who would have thought???..........

The strangest thing happened to me this week. The WB told me that I have to go to a work ‘do’, well one of two possible events, one beginning at normal evening time and one being the after show and beginning at 10.30pm. Hmmmm.

I had the obvious reaction......“I don’t want to go” and “I’’ve got nothing to wear”. They did not go down well. WB is insisting. However, i do have a life line in that there may not be a ticket for me.

Either way, the strangest thing happened to me this week. Following on from the I’ve got nothing to wear but may have to go, i immediately began thinking of an outfit!!!!! My Madrid pants have only been worn twice so all I have to do is buy some shoes. Out of the blue and against all odds, I decided to get some heels. Absolutely determined to succeed I rushed to Oxford Street and scoured the shops for a pair of shoes. While searching I finally began to understand some women’s obsession for shoes and I found myself determined to fall in love with a pair (oh my God!!). Alas it didn’t happen for me tonight but I did find a pair that were comfortable and that I’m happy with. Plus when you put them on they tilt your hips forward into a kitten-like position. I am compulsed to walk like a model.

Cat has given me some purple nail varnish and here is the world wide exclusive of my new look................



Obviously I’m still trying to get of said do but for those who know me don't worry you can see my new look on Friday cos hurrah shark is here then...............

oi, noisy neighbours

Hear my roar.

I suppose that it’s now a little obvious that I had to go and see the tossers living below me last night because of their infernal racket. At approximately 10.45 the old acoustic guitars came out, 2 of them I think. I carried on reading and duly inserted my earplugs but to no avail. They weren’t gently strumming Stairway to Heaven, they were belting out nauseating tunes and whacking their guitars, stamping their feet on the wooden floor and about 8 of them were belting their lungs out. Bearing in mind that I’ve been up everyday at either 7.30 or 7.45 for the decorators, that I had to be up for 8am this morning for the roofers, that the decorators and lack of sunshine had plunged me into a deep depression that I’m still climbing out of and that hanging about waiting for the decorators to knock on the door is a little tedious, I just wasn’t in the mood for a night of stress and no sleep. They were so loud that they couldn’t hear me smashing my hammer on my futon bass, something I do more gently sometimes to hint that I'm unhappy with the noise. As I was in my PJs and I had no make up on, and because by this point it was 11.45, I just didn’t want to go down there. A quick look out the window revealed that there were 2 visiting cars, so there was a crowd settled in for a long night of noise. However, I was determined to put a stop to it promptly. It’s too depressing listening to it all night and I have rights. So, I looked for a slip of paper with their phone number on and I rang it. No response. On putting away the piece of paper I noticed it was a 2-year-old warning for a birthday party, dated 26 Feb. I experienced instant horror on reading that. And instant reaction. I went down there and rang the doorbell and told the bloke who answered it that I’d be calling the council in 10 minutes if the racket didn’t stop. Don’t forget they gave me 4 hours notice for their last party. They carried on singing and playing music, but at a reasonable level, so it did not end in violence although I fear that it will eventually.

I lulled myself to sleep with pretty thoughts so I was up in time for the roofers (who were all done in 15 minutes as the scaffolding was up) and still managed to go for a jog before college. Although I learned nothing today. After all the other classes if I thought that my work was rubbish I tried again at home. But a few of us today secretly agreed that we’d never look at today’s work again. Collage in mixed media. But next week we are painting so hurrah!!!! I had hung the 2 pieces that I showed you all on the wall and Sir said that they were good and that I should experiment in that format a little. I agree ink is tonnes of fun.

