earrings into that hole…Yuk…
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Sleeping and Eating…
I am sleeping too much again. It all started with the bad headache but ended up with an askew sleep pattern. I need to get back on track with my productive life. I have been working…don’t get me wrong, I am half way through my article for next weeks Scotsman and am coming up with marketing ideas for Edinburgh Fringe. I am just woozy and feeling vulnerable. Husband bought a big joint of beef the other day, coked it to perfection and we have all been slicing bits off the juicy meat and slowly working our way through it.
Honestly I had meat sweats I ate so much yesterday.
The dreams have been going crazy, regular readers of my blog will know of the scary horrid nightmares I have been suffering from for many years now. It’s truly awful and by fuck it’s scary as anything ever seen on a horror movie.
In the middle of particular scary slasher dream my phone woke me up and I think I may have agreed to a comedy gig somewhere at sometime for a price I am not sure I know of….note to Janey don’t answer phone half asleep and agree to stuff.
I need to try and think of who I actually spoke to and check the date!
Husband is annoying me with being nice; I hate it when he does this. This nice supportive helpful man worries me somewhat. We always trade in under hand double entendres, a language based on nasty evil pain and years of knowing each others weak spots…some people call it bad behaviour… we call it affection.
Lately he is nice and I lie awake and wonder why. I am being cruel here; he isn’t actually the bastard he used to be.
After 27 years of marriage to an utter cunt, he is lovely now but sometimes I wonder why. Then I realise he is a better man, but sometimes I goad him into a fight to see if he will be a cunt again and he never is. He stops the fight and questions my motives for anger and tells me to explain what I am feeling and I want to stab him in the eye with a blunt spoon…I may miss the crazy man I used to be married to.
Then I recognise its actually me who is nuts and have a big reasonable man trying to work out why I am being a cunt and then I remind him of the bastard he used to be to try to win that argument…it’s a long story, but I always win and that’s all that matters eh?
So maybe I need to be nice to him.
I will consider it…or maybe I could blame my behaviour on my headache, coz surely migraines make you mental?
Honestly I had meat sweats I ate so much yesterday.
The dreams have been going crazy, regular readers of my blog will know of the scary horrid nightmares I have been suffering from for many years now. It’s truly awful and by fuck it’s scary as anything ever seen on a horror movie.
In the middle of particular scary slasher dream my phone woke me up and I think I may have agreed to a comedy gig somewhere at sometime for a price I am not sure I know of….note to Janey don’t answer phone half asleep and agree to stuff.
I need to try and think of who I actually spoke to and check the date!
Husband is annoying me with being nice; I hate it when he does this. This nice supportive helpful man worries me somewhat. We always trade in under hand double entendres, a language based on nasty evil pain and years of knowing each others weak spots…some people call it bad behaviour… we call it affection.
Lately he is nice and I lie awake and wonder why. I am being cruel here; he isn’t actually the bastard he used to be.
After 27 years of marriage to an utter cunt, he is lovely now but sometimes I wonder why. Then I realise he is a better man, but sometimes I goad him into a fight to see if he will be a cunt again and he never is. He stops the fight and questions my motives for anger and tells me to explain what I am feeling and I want to stab him in the eye with a blunt spoon…I may miss the crazy man I used to be married to.
Then I recognise its actually me who is nuts and have a big reasonable man trying to work out why I am being a cunt and then I remind him of the bastard he used to be to try to win that argument…it’s a long story, but I always win and that’s all that matters eh?
So maybe I need to be nice to him.
I will consider it…or maybe I could blame my behaviour on my headache, coz surely migraines make you mental?
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
My Head is going to Explode…
I had a horrible migraine, well it’s either that or a brain tumour is slowly building up for a blow out in my head. It was like a giant dwarf inside my head banging away with a sledge hammer.
I had to take the special tablet that the doc gave me ages ago. I am not to take it if it’s just a wee headache; it has to be a stonker before I swallow the BIG pill.
The tablet is kept in a special box in the medical cupboard at my home.
The Ceremony of taking the pill was like George Bush had decided to start a nuclear war and needed the special code that opened the box that let him press the big RED button!
Husband carried the pill through to me and I swallowed it. I waited with anticipation on the impending heart attack, convulsions and swollen tongue that are detailed in the list of side effects. Nothing happened.
I simply fell asleep and woke up with a much smaller gnome in my head that cracked my temple with a tiny toffee hammer. Much better.
So life goes on.
Got my Glastonbury Tickets through, I am performing at the Cabaret Tent next week and am still without transport. I am sure I will get there!
I walked to the post office yesterday to post my book to a mate. Outside the post office were two guys in a van who I recognised as the gardeners that work round our estate. (No I don’t own an estate, I live on one!)
