At this time of the year, I always have deep scary dreams. It’s the stress of the fringe playing on my mind.
This one was particularly horrifying. It started with my daughter’s best pal Victoria, she was standing in my living room and we were jokingly mocking her about a boy she had met. She took it badly and ran into my bedroom and climbed onto my bed and opened our big window. We live on the top floor. I watched as she climbed backwards through the window and held on with both hands onto the frame, screaming she was going to let herself go.
My daughter was standing on the bed begging her to come back in and for some reason I could hear my husband down in the back car park shouting at her to stop the nonsense.
In the moment I stood there I felt the utter depth of her soul and I actually understood her need to let go, in between all the screaming and watching my daughter beg her to stop, I actually felt the horror of Victoria’s pain. It was disgusting and hollow.
Like a bottomless pit in my stomach. That one second of her pain was revealed to me like she had transferred all her deepest fears and sorrow to me in one glance and my soul had sucked it in and let it penetrate my heart.
Victoria just closed her eyes and let herself go out of the window. My daughter Ashley fell on the bed hysterical and wept. I ran out of the bedroom and ran about panicking then ran back into the bedroom and the scene that faced me made my heart stop. Ashley was standing up on the window ledge, she made eye contact with me, and she never spoke, she smiled and her eyes twinkled and then she waved, and then let herself drop into the emptiness.
I ran to the window paralysed with fear and watched her fall and then she bounced off a parked car and her broken dead body lay stiffly beside her friend Victoria who was splattered all over the concrete. My husband was screaming as his daughter lay in the backyard dead.
I woke up screaming and ran into Ashley’s room and there she was all sleepy and tangled up in her duvet. Her favourite teddy was snuggled up in her arms and her dark hair was spread around her head like a dark wavy halo. Her pale face was serene, her dark eyelashes sat thickly on her cheeks and that beautiful pouting rose coloured mouth made her look like a baby.
I stood in the silence of her bedroom and watched her for a few moments.
I was recalling the sheer horror that I had felt seconds ago and knew in that moment that if she died I would have to go to my death to; I couldn’t bear to live my life without knowing she was there.
I know grief, I felt it last week.
The rest of the fringe will be piss easy. I have my daughter safely hugging me as I write this. Life is good.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Can life get any more stressed?
Now not only am I having the worst period pains in my life, but I have to get packed up and move to Edinburgh and start doing my fringe shows. I had the most hectic weekend as well.
On Friday night I did my comedy preview show at Kilmarnock, then went to the Central station and got on the late night sleeper to London. The cabin was tiny and hot, one wee squinty bed with the covers so tightly tucked in I had to squeeze my fat bloated body in.
I couldn’t sleep, the bloody train rocks and shoogles all through the night and I kept waking up thinking the train was crashing! Nice…
Anyway managed to get to London on time to do the fabulous BBC Radio 4 show ‘Saturday Live’ with the ever so cool Tom Robinson, he is amazing. I love the show and it was a great experience being on it and Tom is a wonderful guy. I am such a fan of his.
Then I got in a cab and went to Heathrow to fly back home and do my other preview in Kilmarnock. The show was not as high energy as I wanted but after having such a heavy period and being tried….well I was all out of sparks! Though the show went fine.
Last night I sat and watched ZULU that old 60s movie with Michael Caine and Stanley Baker and pissed myself laughing at the accents and attitude of those poncy British Soldiers. How presumptuous of them to assume they could colonise a nation with a stiff upper lip and silver service tea set! I have to say though it was shot beautifully and the scenery was stunning. I am going to watch ZULU DAWN next and catch up on my old films.
I always do this at Edinburgh time; I get out all my old film classics and watch them. It takes the heat off the stress of doing two shows a day.
So it is now Monday. I am getting packed up and today I go through to Edinburgh to do my technical run through. I am still woozy and tired but ready to roll.
I hope the two shows go well ‘Janey Godley’s Chat Show’ at the Green room 5pm and ‘Tell It Like It Is’ my comedy show up at the Pleasance at 7pm.
On Friday night I did my comedy preview show at Kilmarnock, then went to the Central station and got on the late night sleeper to London. The cabin was tiny and hot, one wee squinty bed with the covers so tightly tucked in I had to squeeze my fat bloated body in.
I couldn’t sleep, the bloody train rocks and shoogles all through the night and I kept waking up thinking the train was crashing! Nice…
Anyway managed to get to London on time to do the fabulous BBC Radio 4 show ‘Saturday Live’ with the ever so cool Tom Robinson, he is amazing. I love the show and it was a great experience being on it and Tom is a wonderful guy. I am such a fan of his.
Then I got in a cab and went to Heathrow to fly back home and do my other preview in Kilmarnock. The show was not as high energy as I wanted but after having such a heavy period and being tried….well I was all out of sparks! Though the show went fine.
Last night I sat and watched ZULU that old 60s movie with Michael Caine and Stanley Baker and pissed myself laughing at the accents and attitude of those poncy British Soldiers. How presumptuous of them to assume they could colonise a nation with a stiff upper lip and silver service tea set! I have to say though it was shot beautifully and the scenery was stunning. I am going to watch ZULU DAWN next and catch up on my old films.
I always do this at Edinburgh time; I get out all my old film classics and watch them. It takes the heat off the stress of doing two shows a day.
So it is now Monday. I am getting packed up and today I go through to Edinburgh to do my technical run through. I am still woozy and tired but ready to roll.
I hope the two shows go well ‘Janey Godley’s Chat Show’ at the Green room 5pm and ‘Tell It Like It Is’ my comedy show up at the Pleasance at 7pm.
Friday, July 27, 2007
My Tribute Act
Yes I know it’s hard to believe but I actually have my own tribute act! That’s me and Billy Connolly has our own personal imitators in Scotland. I have arrived!
He is a Scottish comic and he does a character called Senga McInally and it’s based on me. I heard about it through a mate and she told me it was hilarious, so I checked out his website and there he was in a black curly wig and in a dress, and actually does look like me! Except he kind of ruined the image by standing holding a beer and I don’t drink!
He goes on stage and does a parody of me and shouts about my best selling book! (I couldn’t pay for this kind of advertisement) I am so chuffed.
Anyway I popped down to a wee bar locally where he was gigging last weekend and asked him personally to come on my chat show at the Edinburgh Fringe at the Green Room at 5pm. He did at first agree but it seems now he can’t make it and I am so upset.
Can you imagine having your very own tribute act on your very own show?
My husband told me that until you have an impersonator you are a nobody, so at least I have discovered that I am famous enough to be recognised by audiences without even being there and that must say something.
Even George Bush had his own impersonator on his stage at one event, and the UK Puppet show Spitting Image proved that you had to be someone to be parodied.
Some other comics pointed out that his act is rather cruel about me, but I can’t see how that is true, if he goes to the bother of buying a black wig and dress and talks about my achievements then that’s not cruel. That’s good press.