He was holding court today with outrageous, but true, stories of an art gallery beginning with W fleecing artists. I told Sir by the by that I used to work for the Press Office for the Hayward Gallery. Oh he was thrilled and thoroughly grilled me. I told him about the critics and the artist that I had met and he even offered me work doing PR on his forthcoming exhibition. I forget sometimes that I have lived a whole lifetime already and that I’ve spent the last 12 years in jobs that most people don’t even know exist. But I remembered it today when I got some really very filthy looks from some of the students. This was compounded when Sir asked me what I did now. I could feel the pins entering my body all over and I quickly packed my things and left.

yrs concerned of dullhill

I’ve always been a little concerned about jimbob’s penchant for links and now it looks like it’s catching and I fear for the shark.

day 5

Oh how nice. 8am and both workers are here. It’s currently not raining so they are scrapping the woodwork out the back. The rainbow maker has just burst into action and for the first time all week I can see the sun.

9am The scaffolders are back but are sitting outside the house in their lorry.

9.10am The lads have started putting the scaff up.

9.20am I haven’t been able to use my kitchen window ever, that’s 10 years as it sticks at the bottom and needs a giant yank to shut it. Seeing as it’s a huge pane of glass with rotten beading and putty holding it together, I’ve never wanted to risk it landing on the neighbour’s conservatory. Ivan, my new NOT LAZY worker has kindly sorted the situation with my mini planer. It’s going to be bliss being able to open and shut that window.

On the downside, I disturbed approx 9 or 10 sleeping ladybirds when I opened the window. They really do not like being disturbed.

10am Tea break. An industrious time for the robins and blue tits. Now it can take years to train birds to come to your feeders. I have waited at least 1 ½ years to see as much activity as I have and I’ve been really nervous all morning that the noise and activity from the workers would scare my birds away. The work is taking place on top of their feeders. Literally. But I must either have very brave birds or conditions are such that they simply cannot be so timid. They are feeding away and using the scaffold tower as a great big tree.

brett's filling in (get it?)

I have 1 new worker, who apologised for being 10 minutes late and immediately phoned his gaffer to tell him how to get here. You can forgive em having trouble finding you on the first day. He said that he understood that I had been messed around and said that he’s not like that. He’s a big gentle giant and already mentioned burning the wood back outside. Hurrah. He’s got the muscle for it too. He’s starting on the inside and he going to sand all the woodwork. I told him what the others had said and he didn’t try and tell me that they are right. He ran through the correct technique for sanding. He doesn’t look lazy and I am happy. Let’s hope it lasts.

Fingers crossed.

8.45am I’ve never had 5 young lads turn up on the doorstep at one go…….until today. They are here to put up the scaffolding. If you don’t mind me getting a bit Jodie Marsh for a second, there’s lots of testosterone in the area. For a few hours too as they are scaffing front and back. Not only will I be able to scrape off the paint that’s been on my kitchen windowpane for 8 years (grrrrrr) but I’ll be able to give them a good clean too. But the best thing about the scaffolding being put in is the amount of times we’ve had to ring the neighbour’s bell to get bikes and cars moved. He he he.

10.15am I am typing away to the comforting sound of sanding. The gentle giant tells me I’m going to get an extra special job as I’ve been mucked about. He’s absolutely cursing the blokes who were here before as he can see what they’ve done as he’s becoming intimately acquainted with removing it. He’s sanding while the scaffolding goes up but will save the hallway work for when it’s raining. He tells me his mate is coming around tomorrow and that he’s huge. Excellent, sanding woodwork back is a job for muscles. It’s my very least favourite DIY thing to do.

Oh and I’ve got a man coming around to give me a quote on fixing the loose tile. Fingers crossed it may only cost £65.

11.00am I had to turn a blind eye to one of the lads peeing in the back garden. They’ve been as good as gold and not moaned once about the snow. I forgot to mention that. The Orish fellow moaned about the cold all the time without once putting on a woolie and it did get to me.

11.20am I've just returned from making coffee in the kitchen and it was a little surreal seeing someone at eye level, 1 floor up, especially when he pretended to do a strip tease. Goodness, it’s all so different from Monday and Tuesday.

11.30am Teas and Jaffa Cakes all round for the boys. They are happy.