“Hey you are Janey Godey!” one guy called out to me. My hair was a mess, I was pale due to the brain tumour I am growing and I wasn’t quite sure I was wearing a bra, in fact I was still in my pyjama trousers. I grimaced at the thought of meeting anyone when I look like Scary Mary the Mad Cat lady.
“Yes, I am” I smiled through gritted teeth and a dry acrid mouth.
“Listen to this” He waved me over to his van.
Then I heard my big annoying voice belt out of his cd system.
“We have you on cd” he shouted over me swearing on stage.
I was aghast. I haven’t distributed a cd, where the fuck did he get that from?
“My pal taped you onstage at Edinburgh and we listen to you all the time” he smiled.
“That’s a bootleg cd of me, I haven’t sold or made a cd” I answered.
“Shh, this bit is funny, wait to you hear her say this” he told me.
“Mate I fucking know what she is going to say because it’s ME” I shouted back.
They asked me for an autograph and I walked off hearing my own voice laughing in the background. I have been bootlegged.
I may have another migraine.
I had to take the special tablet that the doc gave me ages ago. I am not to take it if it’s just a wee headache; it has to be a stonker before I swallow the BIG pill.
The tablet is kept in a special box in the medical cupboard at my home.
The Ceremony of taking the pill was like George Bush had decided to start a nuclear war and needed the special code that opened the box that let him press the big RED button!
Husband carried the pill through to me and I swallowed it. I waited with anticipation on the impending heart attack, convulsions and swollen tongue that are detailed in the list of side effects. Nothing happened.
I simply fell asleep and woke up with a much smaller gnome in my head that cracked my temple with a tiny toffee hammer. Much better.
So life goes on.
Got my Glastonbury Tickets through, I am performing at the Cabaret Tent next week and am still without transport. I am sure I will get there!
I walked to the post office yesterday to post my book to a mate. Outside the post office were two guys in a van who I recognised as the gardeners that work round our estate. (No I don’t own an estate, I live on one!)
“Hey you are Janey Godey!” one guy called out to me. My hair was a mess, I was pale due to the brain tumour I am growing and I wasn’t quite sure I was wearing a bra, in fact I was still in my pyjama trousers. I grimaced at the thought of meeting anyone when I look like Scary Mary the Mad Cat lady.
“Yes, I am” I smiled through gritted teeth and a dry acrid mouth.
“Listen to this” He waved me over to his van.
Then I heard my big annoying voice belt out of his cd system.
“We have you on cd” he shouted over me swearing on stage.
I was aghast. I haven’t distributed a cd, where the fuck did he get that from?
“My pal taped you onstage at Edinburgh and we listen to you all the time” he smiled.
“That’s a bootleg cd of me, I haven’t sold or made a cd” I answered.
“Shh, this bit is funny, wait to you hear her say this” he told me.
“Mate I fucking know what she is going to say because it’s ME” I shouted back.
They asked me for an autograph and I walked off hearing my own voice laughing in the background. I have been bootlegged.
I may have another migraine.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Remembering the Ragman…
Back in the 1960s in inner city Glasgow we used to have a man who came round the streets with a big horse and cart. He would blow on an old brass horn and all the kids would come running out of their houses and head straight for the Ragman.
His big horse was old and smelly with more flies in its eyes than an African baby but we thought it was awesome as we never got to see a real live horse.
Its matted coat stank yet we would all clamber round to pet it and the big bastard of a horse hated kids and would try to kick us.
The Ragman would take clothes from us and give us in return one of three things.
1. A stretchy elasticised bracelet made from multi coloured panels that usually broke as soon as you stretched it.
2. A bat with an elastic string and ball that always banged you in the eye
3. A blue plastic whistle that startled the horse as soon as you blew it
To us kids though he was a magical man with a horse and we aimed to give him as many clothes as we could find.
We were really poor, so spare clothes were thin on the ground and the Ragman knew the kids were giving away stuff that really wasn’t supposed to be handed over. He would quickly swipe it from you, stuff it into his bag on the cart and let you choose your gift and a quick pet at the horse.
There was a woman up the next close to us who knitted handmade jumpers and cardigans for the community and I really hated the stuff my mammy got off her.
Once she knitted me a muddy brown cardigan with big black wooden buttons. The reason I despised this item was it was really scratchy and very tight, in fact so tight it actually ‘squeaked’ when you raised your arms, I think it was knitted with twine!
The squeaky cardigan made me so uncomfortable I used to throw it off as soon as I got out the house and run around the street in my wee cotton underwear vest. Even if it was cold, the cardigan had to go.
Once when the ragman came I saw my ultimate opportunity to get rid of the offending squeaky top and ripped it off and swapped it for a stretchy bracelet.
My mammy spotted this exchange and came bolting down the stairs and made the Ragman hand it back as she threw the stretchy bracelet back in his face.
I had to wear that bloody annoying cardigan till I finally grew out of it.