My daughter and I did an extreme tribute to Jade Goody on my website videos; if she wasn’t famous she wouldn’t be worth doing, so it’s all relevant!
If he is nasty and cruel about me, fair play to him, I put myself up to be poked at and you have to take everything on the chin. I say stuff about famous people. I am just amazed that I am famous enough for audiences to have that laugh of recognition about me, that’s the amazing thing. Gobsmacked!
Anyway I don’t believe that the guy would be cruel or nasty about me, why would he, he is my tribute guy!
So a big round of applause and respect to Senga McInally and her continuous success is my thought on the matter.
May she live to see another day?
He is a Scottish comic and he does a character called Senga McInally and it’s based on me. I heard about it through a mate and she told me it was hilarious, so I checked out his website and there he was in a black curly wig and in a dress, and actually does look like me! Except he kind of ruined the image by standing holding a beer and I don’t drink!
He goes on stage and does a parody of me and shouts about my best selling book! (I couldn’t pay for this kind of advertisement) I am so chuffed.
Anyway I popped down to a wee bar locally where he was gigging last weekend and asked him personally to come on my chat show at the Edinburgh Fringe at the Green Room at 5pm. He did at first agree but it seems now he can’t make it and I am so upset.
Can you imagine having your very own tribute act on your very own show?
My husband told me that until you have an impersonator you are a nobody, so at least I have discovered that I am famous enough to be recognised by audiences without even being there and that must say something.
Even George Bush had his own impersonator on his stage at one event, and the UK Puppet show Spitting Image proved that you had to be someone to be parodied.
Some other comics pointed out that his act is rather cruel about me, but I can’t see how that is true, if he goes to the bother of buying a black wig and dress and talks about my achievements then that’s not cruel. That’s good press.
My daughter and I did an extreme tribute to Jade Goody on my website videos; if she wasn’t famous she wouldn’t be worth doing, so it’s all relevant!
If he is nasty and cruel about me, fair play to him, I put myself up to be poked at and you have to take everything on the chin. I say stuff about famous people. I am just amazed that I am famous enough for audiences to have that laugh of recognition about me, that’s the amazing thing. Gobsmacked!
Anyway I don’t believe that the guy would be cruel or nasty about me, why would he, he is my tribute guy!
So a big round of applause and respect to Senga McInally and her continuous success is my thought on the matter.
May she live to see another day?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Things I remember that make me snort with laughter
I remember about twelve years ago, I went to a private therapist to talk about the sexual abuse I had suffered as a child.
I didn’t really want to go but was advised that it would help. This was a new age type of holistic therapy. But it was recommended and although I was hesitant I tried to open my mind and try it.
On meeting the woman who was my one-on-one therapist, I immediately felt uncomfortable. She had that overly bright smiley look that makes me think of people who are on Valium or who are eternally happy over nothing.
Anyway she hugged me (how odd) and then sat me down and told me that before she could asses me we had to do some exercises!
I had just finished an eight hour shift in my busy pub and didn’t feel like being a tree or whatever the fuck she thought I wanted to be.
Anyway she stood me in the middle of this floor in a big empty room and handed me a small hard rubber ball. There was big circle in blue on the opposite wall and she told me to throw the ball at the circle, and then tell her what made me sad.
I was so fucking tired and couldn’t be arsed with this, I couldn’t see how being raped at five could be solved by lobbing a ball at a wall, but I thought I shouldn’t be churlish.
She told me before I threw the ball that anger is a controllable emotion, that it is natural and expressive, so not to feel strange but to feel ‘safe’. Then she smiled serenely, nodded her head at me, then opened her arms and hummed loudly.
I stifled a giggle.
I decided to take her words on board and I lifted my arm up and with all my strength I battered that wee ball towards the wall, it hurled in the air at an amazing speed, the sheer force of it hitting off the wall made a big popping sound.
The ball smacked the wall, ricocheted back and hit the woman right in the eye.
She fell on the floor and went into the foetal position and gasped in pain.
I stood there not knowing what to do, why the fuck did she stand in the room with her arms open, she looked like a target!
“Are you ok?” I asked.
She jumped up and held her eye with both hands and screamed at me “You have probably damaged my eye, why did you throw it so hard?”
“I was raped” was all I could say.
I laughed so much, she screamed more at me. All I could do was grab my coat and run out.
She was right; it did make me feel better.
I didn’t really want to go but was advised that it would help. This was a new age type of holistic therapy. But it was recommended and although I was hesitant I tried to open my mind and try it.
On meeting the woman who was my one-on-one therapist, I immediately felt uncomfortable. She had that overly bright smiley look that makes me think of people who are on Valium or who are eternally happy over nothing.
Anyway she hugged me (how odd) and then sat me down and told me that before she could asses me we had to do some exercises!
I had just finished an eight hour shift in my busy pub and didn’t feel like being a tree or whatever the fuck she thought I wanted to be.
Anyway she stood me in the middle of this floor in a big empty room and handed me a small hard rubber ball. There was big circle in blue on the opposite wall and she told me to throw the ball at the circle, and then tell her what made me sad.
I was so fucking tired and couldn’t be arsed with this, I couldn’t see how being raped at five could be solved by lobbing a ball at a wall, but I thought I shouldn’t be churlish.
She told me before I threw the ball that anger is a controllable emotion, that it is natural and expressive, so not to feel strange but to feel ‘safe’. Then she smiled serenely, nodded her head at me, then opened her arms and hummed loudly.
I stifled a giggle.
I decided to take her words on board and I lifted my arm up and with all my strength I battered that wee ball towards the wall, it hurled in the air at an amazing speed, the sheer force of it hitting off the wall made a big popping sound.
The ball smacked the wall, ricocheted back and hit the woman right in the eye.
She fell on the floor and went into the foetal position and gasped in pain.
I stood there not knowing what to do, why the fuck did she stand in the room with her arms open, she looked like a target!
“Are you ok?” I asked.
She jumped up and held her eye with both hands and screamed at me “You have probably damaged my eye, why did you throw it so hard?”
“I was raped” was all I could say.
I laughed so much, she screamed more at me. All I could do was grab my coat and run out.
She was right; it did make me feel better.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Daisy chains and shouting matches…
Well Glasgow is incredibly hot so I went to the park today to eat lunch and I actually made a daisy chain! I haven’t made one in years and it does take a bit of practise.
At least I got some peace and quiet.
I saw the feature of Ashley and I in the Sunday Times Ecosse section and the picture they used of me is hideously funny. I am stuck on a fence with one leg over and one leg behind the metal rail and it really is the most unflattering picture of me I have ever seen. Ashley looks like a Goddess. I look like a fat stuck pig. The article was great though.
Well there has been trouble at the Godley house hold. Husband and I had yet another spectacular shouting match (all we do is fight). As always it my fault, me again and my big fucking annoying mouth. I seem to make him pissed off just by breathing…is that possible? He is big MAN…you see I have run out of insults and have resorted to calling him a man that’s how exasperated he has got me lately.
