glow sticks are back

On Tuesday night I went to see the Klaxons at Madame Jo Jos. Check out their myspace @ http://www.myspace.com/klaxons. The last time I went there was more than 18 years ago, at least, and the waiters/waitresses were all attractive ladymen with long waxed legs. Or were they? It was all very mysterious. The bar staff now are all Indie kids and I was there on an NME rock night. I was a little disturbed that the toilet had US doors (ref the TERRIBLE picture) but at least the very English tradition of a toilet attendant was upheld. The Ladies, despite being the size of a phone box (remember them) was decked out with Chupa Chupas, Juicy Fruits, various perfumes etc etc. The very kind lady attendant handed me tissues to dry my hands and I gave her £1. I was taken aback when she grabbed me and gave me a hug. Everyone needs a hug and it was the only one I’d had since I left the shark in NYC. It’s distressing that I have to pay for them at the moment but it’s my own fault.

I digress….. the Klaxons were brilliant. Their music is infectious and every tune is up-lifting and impossibly catchy. Their set began with ‘The Bouncer Demo’ which contains the very familiar phrase “Your name’s not down you’re not coming in’. I thought “you’re not over 18 you’re not coming in” was more suitable as the Top Shop clad crowd all had to show their photo ID in order to get in. The Doorman warned the queue that ID would need to be shown. He took one look at my colleague and pointed at him and said “apart from you”. Te he, I gave out a loud chuckle seeing as I’m 10 or 11 years older than him but was not singled out for ridicule. My knicker bockers and baseball boots outfit knocks years off me. I think ‘the kids’ in general are creating a post-rave scene and the Klaxons are involved in this radical movement. There were at least 12 glow sticks on the go and it’s the object to carry if you are a fan. It was an affluent and academic crowd, all very young and pretty. I saw a few Penguin paperbacks. Their latest single is ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ and they have inspired me to read it next. I’ve not read it despite having owned it for 15 years. Yikes. It’s still very much rock and roll though and the guitarist / vocalist proved this right at the end by jumping onto the poor drummer’s kit as a grand finale.

I have always loved glow sticks and I am very pleased that I can now partake of my habit without the sneering.

wot no artclass

It took me some time to adapt back to real life after having had such a ball in NYC and then hitting the road to follow a band. The most notable habit that I picked up in NYC was touching everything with the back of my hand before gripping as the shark and TH have a problem with static in their apartment. Virtually everything gives off a pretty hefty poke of electricity. It’s a routine that paid dividends in the hotels that I subsequently stayed in but I think that I can stop it now. I’ve also returned to my basic, boring, monotonous diet and hence have rediscovered my ribs and waist and I feel confident of a Dave Gahan body by June. Thanks to a jogging route suggested by TH in NYC and the new sign in Brockwell Park giving the distance of the parameter as a measly 2 miles (pah!), I now jog around it twice, with aims of getting higher soon. It’s an absolute pleasure to run at the moment as spring has hit our shores with gusto. But as always, it’s scattered. While I am basking in the sun’s rays, a game of football has been abandoned in Sunderland due to heavy snow and a frosty night with snow has been forecast in Northeast Scotland.

It’s my first Saturday in absolute yonks where I’ve had absolutely nothing to do all day and knowing that I can get stuck into some DIY next weekend, I’m a couch potato today and relishing my football. As usual Mourinho has come up trumps “For me, pressure is bird flu; I am feeling a lot of pressure with the swan in Scotland," revealed Mourinho when asked about the Manchester United manager's attempts to turn the psychological screws on Stamford Bridge.” I managed to summons some energy to switch channels for the Grand National but lost my ante when my horse dragged itself home.

RIP Jane xxx

booooooooo

I was just about to say how much I love the Beeb after finding this and then I found this.