11.55am it’s all go here. The roofers are coming back on Saturday morning to refit the tile. It’s not cement that’s on the floor; it’s a brick from under the awning. £65 lovely. Brett the gentle giant has banned me from going on the scaffold in case I break my neck. I suppose that I can accept this in a Health & Safety way.

12.35pm Wood filler – I can smell it. It stinks but it’s good to smell it. There’s a proper job going on here now. : o )))))))

1pm Brett told me that he’s named after a cowboy. Cheers Mum he said, great name for a builder.

1.15pm One of the directors has just come around to check on the job. He explained that the previous foreman was the Guvner’s son and that he likes a drink, to get away quick and that it’s happened before. He said in a general chitchat manner that I’ve been lumbered with the supervising job. I’m glad I was, as maybe the others wouldn’t have complained or might not have known that paint isn’t just slapped on. He said that he’s very glad that I complained and I bet the old workers are going to get a rollicking. After 3 days of growing depression I now feel very spoilt. To celebrate I just brought the scaffolding blokes tea, toast and more biscuits.

3pm I’ve been worried about how the activity in the garden will effect the birdies. So, once the scaff men had gone (to return tomorrow for the front of the house) I ran in my bedroom to check. Damn if I didn’t scare 2 of them off. Come back birdies.

3.30pm Brett has just left after a full day’s work and left me feeling like Doris Day in Calamity Jane. Nooowwwwwwwww I shout it from my blog.

BEGINNERS art therapy

OK, I’ve ironed my new work with greaseproof paper and on comparing it to previous weeks work I’m sure there’s a theme. But I can’t tell what it is yet. Whatever it is I hope it makes me seem at least a little interesting.


Experiment in ink


Drawing with (invisible) wax and ink

deccy mate trials v bird watch

I got up at 7.45am for the second morning in a row, giving me an extra 15 minutes in bed. I need all the extra strength that I can get, due to the testing of my patience. But this is more or less a lie in to me. However, it’s now 10am and there’s no sign of the workers. They were due at 8am.

The robins are regular visitors now. We have a whole army of them camped in the back garden at the moment, along with a lot of blue tits. Whereas most of the robins are just pecking warily, one brave one just fed for at least a minute. And another or possible the same one, I don’t know them yet, actually jumped onto my window ledge. So there was only a pane of glass separating us. Cool.

11.15am Woo hoo. A blue tit visited and fed.

11.20am I spied a squirrel on the garden fence, obviously investigating why a whole flock of robins and tits are flying to and from my bedroom window ledge. I’ll have to keep my eye on the situation and make sure they don’t have a route to the booty.

11.30am I rang the decorators firm. Turns out that as it’s wet the workers are not coming today. It would just be nice to know.

12.15pm Right, I have a new supervisor tomorrow at 8am. The first thing that I shall be telling him is that the woodwork needs sanding and if he tries to give me any old baloney I’ll warn him not to and if he persists I’ll ask him to leave. I’m just not in the mood. The scaffolding also arrives tomorrow.

2pm Robins galore. Yahhhooooo.

4pm Just arrived back from a late jog. There were tonnes of starlings gathered together but sadly they didn’t move. Starlings in group flight is so uplifting that I was tempted to run and scare them but that would have been wicked.

i'm a customer get out of here

10am One worker turned up alone, the Irish one, the chancer – I can tell, I’m Irish. I’ve been brooding overnight on the woodwork. I saw one cleverly placed piece of sand paper on the floor but heard no sanding, saw no dust and no evidence of any sanding whatsoever. Which I told him. “Did you actually sand yesterday?” I asked him. “Oh yeah he did a bit it here and there alright”. I made it clear that the standard would need to be better outside. He looked at me like I was mad, which infuriated me. He showed me the spec which said “Spot burn and spot prime where required.” I am looking at a Dulux Specification which came with the quote saying “Burn off or rub down to a solid feathered edge”. I walked off to get the paper, mind ticking over at 100mph.