Ashley is even grumpier; her favourite jeans that she has worn to death have actually died. They have fallen apart and are in shreds.
She had out seven pairs of jeans today and apparently none of them fit properly like her old jeans. So I have decided to get the old jeans and take them to a tailor to be copied. The things I will do for some fucking peace. I may just run away and never come back. They might not even miss me.
So there we have it, daisy chains and shouting matches. At least Scotland isn’t flooded.
At least I got some peace and quiet.
I saw the feature of Ashley and I in the Sunday Times Ecosse section and the picture they used of me is hideously funny. I am stuck on a fence with one leg over and one leg behind the metal rail and it really is the most unflattering picture of me I have ever seen. Ashley looks like a Goddess. I look like a fat stuck pig. The article was great though.
Well there has been trouble at the Godley house hold. Husband and I had yet another spectacular shouting match (all we do is fight). As always it my fault, me again and my big fucking annoying mouth. I seem to make him pissed off just by breathing…is that possible? He is big MAN…you see I have run out of insults and have resorted to calling him a man that’s how exasperated he has got me lately.
Ashley is even grumpier; her favourite jeans that she has worn to death have actually died. They have fallen apart and are in shreds.
She had out seven pairs of jeans today and apparently none of them fit properly like her old jeans. So I have decided to get the old jeans and take them to a tailor to be copied. The things I will do for some fucking peace. I may just run away and never come back. They might not even miss me.
So there we have it, daisy chains and shouting matches. At least Scotland isn’t flooded.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Great Floods and my history…
It seems Middle England is under water this week. Huge floods have swept across most of Cheltenham, Gloucester and other places that sound like building society’s in the UK.
Scotland seems to be fine so far and I am not sure if we are under threat but there is a reason they call us Lowlanders here in Glasgow!
I may move to the Highlands like my forefathers. Actually I recently investigated my gene pool and it seems I had a great, great, great Granny with the surname Derham, which isn’t actually from Durham but is Dutch.
How nice, I quite like being a bit Dutch.
My husband has Scottish Highlanders going back five generations and that explains why our daughter is really tall and looks like a big highland lass! All dark hair, fair skin and strong legs, Ashley was made for tree felling and fighting invaders.
I was made for rolling down hills and making clogs I suspect.
Here is my family tree that I found out so far- start at the bottom with my dad and work upwards.
(Her mum and dad) John Derham and Catherine Rogers (no dates)
/
(Her mum) Julia Derham (b 1853 d 1914)
/
(Her mum)Julia Gunn (b 1887 d 1949)
/
(His mother) Martha Currie (Died in 1950’s)
/
My dad Jim Currie (still alive)
So there we are- a wee bit of my history. I would like to add more to it, but I am still searching and need to go up to the genealogy department to finish it all off, but haven’t got the time yet.
I love figuring out where I came from and find it immensely interesting.
I will update as I find out more.
My name Godley was actually my middle name, I was born Janey Godley Currie –Godley was given to me by my Aunt Janey who married a bloke called John Godley in the late 50s and then she divorced him and I was left with his name and no one knows anything about him!
I suspect he was from Kent or somewhere like that, my aunt and he never had kids together and I don’t speak to my aunt. She hated me for taking her brother to court for sexually abusing me.
Her brother is my Uncle David who raped and abused me as a child and she defended him and insists I am a liar.
My uncle was charged and sentenced to three years imprisonment for abusing my sister and me. So I will probably never know who John Godley was or is or where he is now. But I have his name and I am proud of it!
I don’t hate my Aunt Janey, I feel sorry for her. She is somewhere out there convincing herself that her family name is intact and their honour is preserved.
What a shame, but I don’t feel sorry for telling the truth….EVER!
Scotland seems to be fine so far and I am not sure if we are under threat but there is a reason they call us Lowlanders here in Glasgow!
I may move to the Highlands like my forefathers. Actually I recently investigated my gene pool and it seems I had a great, great, great Granny with the surname Derham, which isn’t actually from Durham but is Dutch.
How nice, I quite like being a bit Dutch.
My husband has Scottish Highlanders going back five generations and that explains why our daughter is really tall and looks like a big highland lass! All dark hair, fair skin and strong legs, Ashley was made for tree felling and fighting invaders.
I was made for rolling down hills and making clogs I suspect.
Here is my family tree that I found out so far- start at the bottom with my dad and work upwards.
(Her mum and dad) John Derham and Catherine Rogers (no dates)
/
(Her mum) Julia Derham (b 1853 d 1914)
/
(Her mum)Julia Gunn (b 1887 d 1949)
/
(His mother) Martha Currie (Died in 1950’s)
/
My dad Jim Currie (still alive)
So there we are- a wee bit of my history. I would like to add more to it, but I am still searching and need to go up to the genealogy department to finish it all off, but haven’t got the time yet.
I love figuring out where I came from and find it immensely interesting.
I will update as I find out more.
My name Godley was actually my middle name, I was born Janey Godley Currie –Godley was given to me by my Aunt Janey who married a bloke called John Godley in the late 50s and then she divorced him and I was left with his name and no one knows anything about him!
I suspect he was from Kent or somewhere like that, my aunt and he never had kids together and I don’t speak to my aunt. She hated me for taking her brother to court for sexually abusing me.
Her brother is my Uncle David who raped and abused me as a child and she defended him and insists I am a liar.
My uncle was charged and sentenced to three years imprisonment for abusing my sister and me. So I will probably never know who John Godley was or is or where he is now. But I have his name and I am proud of it!
I don’t hate my Aunt Janey, I feel sorry for her. She is somewhere out there convincing herself that her family name is intact and their honour is preserved.
What a shame, but I don’t feel sorry for telling the truth….EVER!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
A fight with a God botherer…
Glasgow has a pedestrian area where more often that not Jesus people come past, set up camp and shout about God. I had a small argument with them as the young boy with the microphone asked me if my life was perfect and I shouted “Yes, I have no God to serve, I am good to people, I give money to charity and unlike the Catholic Church in America I don’t have to sell my property to pay off the kids I abused, but no doubt because I don’t have Jesus in my life you will tell me when I die I will go to hell”
The young guy stood there and as the public waited on his answer- I pushed him again “Am I going to hell even though I am a good person? Come on tell the people, they want to know” and he said quietly “Yes she will go to hell” and I laughed loudly and said that priests who have abused kids will got to heaven but I wont and yes my life is perfect.
So after that wee conclusion I marched off home happily. I am sure is Jesus is up there watching us he would agree with me more.
Life can be like that.
The young guy stood there and as the public waited on his answer- I pushed him again “Am I going to hell even though I am a good person? Come on tell the people, they want to know” and he said quietly “Yes she will go to hell” and I laughed loudly and said that priests who have abused kids will got to heaven but I wont and yes my life is perfect.
So after that wee conclusion I marched off home happily. I am sure is Jesus is up there watching us he would agree with me more.