I wonder where all the Ragmen went?
His big horse was old and smelly with more flies in its eyes than an African baby but we thought it was awesome as we never got to see a real live horse.
Its matted coat stank yet we would all clamber round to pet it and the big bastard of a horse hated kids and would try to kick us.
The Ragman would take clothes from us and give us in return one of three things.
1. A stretchy elasticised bracelet made from multi coloured panels that usually broke as soon as you stretched it.
2. A bat with an elastic string and ball that always banged you in the eye
3. A blue plastic whistle that startled the horse as soon as you blew it
To us kids though he was a magical man with a horse and we aimed to give him as many clothes as we could find.
We were really poor, so spare clothes were thin on the ground and the Ragman knew the kids were giving away stuff that really wasn’t supposed to be handed over. He would quickly swipe it from you, stuff it into his bag on the cart and let you choose your gift and a quick pet at the horse.
There was a woman up the next close to us who knitted handmade jumpers and cardigans for the community and I really hated the stuff my mammy got off her.
Once she knitted me a muddy brown cardigan with big black wooden buttons. The reason I despised this item was it was really scratchy and very tight, in fact so tight it actually ‘squeaked’ when you raised your arms, I think it was knitted with twine!
The squeaky cardigan made me so uncomfortable I used to throw it off as soon as I got out the house and run around the street in my wee cotton underwear vest. Even if it was cold, the cardigan had to go.
Once when the ragman came I saw my ultimate opportunity to get rid of the offending squeaky top and ripped it off and swapped it for a stretchy bracelet.
My mammy spotted this exchange and came bolting down the stairs and made the Ragman hand it back as she threw the stretchy bracelet back in his face.
I had to wear that bloody annoying cardigan till I finally grew out of it.
I wonder where all the Ragmen went?
Friday, June 08, 2007
Am Sunburnt and Nippy…
I went to Balmaha beach at Loch Lomond. It’s my favourite spot in Scotland. It’s a stony beach beside a lovely Loch and usually so quiet and peaceful.
This time there were a few screaming kids that truly deserved a fork in their nasty wee foreheads…noisy fuckers.
Husband and I brought along one of those throw away barbeques, you know the ones where you light a metal tray and throw on sausages?
Now I loved the idea of a barbeque but in actual fact everything just tasted burnt and odd. Even the roll I ate it off tasted horrible, give me sandwiches any day.
Bloody barbeques! Wish I could have thrown those noisy kids onto the hot coals.
I made sure husband had enough sun block as the temperature soared, I forgot to put any on myself and today I am red and striped, I look like a barber’s pole.
My neckline is rosy red and around my eyes are big white circles where my glasses sat and my cheeks look like a Halloween cake, with big bulgy red circles.
I am sore and grumpy.
At least I have lost weight, not sure if this is my diet working or I have bowel cancer, as I had the skits for weeks off and on now. I am living on tablets that stop me having the runs. This is not good and I need to get a docs appointment. It may be stress, I am not sure.
Am off to watch TV and take Imodium…
This time there were a few screaming kids that truly deserved a fork in their nasty wee foreheads…noisy fuckers.
Husband and I brought along one of those throw away barbeques, you know the ones where you light a metal tray and throw on sausages?
Now I loved the idea of a barbeque but in actual fact everything just tasted burnt and odd. Even the roll I ate it off tasted horrible, give me sandwiches any day.
Bloody barbeques! Wish I could have thrown those noisy kids onto the hot coals.
I made sure husband had enough sun block as the temperature soared, I forgot to put any on myself and today I am red and striped, I look like a barber’s pole.
My neckline is rosy red and around my eyes are big white circles where my glasses sat and my cheeks look like a Halloween cake, with big bulgy red circles.
I am sore and grumpy.
At least I have lost weight, not sure if this is my diet working or I have bowel cancer, as I had the skits for weeks off and on now. I am living on tablets that stop me having the runs. This is not good and I need to get a docs appointment. It may be stress, I am not sure.
Am off to watch TV and take Imodium…
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Never scared me…
Seems the day I had flown out of JFK, the New York police and FBI stopped a plot to blow it up!
They have arrested four men who are allegedly the terrorists who had organised to explode the fuel pipes that feed that airport.
I don’t know if the day I was flying out was that day they were getting ready to go to town on their explosive attack but I do know I no longer care or worry or fear terrorism.
When in London on any public transport I go sit right beside any Muslim looking man carrying a backpack. I figure if you welcome death it evades you and I never intend to be scared.
When I was a kid people would tell me not to go near a dog because it was biter and
I would always make a point of rubbing its head and making friends with it. I welcomed the rage of the animal, as I was sure if it smelt fear it would bite but if it recognised my lack of terror it would be ok.
This neither makes me brave or mad, it’s just a theory that I lived with and I have survived loads of shit in my life.