After mulling it over and realising that I am not being unreasonable and that I’ll regret it forever if I say nothing I’ve asked him to sand again, well to SAND. There is already one coat of paint over the woodwork, so you can tell how quickly they worked. “I’ll be here 2 weeks at that rate.” At which point I, of course, lost my patience. “Look mate, I could do a better job at sanding than this and I know it doesn’t take that long.” I phoned the company and explained exactly what happened. They were surprised that only 1 man turned up and completely agreed with me “Look, I feel like a grass but I just want a good job” I said. “Yes codenamelizzy, that’s what you are paying for”. It was the dream response. He’s having a word.

11.15am The other worker called to let me know that the sanding will be done in between coats. Apparently this is normal practice. This I except but I've never heard of paint being applied before ANY sanding. Normal practice my arse. Wee fellow me ladee here made it more than clear earlier that he thought he had done all the sanding that was required. And it’s only because of my intervention that there will be any sanding at all.

Irish lad can buy his own tea.

I relented and brought him a cup of tea and Hob Nobs at lunchtime, remembering the 2 sugars and to leave the tea bag in. The hallway is coming along great. It was 2 shades of blue before that didn’t go together at all and one was a darkish shade so it was really horrid and gloomy. Now it’s bright and white and coming on lovely. The lower part of the wall, to be painted tomorrow is the same colour as my living room, so it will act as a very grand entrance to my place. Hurrah.

I checked in with bro and yes the first stage of sanding is the most important as it provides a key for the paint. So workmen just don’t try and fob me off with a load of crap. The roof tile needs to be put back in place but should be fine other than that. Phew.

Worker clocked off 3.30pm. Maybe I’ve found my new career?

and bird watch

Wow, after 1 ½ years, finally. There were just 2 robins on my bird feeders. I recently changed to a new exotic mix. They were 1 foot away from my bedroom window.

on behalf of catster

Who gladly is not with us at this time.

Bah Easter. Pah Eggs. Grrrrr Sainsburys. Months away argggghhhhhh.

decorators watch

I got up at 7.30am, on the first day of my weeklong holiday, to make sure that I was decent when the decorators turned up at 8am. It was windy, cloudy and wet but also not raining, quite bright and not too cold. Hard but tolerable working conditions.

8.50am, I’m on my second cup of coffee, I’ve watched the news, read the blogs, sent some hotmails, read my stars but I’ve not answered the door to the workers.

8.55am, I’ve heard from the workers. They are in Richmond having been given the wrong address. I’ve been told not to wait for them, as they don’t know what time they’ll get here.

10am Hurrah they have arrived.

10.02am Boo. While showing them round the back of the flat I noticed lumps of cement on the floor on the path around the side of the house. We looked up and there is a slate loose on the roof. They’re bringing a cherry picker round one day so have agreed to have a look at it for me. They’ve also said that I can have a ride in it and I’m going to try and clean my windows then. Te he.

11.40am They appear quite typical. One is Irish and one is English, tea bag left in, tea bag taken out, 2 sugars each. The Hob Nobs went down well. Daddy told me to always look after the workers.

11.50am They’ve started on the inside as they are waiting for equipment and gear to turn up tomorrow. It looks loads better already and that’s just with an undercoat of white.

2pm I returned from the shops to find my workmen had scarpered. I’m not sure about the quality of the work to date to be honest. I had expected a little more sanding down and filling of holes. I’ll have a word tomorrow.