Life can be like that.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
I am an ambassador…
There is a new charity in Scotland being launched tonight called World HIV Aids Charity in Edinburgh and I am an ambassador. I am doing a speech and an auction, and I will auction the authors signed copy of the latest Harry Potter book!
I may read the last few pages and spoil it for everyone! I WILL NOT!
Husband and I went down to Balmaha on the banks of Loch Lomond to visit my niece Ann Margaret, she and her husband were camping with baby Abi and Shaun. The sun was shining when we arrived and baby Abi was sitting sadly on a swing, so I went over to find out what was wrong; I thought she would be happy to see me.
“Hello Abi, are you ok?” I asked.
“No” she sulked.
“Why?” I asked.
“I want a wet suit and boat of my own, everyone else has one” she pouted.
I couldn’t stop laughing, a fucking boat and a wet suit! I recall begging for one roller skate when I was her age, one skate would have done me…a fucking boat? Hahahaha…
Anyway she finally decided to stop moaning come play on the beach. Just as we got there the clouds burst and the weather went from searing hot to pounding rain…we all ran towards the tent and huddled in to get out of the slashing storm.
Ann Margaret had a wee one ring gas stove, so as she and her husband drove off to buy fish and chips for dinner, my husband and I boiled some water and had a cup of tea. Finally the rain stopped and we sat outside in the wet fresh greenery and drank our hot mugs of tea…it was delightful!
The fish and chips arrived and wee Abi who is only four years old and must have a stomach the size of a wee golf ball yet managed to stuff huge amounts of food in and a few slices of bread!
She eats like hell and is a tiny wee fairy type child…it never fails to amaze me.
Shaun, who had been in the Loch swimming for ages also ate like a ravenous wolf, I couldn’t stop laughing at the way they sat so lovely and all fingers and pointy pinky fingers, yet chomping their way through a whole fish and plateful of chips.
They don’t normally get chips and fast food, but as the rain had destroyed all chances of eating from the barbeque desperate measures were needed!
Husband and I drove off home leaving the happy wee family sitting outside their wet tent, but enjoying a day with their kids. Ann Margaret’s youngest baby Julia was being babysat, so they had more time to spend with Shaun and Abi.
When we were leaving Abi hugged me and said “Can you buy me a boat Aunty Janey?” I just laughed and promised I would teach her to swim so she doesn’t need a boat in future.
I may read the last few pages and spoil it for everyone! I WILL NOT!
Husband and I went down to Balmaha on the banks of Loch Lomond to visit my niece Ann Margaret, she and her husband were camping with baby Abi and Shaun. The sun was shining when we arrived and baby Abi was sitting sadly on a swing, so I went over to find out what was wrong; I thought she would be happy to see me.
“Hello Abi, are you ok?” I asked.
“No” she sulked.
“Why?” I asked.
“I want a wet suit and boat of my own, everyone else has one” she pouted.
I couldn’t stop laughing, a fucking boat and a wet suit! I recall begging for one roller skate when I was her age, one skate would have done me…a fucking boat? Hahahaha…
Anyway she finally decided to stop moaning come play on the beach. Just as we got there the clouds burst and the weather went from searing hot to pounding rain…we all ran towards the tent and huddled in to get out of the slashing storm.
Ann Margaret had a wee one ring gas stove, so as she and her husband drove off to buy fish and chips for dinner, my husband and I boiled some water and had a cup of tea. Finally the rain stopped and we sat outside in the wet fresh greenery and drank our hot mugs of tea…it was delightful!
The fish and chips arrived and wee Abi who is only four years old and must have a stomach the size of a wee golf ball yet managed to stuff huge amounts of food in and a few slices of bread!
She eats like hell and is a tiny wee fairy type child…it never fails to amaze me.
Shaun, who had been in the Loch swimming for ages also ate like a ravenous wolf, I couldn’t stop laughing at the way they sat so lovely and all fingers and pointy pinky fingers, yet chomping their way through a whole fish and plateful of chips.
They don’t normally get chips and fast food, but as the rain had destroyed all chances of eating from the barbeque desperate measures were needed!
Husband and I drove off home leaving the happy wee family sitting outside their wet tent, but enjoying a day with their kids. Ann Margaret’s youngest baby Julia was being babysat, so they had more time to spend with Shaun and Abi.
When we were leaving Abi hugged me and said “Can you buy me a boat Aunty Janey?” I just laughed and promised I would teach her to swim so she doesn’t need a boat in future.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Goats do things to sheep…I saw it with my own eyes!
We were passing a field the other day and there was a goat sucking on a sheep’s teats, well I hope that’s what it was doing, I hope I never witnessed sheep rape, I am not sure if it was a female sheep-anyway the sheep was trying to get away and goat was really insistent. Yuk.
Whilst on that theme of wild life and sex, my daughter once had to sit exams in her old school church and in the middle of the exam a pigeon starting screaming around the rafters as a male pigeon tried to pin it down for sex!
There were feathers and dust flying all around the place and my daughter complained that she couldn’t concentrate on her maths exam as pigeon rape took place!
I am sure many people here recall back in their childhood seeing two dogs stuck together at the ass and women would come out and throw buckets of water over them. I used to think it was like the ‘pushmi-pullyu’Llama from the Doctor Doolittle stories.
I think I am all out of animal sex stories for now.
I had to go on the phone for nearly an hour tonight talking with a journalist as Ashley and I are featured in the Sunday Times Ecosse section next Sunday; it’s about mothers and their daughters. I hope I came across ok.
Glasgow was hot today, well not to start with, we had hail stones as big as pebbles then the sun came out.
Four seasons in one day!
Whilst on that theme of wild life and sex, my daughter once had to sit exams in her old school church and in the middle of the exam a pigeon starting screaming around the rafters as a male pigeon tried to pin it down for sex!
There were feathers and dust flying all around the place and my daughter complained that she couldn’t concentrate on her maths exam as pigeon rape took place!
I am sure many people here recall back in their childhood seeing two dogs stuck together at the ass and women would come out and throw buckets of water over them. I used to think it was like the ‘pushmi-pullyu’Llama from the Doctor Doolittle stories.
I think I am all out of animal sex stories for now.
I had to go on the phone for nearly an hour tonight talking with a journalist as Ashley and I are featured in the Sunday Times Ecosse section next Sunday; it’s about mothers and their daughters. I hope I came across ok.
Glasgow was hot today, well not to start with, we had hail stones as big as pebbles then the sun came out.
Four seasons in one day!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Beach time again…
Husband, Ashley and I went out to Balmaha beach on Loch Lomond. It is very nice but there are too many dogs running around shitting everywhere, despite a ‘dogs on leads only’ notice up in the car park.
The stony beach overlooks the east side of Loch Lomond and it can be a peaceful place at times, but not today.
I was surprised to see many young girls as old as eight, nine or ten running around naked as their parents sat and watched them play on the busy shore. I kept averting my eyes incase I looked like a pervert that likes watching naked females play in the surf.