A few years ago a building near my home exploded, people died and were dying in that building and I ran towards it with a camera taking pictures of the devastation.
Those pics made the front page of the Glasgow Evening Times.
People questioned my motives at the time and I reckoned that a documentation of the unfolding event needed to be recorded. I have no idea why I carried on taking pictures as people were running around injured, but it felt ok at the time and as I have no real first aid experience I wouldn’t have tried to administer it.
So taking pictures was the only thing I could do.
Carrying on regardless in the middle of a scary situation is what I prefer to do.
My theory has seen me through the scariest of times and I am sticking with it. I don’t mean I actively seek danger, but if presented with a dangerous situation, I would rather fly in the face of it.
The only thing that really scares me is wasps and flying beasties.
Show me wasps or bugs and I will scream like a girl and run like the fucking wind.
Show me a man with a knife and I will challenge him to an arm wrestle.
They have arrested four men who are allegedly the terrorists who had organised to explode the fuel pipes that feed that airport.
I don’t know if the day I was flying out was that day they were getting ready to go to town on their explosive attack but I do know I no longer care or worry or fear terrorism.
When in London on any public transport I go sit right beside any Muslim looking man carrying a backpack. I figure if you welcome death it evades you and I never intend to be scared.
When I was a kid people would tell me not to go near a dog because it was biter and
I would always make a point of rubbing its head and making friends with it. I welcomed the rage of the animal, as I was sure if it smelt fear it would bite but if it recognised my lack of terror it would be ok.
This neither makes me brave or mad, it’s just a theory that I lived with and I have survived loads of shit in my life.
A few years ago a building near my home exploded, people died and were dying in that building and I ran towards it with a camera taking pictures of the devastation.
Those pics made the front page of the Glasgow Evening Times.
People questioned my motives at the time and I reckoned that a documentation of the unfolding event needed to be recorded. I have no idea why I carried on taking pictures as people were running around injured, but it felt ok at the time and as I have no real first aid experience I wouldn’t have tried to administer it.
So taking pictures was the only thing I could do.
Carrying on regardless in the middle of a scary situation is what I prefer to do.
My theory has seen me through the scariest of times and I am sticking with it. I don’t mean I actively seek danger, but if presented with a dangerous situation, I would rather fly in the face of it.
The only thing that really scares me is wasps and flying beasties.
Show me wasps or bugs and I will scream like a girl and run like the fucking wind.
Show me a man with a knife and I will challenge him to an arm wrestle.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Home again naturally…
Yes, bleak rainy Glasgow is good reminder of where I am from. I am glad to see the rain of Scotland batter off my bedroom window, believe me…after all that oppressive heat of NY; I am bathing in the rain!
I have slept more than I should and now it is Sunday afternoon and Ashley is sitting playing her guitar and making me smile. How I missed her!
I bought her G Unit rapper clothes in NY and she loved them, I was concerned about the sizes as the hoodie top was huge and I was utterly convinced that I knew no one who could wear such an overly sized item, but apparently that is how you wear the gear.
I did go to the kids department and got her a G Unit tee shirt and it fits her perfectly but that was the wrong thing to do as I was supposed to get the tee shirt in the size of a tent!
How I laughed when I saw my white tall middle class child dressed in big baggy rapper clothes…she looks so funny in them.
Husband and I had our ‘Welcome home’ argument that always happens when I go away for ages. I had to admit three things to stop the fight escalating.
1- I am selfish and don’t understand other peoples needs.
2- I need to accept the world does not revolve around me.
3- Husband does everything to make my life easier and I don’t appreciate it.
So I agreed to all of the above and the world went smoother. Underneath it all I am seething but being married means that you have to compromise your life to allow other people to function around you or apparently you are Hitler.
So I am home and happy (well sort of).
I have slept more than I should and now it is Sunday afternoon and Ashley is sitting playing her guitar and making me smile. How I missed her!
I bought her G Unit rapper clothes in NY and she loved them, I was concerned about the sizes as the hoodie top was huge and I was utterly convinced that I knew no one who could wear such an overly sized item, but apparently that is how you wear the gear.
I did go to the kids department and got her a G Unit tee shirt and it fits her perfectly but that was the wrong thing to do as I was supposed to get the tee shirt in the size of a tent!
How I laughed when I saw my white tall middle class child dressed in big baggy rapper clothes…she looks so funny in them.
Husband and I had our ‘Welcome home’ argument that always happens when I go away for ages. I had to admit three things to stop the fight escalating.
1- I am selfish and don’t understand other peoples needs.
2- I need to accept the world does not revolve around me.
3- Husband does everything to make my life easier and I don’t appreciate it.
So I agreed to all of the above and the world went smoother. Underneath it all I am seething but being married means that you have to compromise your life to allow other people to function around you or apparently you are Hitler.
So I am home and happy (well sort of).
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