On the upside I had a chance to raid the local charity shops for book club. There were several of the books that I have recently bought all at 50p. I recently rediscovered charity shops for books and Fopp is great too. Otherwise I think I’d be skint by now, what with the art stuff to buy as well. The standard of the shops varied and bizarrely in the worst one I found a book for 50p that I nearly bought on Saturday for £7.99, only the till wouldn’t accept my card. When I told the girl behind the counter she said “you’re joking?” and she really meant it, and obviously thought the shop was full of crap. There was an awful lot of chic fic (or whatever it’s called), quite a few Di Vinci Codes and tonnes of the second Bridget Jones. Obviously people are reading that dross but are then too embarrassed to have it on their bookshelves.

singing the blues

I visited the folks yesterday and my youngest brother and 2 nephews, so and so high, were there. They live in Colchester and are football crazy. They were down for an extra special trip as somehow my brother had managed to wrangle 3 VIP tickets and dinner at Stanford Bridge for the FA Cup game Chelsea v Colchester.

Imagine their excitement, taking into account that Chelsea had a very rare defeat last weekend and in the FA Cup anything can happen and sometimes it pays to be the under dog. It was the things that dreams are made of when Colchester went ahead at 28 minutes due to an own goal by Carvalho. For 9 minutes they were beating Chelsea at home until Ferreira scored at 37 minutes. And they went into half time at 1-1.

Course Colchester lost 3-1 in the end but they’ll remember today forever innit.

points of view

Dulwich Guardian, dtd 16 February 2006

People power triumphs in bid to keep Herne Hill where it belongs
Proud Herne Hillian’s were celebrating a victory for people power after a council removed signs in the heart of their community welcoming visitors to a neighbouring area.
The protesting group were left baffled when one of four “Welcome to Dulwich” signs was erected outside the top half of Half Moon Lane, Herne Hill.
Southwark Council shelled out £200,000 to put up 47 signs up across the borough to mark their community council boundaries.
But after mounting opposition, the nine “Welcome to Dulwich” signs were removed last Monday, though the masts on which the signs were hung will remain.
Jeff Doorn, secretary of local group the Herne Hill Society, who led a campaign to remove the signs said:
“We are very happy that the signs are being take down. This is a victory for people power.
“Of course we are still hoping the masts will be taken down because they are a blot on the landscape, but we have won something – we have won the first round.”
A council spokeswoman said: “We have listened to the views expressed and agreed to remove the Dulwich community council signs.
“We will be liaising with local residents over what kind of signage they would like to see, and where, in the Dulwich area.”

Adrian Kajumba
akajumba@london.newsquest.co.uk

beginner's 'painting' 5 of 10

Today’s art class started well. We hung last week’s work onto the wall. Well, I hung up the one that I did the day after class due to nearly life ending hangover during class. Sir told the class that I had controlled the colour quite well and explained that if you covered the light blue on both sides by holding your fingers over your eyes the orange springs right out at ya. But if you look at the image as a whole it is flat. Try it. It’s true (actually I'll take another pic in focus and natural day light tomorrow - just trust me till then). Bingo, mission accomplished and not everyone was so lucky with their “Oh look at my fantastically clever and really experimental work”. Ha.

However, it’s not bloody painting is it?

Needless to say we did not paint in today’s 5 out of 10 art class, although we did ‘paint’. Firstly Sir’s male helper (who is an odd mixture of Francis Bacon and The Man Opposite (who had 2 ladies with him during the week!)) did 4 60 second poses. Purely portrait, much to the relief of us all, I think. We drew these on white paper with a wax candle. And we were advised not to tell Sir that we can’t see a thing “cos that’s the bloody point” although every single one of us failed to see that point. We then ‘painted’ over the wax in ink and watercolours. Mine really was shocking, so I grabbed the chance to try again and my second attempt was a little better, but still what was the point?

I have a week off work so maybe I’ll have another stab at it.

the final straw

I saw the Old Boss for quick drinks tonight and I was surprised to find Och Aye McKay among the small gathering. I have not seen him since his comb-over days and I even missed the infamous orange occasion. He may look different but he’s still exactly the same. Anyway, the Old Boss is fine. No missus, as she is unable to travel now due to the developing foetus. He’s staying at a hotel on the South Bank and was horrified when on feeling a little peckish, saw that a cheese and ham croissant was £18 from the room service menu. He really does live in a different world now. It wasn’t until I got out of the pub that I realised I had not smoked a twig, a pen, a cocktail shaker or a straw while supping my vodka. And on leaving the pub I complained that I stunk of smoke. I say.

stupid cupid

Hey hey hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s nowhere near as abhorrent to me as New Year’s Eve but it’s not a favourite of mine either.