I am not being stuffy here but how hard is it to cover up little girls developing bodies?
I wish we lived in a society that has no inhibitions about naked kids….but fucksake dear parents shoot yourself in the face, people have camera phones and access to the internet and we all know the consequences of that equation.
Only recently we have had to deal with the barrage of publicity of that wee McCann girl being abducted from her holiday villa, people snatch kids and usually girls.
Well at least the naked girl’s parents were sitting close and not dining out of reach of their kids like the McCann family, who I think need a good kick in the bollocks for leaving their three small kids unattended.
Anyway lest I rant about the negligent McCann family, I did have a decent day at the beach.
We stopped at the Carbeth Inn on the way home and Ashley remarked about the sheer amount of fat baldy bikers and asked “I wonder what the ratio of hair loss to bikers is?” and that made me laugh.
Life is ok; we are all waiting patiently on our move to Edinburgh in August for the Fringe 2007. I am gathering amazing guests for my chat show and my new comedy show ‘Tell It Like It Is’ is all good to go.
Do come along if you are in the area, would be nice to see you all!
The stony beach overlooks the east side of Loch Lomond and it can be a peaceful place at times, but not today.
I was surprised to see many young girls as old as eight, nine or ten running around naked as their parents sat and watched them play on the busy shore. I kept averting my eyes incase I looked like a pervert that likes watching naked females play in the surf.
I am not being stuffy here but how hard is it to cover up little girls developing bodies?
I wish we lived in a society that has no inhibitions about naked kids….but fucksake dear parents shoot yourself in the face, people have camera phones and access to the internet and we all know the consequences of that equation.
Only recently we have had to deal with the barrage of publicity of that wee McCann girl being abducted from her holiday villa, people snatch kids and usually girls.
Well at least the naked girl’s parents were sitting close and not dining out of reach of their kids like the McCann family, who I think need a good kick in the bollocks for leaving their three small kids unattended.
Anyway lest I rant about the negligent McCann family, I did have a decent day at the beach.
We stopped at the Carbeth Inn on the way home and Ashley remarked about the sheer amount of fat baldy bikers and asked “I wonder what the ratio of hair loss to bikers is?” and that made me laugh.
Life is ok; we are all waiting patiently on our move to Edinburgh in August for the Fringe 2007. I am gathering amazing guests for my chat show and my new comedy show ‘Tell It Like It Is’ is all good to go.
Do come along if you are in the area, would be nice to see you all!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
I am panicking about age again…
Yes I am becoming obsessed with this subject matter. I woke up this morning and panicked as I realised I am nearly 50…well I am 46 and that’s fucking close enough.
I recall the 80s like it was yesterday, I can tell you what I wore, who I voted, how I felt and what music I liked and that was 25 years ago!
It felt last month not decades ago!
I can’t believe I am this age, I have only one marker or example to go by and that’s my mammy and she was murdered at 47. She was really old at my age. She was wrinkly, had no teeth, cared nothing about what she wore and had absolutely no ambition, she accepted her child bearing days were done and that she was just a granny with no future!
I think my life is just beginning now that my daughter is an adult, I can travel more, I can explore my own ambitions and I can start to be me again after the hiatus of motherhood. Well that’s the plan!
Talking of travel I am just back from London having done my first Edinburgh preview show at the Arts Depot in North London. I decided to stay at the Groucho club overnight as it was nice and central. The place is awesome and I love the Groucho, but at 5.30am I was sharply awoken by the noise of hundreds of bottles being smashed in the backyards of Soho as the recycling truck came round. The noise was ear shattering! I could not believe anyone or anything could make that much noise so early! Fuck the planet and let me sleep!
So here I am back in Glasgow and its Saturday. I have woken up scared I am nearly 50 and scared I will be too old too quick. I want my life back to live all over again and this time I promise, I won’t get married too young, I won’t spend 15 years in a shitty bar and I will make sure I find a way to go to America and screw Brad Pitt!
I recall the 80s like it was yesterday, I can tell you what I wore, who I voted, how I felt and what music I liked and that was 25 years ago!
It felt last month not decades ago!
I can’t believe I am this age, I have only one marker or example to go by and that’s my mammy and she was murdered at 47. She was really old at my age. She was wrinkly, had no teeth, cared nothing about what she wore and had absolutely no ambition, she accepted her child bearing days were done and that she was just a granny with no future!
I think my life is just beginning now that my daughter is an adult, I can travel more, I can explore my own ambitions and I can start to be me again after the hiatus of motherhood. Well that’s the plan!
Talking of travel I am just back from London having done my first Edinburgh preview show at the Arts Depot in North London. I decided to stay at the Groucho club overnight as it was nice and central. The place is awesome and I love the Groucho, but at 5.30am I was sharply awoken by the noise of hundreds of bottles being smashed in the backyards of Soho as the recycling truck came round. The noise was ear shattering! I could not believe anyone or anything could make that much noise so early! Fuck the planet and let me sleep!
So here I am back in Glasgow and its Saturday. I have woken up scared I am nearly 50 and scared I will be too old too quick. I want my life back to live all over again and this time I promise, I won’t get married too young, I won’t spend 15 years in a shitty bar and I will make sure I find a way to go to America and screw Brad Pitt!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Gulls must die…
My bed is directly beneath my window in our bedroom and we always have the window tilted open. This morning I woke up with screaming and screeching in my ear, I leapt to the floor and ran to the door when husband shouted “Its ok it’s a gull outside, not Ashley”
I fell on the bed in a state of fear, in my sleepiness I thought it was my daughter screaming from her room. So gulls must die.
Like I need more noisy things to frighten me on my sleep? No.
I am still getting everything organised for the Edinburgh fringe. Tomorrow I go to London to do my first preview of the show ‘Tell It Like It Is’ which will run throughout the fringe at the Pleasance venue and I will be doing a chat show at the Green Room also.
Two shows a day is good, it keeps me busy and makes me work hard which I love to bits.
Ashley is doing a play called the Guid Sisters and it will be awesome to see her onstage, I can’t wait, she is such a good actress.
Husband isn’t looking forward to any of it, he isn’t into the Fringe the way we are.
I on the other hand love it, three weeks of performing nightly is so up my street like you cannot believe!
Yesterday I went over to see Shaun, my wee nephew and he is now ten years old. He is getting tall and funny, he asked me if he could come over to my house for the night, but I had to tell him that Ashley has her period and may claw him like a tiger as she is very grumpy today…this confused a wee ten year old boy, so its just as well he is getting sex education at school soon as he lives with three females and he better get up to speed soon.
I said to him “One day the word ‘ovulating’ is going to mean so much to you”
He didn’t understand but he will…one day…
Poor wee man.
I am sure he will catch on soon enough and learn to build a safety bunker in the basement with food supplies and drinking water so he can avoid the rampaging hormonal Amazonian Scottish women that roam is house whilst ovulating.]