Leave red heads out of it!

suffer well

It’s hard to believe that the lump that has just stirred after a doze on the couch is due to kick-start a health campaign tomorrow. A campaign inspired by Dave Gahan looking like this. Sunday and Monday saw Depeche Mode opening the new Wembley Arena and they rocked again. It’s absolutely unheard of for me to be able to watch the same gig 4 times in one week but these shows rock. ‘Behind the Wheel’ is my current favourite. What a sauce pot. There were after shows on both nights but Monday night was the busiest and I had lots of people to knock about with. James Holden DJ’d with some dark and twisted beats and built a few of us up into a frenzy. Catster and her FMB were there and it was nice to be able to spoilt them rotten, although they were marvellously helpful too. The WB had introduced me to MG as someone who can sort anything out and when the alcohol was running low in the dressing room I duly appeared on demand with my 2 assistants laden down with booze. We stayed in there until 2am when we were tempted to enter some sort of bizarre goose chase in a white van but wisely decided against it. The hollow legs had held up until then but I didn’t want to take it too far. In the cab back to the wonderful HH FMB told us about a distressing feature of her new alarm. On setting the time it tells you how much time you have left to sleep. I had a very poor 5 ½ hours but she had a measly 4 hours! The WB ended up going back to the hotel and didn’t get home until 5am. I gently sang “Never again is what you swore the time before” when he eventually got into work at 12pm. Oh, and I met my eyeliner muse. I had met her once before but had not recognised her from the visuals for ‘I Feel Love’. I gushingly told her that she had inspired me to kohl up. Her hair drops down past her waist and next to her I felt very unglamorous. Dave Gahan work out here I come.

just can't get enough

I’ve spent the majority of the last 2 weeks travelling by plane, train and in life threatening taxis, while living out of a suitcase and sleeping in 3 different beds. For this trip the majority of my luggage consisted of tissues, medicine and very warm clothes as I caught an absolute corker of a cold on the plane back from NYC. It really showed too, I was miserable, permanently cold, I had a bright red nose, small and puffy eyes, peeling nostrils and I tired by a pathetic 4pm. Plus as I still had jet lag early on in the week all my thoughts were wrapped up in cotton wool. As I was due to travel to 2 cities on Thursday and Friday, to be on my feet all day and to work until the early hours with only a brief rest on Saturday afternoon/evening I was prepared for an almighty fight with my health. Luckily by some sort of miracle although my cold was in full force on Thursday morning, by that afternoon everything had dried up and full health and strength gradually returned over the next couple of days.

Depeche Mode were absolutely brilliant. I had never seen them live before and although I had been told that they are brilliant live, you just can’t imagine it until you experience it for yourself. Dave Gahan has inspired me to get a body (not quite) like his and I plan to begin the regime on Wednesday. He had the whole of the Stadium eating out of the palm of his hands as he jutted about like a cross between Iggy, James Brown and Prince. Wow. I spent the whole of Friday bursting into spontaneous versions of “I feellllllllllllll love, this is the dawning of my life” as this is the moment that both shows really really kicked off. Walking in my Shoes was electric. Martin Gore has the voice of an Angel and when he sung Home he was positively angelic. As well as tonnes of old favourites there was lots of new songs from Playing the Angel, their new album, and seeing them performed live has made me love the album. I am now such a fan that I even joined in the Mexican wave before Friday’s concert (just don’t tell anyone). Dave Gahan has knocked Bobby Gillespie off the Sexiest Man in Rock and Roll No. 1 spot.

A few staff had travelled up for the Manchester gig so I had some nice people to play with, in fact I sat next to the WB who is a big fan and told me lots of interesting tit-bits throughout the performance. He yanked me to the side of the stage for the encores during which time I bumped into my only minor indiscretion of the last year and had a bit of a flirt. The flirting continued later when we popped to the band’s hotel for late drinks. The WB rang me the next day and said “the poor man looked terrified” and that I had him locked into place in a pincer movement but I swear it isn’t true. The minor indiscretion confirmed this the following day when we flirted some more. We didn’t actually get anyway near to being indiscreet, just for the record Shark!

One of the Depeche projections features a sexy nudey lady applying liquid black eyeliner and during the hotel drinks I felt inspired to source a black eye liner and hit the jackpot with a lovely but clearly mad World Music lady from work and blacked up. Her mad French friend said that the band were very machine but good. Mad as brushes, the pair of em.

I’m buying my own black eye liner on the way to Sunday’s gig.

the lesser spotted red belly

Hurrah, this is the red bellied bird that the Shark and I spotted amongst all the sparrows while waiting for the Ellis Island ferry.

Rejoice with me, the noisy neighbour moved out. She fell out with one of the housemates (Side Show Bob). She whacked the last one for trying it on with her sister. Said he was a perv.

Mega blog to follow soon. I am soon to travel to Manchester and Birmingham, to follow a stadium-filling band. I am packing both pair of heels, both pairs of knicker bockers, tissues and God help me please, my hollow legs. No time for bicker bockering.