I received a ‘mystery’ Valentine card today and I think that I know who it’s from. I won’t name and shame him as I think he reads here from time to time, but I do wonder if I was part of a mass mail-out. Was it a sympathy card, a friendly joke or does he want to get a cab round here now and ravish me?

We all know that I’m no girly, but I am a women (ssh don’t tell) and receiving a Valentine card of this nature sparks off the insanely abnormal and hormonal in me. Every time. What if, could it be, if only and irrational thoughts about He Who Cannot Be Named just appear from nowhere. So mischievous people, it’s not big, it’s not clever and a Valentine is not just for Christmas!!!!! But thanks anyway, honest.

Anyway, I’m a one-man woman. Everyone here knows that I’m Daddy’s little girl. He knows that I’m fiercely independent, that I (think I can) do it all alone and still have time to give the V sign. He laughed his head off last week when I told him that I wished the Feminist movement had never happened. I mean I’m absolutely sick to the back teeth of working. I’ve been at it for over 20 years now. Why can‘t it be like the old days with hubby going out to work and me meddling with my hobbies and picking up the kids from school? Please may I retire? Now?

I’m a bit wistful tonight as a beautiful nearly full moon rises over the roof opposite. It’s been a while since my last Loony Toons but I do have a new one. The exterior of the house is being painted next week. We have the freehold and it’s reawakened thoughts of selling and moving to the seaside. But my new and improved plan, has me going in with a partner who can visit at weekends or when ever they want….as long as they don’t bring smelly people that I hate with them. I’m looking for offers. Sold? Must be male with good income, who turns a blind eye to mania.

Viva NYC

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, I have booked a suite at Madison Shark in NYC for 5 weeks from now and counting. I’ve booked my flight, and I have secured myself a window seat for each leg and I feel ever so clever that I won’t be suffering from nicotine withdrawal on the flights.

Sharky’s pictures of beautiful snow, the sort I haven’t seen since living in Sheffield over 12 years ago, have left me very excited. But now, whereas only 24 hours ago I was hoping for a similar snowfall during my stay, for I too have read Miss Smilla’s Feelings for Snow and had daydreams of navigating my way around Central Park by the touch of the wind on my cheek, the colour of the ice or the incline of a snow slope, and of being stuck there for a little bit, now I’m confronted with the experiment!

I know it’s not the same airline, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Luckily though I’m not easily scared and my biggest worry is actually whether to pack for spring or snow and which Murakami book to read on the plane. In the meantime I’m gemming up with New York reads, Auster (see list) and now Proulx and I’m open for suggestions too. I reckon I could fit 1 maybe 2 more NYC reads before I depart.

The experiment is also likely to deter the shark from anything but travel by water and I fear that Hernewich Hill will be changed beyond all recognition by the time she does visit. The Post Office, nearly opposite the Shark & TH residence, by Sainsbury, is being knocked down and a 4-5 storey building will replace it. Shocking. I also previously neglected to mention the new bakery, which sells about 4 bread rolls. We are so trendy.

Oh my God, the new man in Corry, who I always knew was going to be a baddy, just confessed to Emily Bishop that he killed Ernest all those years ago.

class dismissed

So, with art class number 4 under our belts, there are slight rumblings of “do you think we’ll actually get to paint on this course?” For Saturday’s class we were told to bring 6 sheets of A1 paper to make a 2 or 3 dimensional image on a 1 dimensional space, ie we cut out bits of paper and stuck them onto another. All jolly good clean fun but not what we really want to do. Sure we’re learning more about colour and dimension but I’d rather learn that with a paintbrush in my hand. For next week’s lesson we need to bring a candle and some watercolour paints, if we wish. If we frigging wish? That will be lesson 5 out of 10. We will be half way through the term and we will still not have done a painting. As I have paid £270 for this I just hope that Sir knows what he’s doing, toying with us like this, otherwise I predict a riot.