Meanwhile I am going to make Ashley a hot water bottle…maybe it was her screams I heard this morning?
I fell on the bed in a state of fear, in my sleepiness I thought it was my daughter screaming from her room. So gulls must die.
Like I need more noisy things to frighten me on my sleep? No.
I am still getting everything organised for the Edinburgh fringe. Tomorrow I go to London to do my first preview of the show ‘Tell It Like It Is’ which will run throughout the fringe at the Pleasance venue and I will be doing a chat show at the Green Room also.
Two shows a day is good, it keeps me busy and makes me work hard which I love to bits.
Ashley is doing a play called the Guid Sisters and it will be awesome to see her onstage, I can’t wait, she is such a good actress.
Husband isn’t looking forward to any of it, he isn’t into the Fringe the way we are.
I on the other hand love it, three weeks of performing nightly is so up my street like you cannot believe!
Yesterday I went over to see Shaun, my wee nephew and he is now ten years old. He is getting tall and funny, he asked me if he could come over to my house for the night, but I had to tell him that Ashley has her period and may claw him like a tiger as she is very grumpy today…this confused a wee ten year old boy, so its just as well he is getting sex education at school soon as he lives with three females and he better get up to speed soon.
I said to him “One day the word ‘ovulating’ is going to mean so much to you”
He didn’t understand but he will…one day…
Poor wee man.
I am sure he will catch on soon enough and learn to build a safety bunker in the basement with food supplies and drinking water so he can avoid the rampaging hormonal Amazonian Scottish women that roam is house whilst ovulating.]
Meanwhile I am going to make Ashley a hot water bottle…maybe it was her screams I heard this morning?
Monday, July 09, 2007
Surreal Dreams…
I have been having the strangest dreams lately. One took me back in time to 1974. I saw myself in a mirror in the dream and I recognised myself as a teenager back I in those days…it was really odd.
I forgot how small and curly haired I looked. The strange thing was, I was 46 inside my head and aghast at being transported back in time. The other surreal thing was people were using mobile phones in 1974 in my dream and I was cross at this obvious mistake. It was wrong and it really annoyed me, I went around telling my childhood friends in the dream that ‘Mobile phones weren’t invented in the early 70s’ and they all laughed in my face.
There were two small boys in the dream whose father was about to take them to a custody hearing and it was really stressful for them. For some reason I tried to console them and eventually came up with the bright idea to take them with me and we would all run away together.
So we started running and running and my legs felt like the wind and we all ran past this shallow pond and I looked into the pond and saw what I thought was a dead baby but actually was a doll floating in the water. I recall thinking at the time in the dream…‘That’s odd I thought that would be a dead baby as I normally see dead people in my dreams!’
Anyway I kept running and I knew the people were chasing us to bring back the two custody kids and when I turned to see how they were managing in the race I noticed they had given up and let themselves be caught.
I was so angry that they had given up so I started shouting “Run, just keep running don’t let them catch you” and that’s when my husband woke me up. He told me I was thrashing about and screaming “Run!”
My head was all foggy after that and I realised I had only been asleep for twenty minutes nap in the early afternoon. I had to get up and get ready to go host a comedy show at Edinburgh Jongleurs.
All night my head was thick and fucked up and I thought I would have a bad show, but it turned out to be alright. I had a great time onstage.
Life is weird and my dreams are odd…but I thought I would tell a surreal dream today.
I forgot how small and curly haired I looked. The strange thing was, I was 46 inside my head and aghast at being transported back in time. The other surreal thing was people were using mobile phones in 1974 in my dream and I was cross at this obvious mistake. It was wrong and it really annoyed me, I went around telling my childhood friends in the dream that ‘Mobile phones weren’t invented in the early 70s’ and they all laughed in my face.
There were two small boys in the dream whose father was about to take them to a custody hearing and it was really stressful for them. For some reason I tried to console them and eventually came up with the bright idea to take them with me and we would all run away together.
So we started running and running and my legs felt like the wind and we all ran past this shallow pond and I looked into the pond and saw what I thought was a dead baby but actually was a doll floating in the water. I recall thinking at the time in the dream…‘That’s odd I thought that would be a dead baby as I normally see dead people in my dreams!’
Anyway I kept running and I knew the people were chasing us to bring back the two custody kids and when I turned to see how they were managing in the race I noticed they had given up and let themselves be caught.
I was so angry that they had given up so I started shouting “Run, just keep running don’t let them catch you” and that’s when my husband woke me up. He told me I was thrashing about and screaming “Run!”
My head was all foggy after that and I realised I had only been asleep for twenty minutes nap in the early afternoon. I had to get up and get ready to go host a comedy show at Edinburgh Jongleurs.
All night my head was thick and fucked up and I thought I would have a bad show, but it turned out to be alright. I had a great time onstage.
Life is weird and my dreams are odd…but I thought I would tell a surreal dream today.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Getting Old…
I am nearly very old and I feel it, I am 46 now and truly that is old for being a stand up comic, all the other comics who are female are mostly young and sexy. I know I am old because…
1) I actually use the handles on my bath and now stick my feet onto the bath non slip surface to get a good purchase grip when getting out. When I was young, those rough patches on the bath annoyed me and I hated cleaning them, now I keep them rough with a pumice stone.
2) When I try to tie my hair up with a clasp, the stretch hurts my under arms.
3) There are grey eyebrows appearing and there is one long grey ‘Witches Hair’ growing out of my chin.
4) My knee makes a strange squeaky noise when I climb the stairs.
5) Sex exhausts me for all the wrong reasons.
6) A multiple orgasm may induce a stroke, so I avoid them at all costs and concentrate on flower arranging during any sexual contact.
7) I almost peed when I sneezed last week.
8) There is a big brown freckle on my hand that may look like a liver spot that old people get.
9) The young guys in the street don’t offer me free flyers to get into sexy night clubs; in fact they offer to help me with my shopping bags.
10) Old women on the bus turn to me to chat about the weather and expect an answer; don’t they know I still fancy 50 Cent?
11) I know all the words to Rappers Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang and can recall the exact day in October 1979 when rap first burst onto our airwaves through the radio.
12) I can recall live pictures from the Vietnam War on the BBC News.
13) When I dance, people snigger and listen for my hips snapping.
14) Old men with smelly jackets and tufty hair, ask me for my phone number and use the chat up line “Did we meet at the bingo?”
15) I wear socks to bed and no longer choose underwear for sex value, preferring cotton and easy wash attributes, I used to wear uncomfortable bright sexy lacy gear.
16) My baby niece Abi asked me if I had owned a Penny Farthing bike which we saw in a museum last month.
17) My nephew Shawn wanted to buy me a shopping trolley with wheels for my birthday, because he worries that the weight may hurt my arms.
Life is over for me….please please 50 Cent come get me before it’s all too late for me to bend.
1) I actually use the handles on my bath and now stick my feet onto the bath non slip surface to get a good purchase grip when getting out. When I was young, those rough patches on the bath annoyed me and I hated cleaning them, now I keep them rough with a pumice stone.
2) When I try to tie my hair up with a clasp, the stretch hurts my under arms.
3) There are grey eyebrows appearing and there is one long grey ‘Witches Hair’ growing out of my chin.
4) My knee makes a strange squeaky noise when I climb the stairs.
5) Sex exhausts me for all the wrong reasons.
6) A multiple orgasm may induce a stroke, so I avoid them at all costs and concentrate on flower arranging during any sexual contact.
7) I almost peed when I sneezed last week.
8) There is a big brown freckle on my hand that may look like a liver spot that old people get.
9) The young guys in the street don’t offer me free flyers to get into sexy night clubs; in fact they offer to help me with my shopping bags.
10) Old women on the bus turn to me to chat about the weather and expect an answer; don’t they know I still fancy 50 Cent?
11) I know all the words to Rappers Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang and can recall the exact day in October 1979 when rap first burst onto our airwaves through the radio.
12) I can recall live pictures from the Vietnam War on the BBC News.
13) When I dance, people snigger and listen for my hips snapping.
14) Old men with smelly jackets and tufty hair, ask me for my phone number and use the chat up line “Did we meet at the bingo?”
15) I wear socks to bed and no longer choose underwear for sex value, preferring cotton and easy wash attributes, I used to wear uncomfortable bright sexy lacy gear.
16) My baby niece Abi asked me if I had owned a Penny Farthing bike which we saw in a museum last month.
17) My nephew Shawn wanted to buy me a shopping trolley with wheels for my birthday, because he worries that the weight may hurt my arms.
Life is over for me….please please 50 Cent come get me before it’s all too late for me to bend.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
New Fringe poster for the Edinburgh Festival 2007
This is my new Fringe poster for the Edinburgh Festival 2007 JANEY GODLEY –
JANEY GODLEY'S CHAT SHOW 2nd-26th August - 5.00pm at The Green Room
The Green Room, 37 Guthrie Street, Edinburgh EH1 1JG
www.janeygodley.co.uk/fringe2007
Thanks Janey Godley
Friday, July 06, 2007
Trust me I am a doctor…
Is Dr Who going to be the only doctor from lands afar that we can now depend on? The latest news that terrorist cells are being established through the NHS with Pakistani/ Indian originated doctors in the UK is horrifying.
Is Locum a new word for bomb?
We have thousands of Asian doctors in Glasgow and they have always been very well respected. People in Scotland trust medical staff, its how we were raised as kids.
We in the UK always assumed that fundamentalist terrorist groups were made up of uneducated disenfranchised Muslims who needed something to believe in and would go to the lengths of killing themselves and innocent others to prove their point.
Now we know that middle classed educated doctors and medical staff is actually the people behind the latest attacks in the UK and that stuns me.
I live within a huge Muslim community in Glasgow, its great to have diversity. I have noticed changes lately. For instance the sheer amount of guys going to the Mosque in full white robes and long beards, no longer a staple for the older Islamists is growing.
Now the younger guys who used to dress in jeans are fully robed and growing beards.
That doesn’t mean they are terrorists! I am not that bloody naïve, but I have never seen so many younger men in the white with beards as I have before.
I am a comedian and a people watcher, these things I notice.
I used to love watching the diverse mix of young hip Asians getting out of the fancy cars, music booming, dressed like pale rappers and walking to the Mosque to join their elders and shake hands and acknowledge each other in the street.
Now there are less of them and that’s just how it is.
I love living near the Mosque, it is right across from a Church and near and Chapel.
Watching the mix of religious worshipers is interesting for me.
The sheer amount of Afro/Caribbean food shops mixed with Asian shops that sell jewellery, fabrics and beauty products are wonderful in the West End of Glasgow.
That’s what I love the most about living here; we never had that in the East End.
I hate the suspicion that is beginning to grow in my community.
I saw two men come out of a pub yesterday and shout at the guys going to the Mosque. That isn’t helpful.
I have no idea what the government is going to do about our National Health Service being the bedrock for terrorism; I hope it gets sorted out.
The last thing we need is racial attacks on the hard working Muslims that live here and love being Scottish.
Is Locum a new word for bomb?
We have thousands of Asian doctors in Glasgow and they have always been very well respected. People in Scotland trust medical staff, its how we were raised as kids.
We in the UK always assumed that fundamentalist terrorist groups were made up of uneducated disenfranchised Muslims who needed something to believe in and would go to the lengths of killing themselves and innocent others to prove their point.
Now we know that middle classed educated doctors and medical staff is actually the people behind the latest attacks in the UK and that stuns me.
I live within a huge Muslim community in Glasgow, its great to have diversity. I have noticed changes lately. For instance the sheer amount of guys going to the Mosque in full white robes and long beards, no longer a staple for the older Islamists is growing.
Now the younger guys who used to dress in jeans are fully robed and growing beards.
That doesn’t mean they are terrorists! I am not that bloody naïve, but I have never seen so many younger men in the white with beards as I have before.
I am a comedian and a people watcher, these things I notice.
I used to love watching the diverse mix of young hip Asians getting out of the fancy cars, music booming, dressed like pale rappers and walking to the Mosque to join their elders and shake hands and acknowledge each other in the street.
Now there are less of them and that’s just how it is.
I love living near the Mosque, it is right across from a Church and near and Chapel.
Watching the mix of religious worshipers is interesting for me.
The sheer amount of Afro/Caribbean food shops mixed with Asian shops that sell jewellery, fabrics and beauty products are wonderful in the West End of Glasgow.
That’s what I love the most about living here; we never had that in the East End.
I hate the suspicion that is beginning to grow in my community.
I saw two men come out of a pub yesterday and shout at the guys going to the Mosque. That isn’t helpful.
I have no idea what the government is going to do about our National Health Service being the bedrock for terrorism; I hope it gets sorted out.
The last thing we need is racial attacks on the hard working Muslims that live here and love being Scottish.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I am a bad Mother…
Things are making me crazy lately; I always get freaked out this time of year as I prepare to go to the Edinburgh Fringe. The organisation alone makes me feel like I have to be one of those mystical Hindu Gods with seventeen arms and possibly two heads. Luckily I do have help, but I still worry sick about the tiny details.
To make matters worse my daughter Ashley told me that whenever she does anything wrong she worries incessantly that I will be so disappointed with her and she tries not to tell me stuff and instead tells her dad. That makes me feel bad so we talked about it.
Am I that judgmental? Am I that scary?
So we discussed, when we were in Glastonbury Ashley unfolded a small pop up tent we bought as an addition to the big tent as we decided that because we never had a car to store luggage- a pop up tent was the answer to our problems…anyway Ashley popped up the tent and then promptly snapped it broke within two seconds of it opening.
I apparently sighed loudly…so loudly…she felt terrible about her mistake and used this incident as an example of my overwhelming disappointment at her.