Mine was absolutely awful and I’m not even fishing for compliments here. I had a terrible hangover and I could barely carry my work, let alone do it. Should it happen again I will have a hair of the dog first. The hangover was courtesy of seeing Goldfrapp on the Friday night. They were brilliant. It was a fantastic night, but unfortunately anything after 9.45pm is a bit of a blur. I remember being flighty, loud, possibly annoying and very popular with the boys and I think maybe that last bit went to my head a little. I’ve had my hair cut, I had my clevage on show and I wore my (18 year old) boots with the 2 inch heels. I got lots of “cors” and lots of “do you always look like this” etc etc. I bumped into my only minor indiscretion of the last year and he looked beautiful. He wanted to take me out to lunch today and for the life of me I cannot understand why I didn’t pick up the phone when he called me last night. Oh yes, it’s because I’m an old bat.

I smoked 5 or 6 straws that night.

Hernewich Hill Watch : a new trendy [?] clothes stop nearly opposite the station

it’s better out than in

Arrrrrrggggghhhhhh. The little shit. Mr I can only repeat anything that requires any intellect in a monotone fashion cos I have to read it from my memory. Mr I read all about it in the Daily Mirror and then repeat it in a parrot fashion without the data going through any thought process at all. Mr Total Lacking in Anything Remotely Resembling Sensitivity.

That told him!

On a more pleasant note, Brixton and HH seem to be coming up in the world. The entrance to Brixton tube is now more like a Foyer area, with piped classical music playing during opening hours. I suspect that this is to deter the undesirables and I have to say that it seems to be working. There wasn’t one person looking to sell or steal a travel card or scrounge fags (not that I would have one – disgusting habit). And we appear to have a trendy barbers in HH, next to the restaurant right by the station.

I say.

So, maybe I could find another world?

foxy

This is the little fella who keeps me up at night during his courting period.

He has one lame leg. When I was coming home once a great big fella cornered me and asked me to walk him 20 metres up the road to his front door. On asking if I was about to be mugged, he said, “No, I’m scared, there’s a big fox up there”.

more pollocks

Tuesday morning was spent at the Old Bailey where I was in support of the Vixen’s appearance as a witness. Ominous bells toll on approaching the area and getting into the witness area involved going through security similar to that of an airport. No matter how many times you check your pockets and bags one can’t help wondering if there’s something that shouldn’t be in there. It’s not a place for those with a guilty conscious. I had expected it to be drafty and full of shadows and creaks but it was all disappointingly modern, with fully equipped communal kitchens, travelling tuck shops and wall-to-wall chavs. Even the barristers were all young, fit and handsome. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Luckily for the Vixen the accused pleaded guilty, meaning that she didn’t have to make the stand (in her borrowed geography teacher outfit). Naturally we scarpered as soon as possible, straight into a pile of cameras and journos waiting outside for him. We pretended that they were paparazzi and that we were famous. Well, our spirits were high at the time. A pub-crawl seemed the logical thing to do and we made our way from the Old Bailey, along to the South Bank for old times sake and ended up in HH for a now traditional win-ding involving the coal fire, disco lighting and a trip to the park with the scooter, blanket and portable bar. We rolled down the hill and hugged some trees but were gutted that the sky was overcast and cloudy. No star gazing ☹.

My new light design, a roaring success. Lights donated by the shark and filters donated by catster.

Wednesday was a tasty chicken dinner at Mummy & Daddy’s where I coped remarkably well, seeing as I’d had bugger all sleep. Thursday saw Richard Hawley in support to the wonderful Nick Cave solo (well only 3 Bad Seeds in tow) show. Nick blazed onto stage as if he had spent the whole of the day with a bottle of bourbon and the rip roaring pace was maintained for the whole show. It was brilliant. The band appear to be having a handle bar moustache competition, while Warren looked like Rasputin. I’m sure that there is a rational explanation for it and I await it with concern. Lady Jane was there along with the beardless one who had a disturbing new page-boy hair cut. So a busy time means that I’m only now recovering from my time with the Vixen. In out out of dozing, there’s nothing that could get me off this couch right now.


This looks a lot better in the flesh. Art class today was my favourite so far. We learned how to stretch paper and experimented with ink. Sir made a point of saying that mine was very good. I told him that I had really enjoyed doing it and got another “good”. Excellent.

yracs

The WB threatened to set me on a few work colleagues.....it's an uncanny likeness of my new fringe look.

While on the horror theme, I am in danger of the sack from the WB due to an unnatural and unhealthy interest, I am hooked on the deranged one’s blog. He’s told me it’s over, it’s last month’s news and that I have to get over it but it’s a riveting read into a mind of delusion and horror.

She hates the tabloids and glossy type magazines (because she cannot get flattering editorial) and warns her blog readers not to read them, in particular The Sun and OK. I don’t think she’ll be appearing in The Sun anytime soon though as “The editor of said rag is a feminist ginger bitch, ugly as sin, who allegedly beats up her own bloke. People, for the thousandth time, don't buy into this garbage. …..I know that to Rebekah Wade (editor of the Sun), Barrymore isn't a threat. Her bloke isn't gonna run off with him and certainly wouldn't look at him in an appreciative way. If I, on the other hand, was given ten minutes on my own in a room with Ross Kemp, I reckon I could give him wet dreams over me forever more. That, my friends is why she won't let any of her staff say anything nice about me and why she won't work with me. I can't wait til she gets fired and a nice Ed takes over. I'll be back on them front pages again and she'll be trying to cling on to her bloke (probably by beating him over the head with a lamp while her new best friend Barrymore takes a dip in her pool with a fan he's met in a club). Ha ha. Let all the scum float round in their cess pit together I say.”

OK she dislikes due to their allegiance with Jordan, well she had the business sense to ban them working with Jodie while they are working with her. This is just one of her Ok magazine tirades “Freaks! Picked it up the other day at a shoot I was doing to have a flick. It was a few weeks old. Two big articles about me in it. One comparing the whole of my life to the whole of Jordan's. Bascially saying that I am copying everything she does. Er... no. One of the things they were "proving" their point with was the fact that I "copied" her brown hair. Actually, we both turned up the same night at the Dukes of Hazzard Premiere with brown hair. I had dyed it a week before that as part of a job for New Woman magazine. Because it was an exclusive deal, I had to wear a blonde wig for a week so that no one else would get the pictures. I certainly didn't copy her as I didn't know til that night that she had died hers brown anyway. Besides that, I was paid to dye it back to it's natural colour. It was a job. Nothing to do with her. Anyway, I didn't read the rest of the article as it was such tripe, I felt that if I carried on reading I would end up wanting to go into their offices and smash the "writer's" head through their computer screen. If I really wanted to be anything like Jordan I would have had a baby by the first rich footballer I could find, I'd get married quick and wear a ridiculous outfit (not to mention sell every single picture of my pregnancy test, hen night, wedding, honeymoon, having a shit, plucking my ear hair etc), I'd make a porno film and pretend it was stolen and I'd lie to the papers every week about stuff like buying a pink aeroplane or whatever, that they would then stupidly lap up as they have nothing real or fruitful to write about.”

The woman is stark raving mad. However, I wait with baited breath for her comments about the latest cover of the magazine.

Bottom left hand corner, SHE WON'T LIKE THAT!