I was astounded at her saying this, I did sigh loudly, I was fucked off she broke the thing within three seconds of opening it…but then I immediately assured her that it was all ok. The most important thing was to get it up and get the luggage inside as we were being flooded.
But that didn’t count…I sighed…and she felt crushed.
I have no idea how to fix this issue, I have told her that no matter what she does – she must tell me, I will be disappointed BUT I will lie, cheat and even kill to protect her and would do so willingly.
Being a mother is hard.
Husband is exempt from this psychological torture, he apparently doesn’t care what she does and reassures her that all is well and she can tell him anything. Does that make me Hitler?
My reckoning is this…husband has disappointed me so much in life and is used to making mistakes so Ashley and he have an empathy that I don’t.
I am wrong aren’t I?
I make loads of mistakes and I talk about them and discuss where and why I went wrong. I am sure I disappoint loads of people but I cant do everything right every time and I explained this to Ashley. I am not always disappointed in her, I am allowed to be either annoyed or shocked at something she did, but I will always stand by her.
I think somewhere along the line I have damaged her and I feel bad.
To make matters worse my daughter Ashley told me that whenever she does anything wrong she worries incessantly that I will be so disappointed with her and she tries not to tell me stuff and instead tells her dad. That makes me feel bad so we talked about it.
Am I that judgmental? Am I that scary?
So we discussed, when we were in Glastonbury Ashley unfolded a small pop up tent we bought as an addition to the big tent as we decided that because we never had a car to store luggage- a pop up tent was the answer to our problems…anyway Ashley popped up the tent and then promptly snapped it broke within two seconds of it opening.
I apparently sighed loudly…so loudly…she felt terrible about her mistake and used this incident as an example of my overwhelming disappointment at her.
I was astounded at her saying this, I did sigh loudly, I was fucked off she broke the thing within three seconds of opening it…but then I immediately assured her that it was all ok. The most important thing was to get it up and get the luggage inside as we were being flooded.
But that didn’t count…I sighed…and she felt crushed.
I have no idea how to fix this issue, I have told her that no matter what she does – she must tell me, I will be disappointed BUT I will lie, cheat and even kill to protect her and would do so willingly.
Being a mother is hard.
Husband is exempt from this psychological torture, he apparently doesn’t care what she does and reassures her that all is well and she can tell him anything. Does that make me Hitler?
My reckoning is this…husband has disappointed me so much in life and is used to making mistakes so Ashley and he have an empathy that I don’t.
I am wrong aren’t I?
I make loads of mistakes and I talk about them and discuss where and why I went wrong. I am sure I disappoint loads of people but I cant do everything right every time and I explained this to Ashley. I am not always disappointed in her, I am allowed to be either annoyed or shocked at something she did, but I will always stand by her.
I think somewhere along the line I have damaged her and I feel bad.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Terrorist Attack on Glasgow…
Am sitting in Leeds chatting on the phone to my daughter Ashley, she was still in Glasgow and it was late afternoon on Saturday. She then told me that Glasgow had just had a terrorist attack. Two Asian men had rammed a Cherokee Jeep into the front of Glasgow Airport. This was on the same day as two car bomb attacks had failed to ignite in London.
I immediately switched on the BBC news channel.
The engine had exploded on impact, and then they ran out and started to throw petrol onto the flames.
What they really under estimated was Glasgow’s fierce winds; the fucking petrol and flames blew back and set fire to their heads. Then the police and Scottish bystanders ran around the place looking for the terrorists…erm…excuse me I think you will find that the two people with their hair on fire, screaming Allah may be the people you are looking for!
What amazed me and made me laugh my ass off was the Scottish stoic attitude to the first Al Qaeda attack on our soil.
Glaswegians were all over the BBC news talking calmly about the scary event. For instance, when the BBC reporter asked what had happened the wee old man actually said live on the worlds news.
“Well, two P.P...(Almost saying the word Paki which is horribly offensive) Asian fellows came running towards me, their hair was on fire, I fought in the war son, so I kicked one of them to the ground and the rain never stopped once, I cannae believe this rain in June can you? I suppose that’s my flight to Magaluf fucked then eh? ”
I sat in Leeds and pissed myself laughing, you see Glaswegian people don’t understand Muslim terrorists, they keep asking “Are they Catholic or Protestant Muslims?” We only understand sectarianism, after years of IRA and UDA fighting all over the UK, we really have only got our heads around that!
We just cannot believe it has happened as we just don’t understand it at all especially as all the events of terror that day had failed. I think they may be the Provisional Al Qaeda; these people aren’t very good at their job. Also it is the first time the apparent fundamentalists haven’t attempted suicide in their attacks. So it’s all very odd and hap hazard to be honest.
The other strange and funny thing is the UK police are calling the police investigation ‘Operation Cobra’ which is so fucking funny as ‘Cobra’ is a famous Asian/Indian Beer here in the UK. It’s like saying we will call our operation after a beer that you guys make but shouldn’t be allowed to drink if you are true to your religion!
I am not scared anymore, I am Scottish and more worried that some drug addled fuck wit will rob me of my purse.
I immediately switched on the BBC news channel.
The engine had exploded on impact, and then they ran out and started to throw petrol onto the flames.
What they really under estimated was Glasgow’s fierce winds; the fucking petrol and flames blew back and set fire to their heads. Then the police and Scottish bystanders ran around the place looking for the terrorists…erm…excuse me I think you will find that the two people with their hair on fire, screaming Allah may be the people you are looking for!
What amazed me and made me laugh my ass off was the Scottish stoic attitude to the first Al Qaeda attack on our soil.
Glaswegians were all over the BBC news talking calmly about the scary event. For instance, when the BBC reporter asked what had happened the wee old man actually said live on the worlds news.
“Well, two P.P...(Almost saying the word Paki which is horribly offensive) Asian fellows came running towards me, their hair was on fire, I fought in the war son, so I kicked one of them to the ground and the rain never stopped once, I cannae believe this rain in June can you? I suppose that’s my flight to Magaluf fucked then eh? ”
I sat in Leeds and pissed myself laughing, you see Glaswegian people don’t understand Muslim terrorists, they keep asking “Are they Catholic or Protestant Muslims?” We only understand sectarianism, after years of IRA and UDA fighting all over the UK, we really have only got our heads around that!
We just cannot believe it has happened as we just don’t understand it at all especially as all the events of terror that day had failed. I think they may be the Provisional Al Qaeda; these people aren’t very good at their job. Also it is the first time the apparent fundamentalists haven’t attempted suicide in their attacks. So it’s all very odd and hap hazard to be honest.
The other strange and funny thing is the UK police are calling the police investigation ‘Operation Cobra’ which is so fucking funny as ‘Cobra’ is a famous Asian/Indian Beer here in the UK. It’s like saying we will call our operation after a beer that you guys make but shouldn’t be allowed to drink if you are true to your religion!
I am not scared anymore, I am Scottish and more worried that some drug addled fuck wit will rob me of my purse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