Lord hear my prayers.

home......

... sad but safe.
xxxxx

sent packing

So, last night was my last in New York and I already want to come back. Boo hoo. I started the day with my first jog of the week before checking out a diner (a must for a tourist), thus our bodies were steeled and fortified for a trip to the stressful Century 21. It’s a discount designer warehouse full to the brim with shoppers and has no air conditioning. The only thing I wanted was a pair of plain black kitten heels and with my radar vision and the Shark’s uncanny, and previously undiscovered ability to locate sizes in a pile them up high in no apparent order system, we got lucky straight away. It was difficult trying to work out if I could walk in the heels or not as the shoes were cable tied together and we were not permitted to break the seal, but I took a chance on them so that we could get some air. We tried the basement to check out the ‘sneakers’ but air deprivation cut short that excursion. We did very well for 2 birds dressed in black though and spent another half an hour looking for clothes. We then took a stroll down to the South Street Sea Port and after that, at long last, we took a bus home, something that TH had been encouraging us to do for the entire trip. Later we met up with him and some of his barking mad work mates for another must, a burger. Yum.

Today I took an even longer run down to Houston, so that’s roughly 21 blocks and back. It was easily the best run that I have ever taken and it set me up well to go to this famous Jewish Deli for more huge helpings of good food.

I’m off to pack now and I am very sad. I just came up with the bright idea of a couple of drinks for the road. Te he.

The observant reader here will notice the complete lack of any mention to the infamous Mrs N. Although I could hear her yapping dog every time I passed her front door, it never actually budged in the manner that I expected. I was seriously beginning to think that she did not exist until TH explained yesterday that she was on vacation. Oh, and Shark had such plans for me.

Meanwhile in London…further to my brief mention to Chantelle working with Beatbullying, this has happened.

new shoes

I am a kitten.
Purrr.

addendum

Danny’s is a fun place with a crooning pianist, fantastic food and a back room that tempts debauchery. There was a band playing and the show was recommended to us a few times (a red head from Glasgow is much more exotic here) but as it was a performer that the Shark had seen twice, and a school night for TH we didn’t do it. I was slightly tempted though as I had chatted to and fancied one of the band. CNL in ‘fancies a man shocker’. It’s a biannual event these days. We were there very early but by all accounts Broadway stars pop in later and take to the microphone and lonely people make eyes at the pianist. Make it part of your trip when coming here!

The bathroom was dark with piped music.

bowery and restaurant row

After leafing through Time Out New York Shark suggested KT Tunstall playing the Bowery Poetry Room. A bargain at only $8. It’s a small venue and she was on very early so we gently stroked the chins on whether or not she is known in the States yet, or if she is on a promo tour. Still we dressed carefully for the occasion, trying to achieve the correct level of glamour and weirdness needed for the area and planned to hook up with TH there. The cab driver from hell #1 took us to the Bowery where I was immediately threatened by a man with a stick. Quite scary at the time, I really did think that I was going to get a whack. He obviously didn’t know that a certain Tai Chi warrior stance came very naturally to me (although less so in the new heels). TH was a bit annoyed that we wasn’t there to protect us. It seems that he wouldn’t push me to the front after all. We moved swiftly onto what turned out to be the non-event of the year. KT Tunstall wasn’t playing. She wasn’t even there. It was a launch party for an album that’s been out in the UK for ages. Time Out got it all wrong and I’m thinking of writing in to complain. Before you say it, we did try and phone ahead 212 614 0505 (ans ph). Very good, but not very helpful at the time.

Luckily we were in New York so it wasn’t the biggest of problems. After hooking up with TH we had a drink in Marion’s where Shark reminisced about days gone by and this led to the genius idea of going to Danny’s Sky Light Room. We hailed cab driver from hell #2. On getting into the cab Shark asked why there was no screen separating us from him. He pointed to the glove compartment and said “Cos I got a gun”. It was a long ride but luckily for us cab driver from hell #2 raced most of the way with competing cabs so we arrived a lot sooner than we should have. Another fun night in NYC.

soho and chi

Today we woke up fresh and fighting fit after our beautiful sleeps and practiced the fine art of Tai Chi. I’ve often watched the nutters, I mean practiscers, doing their Chi outside the Brockwell Lido at 7.30am in their gloves, hats and overcoats and people in various static poses under trees. I never imagined that I would ever want to be one, but after just 1 session I feel differently. It’s very hard to pick up and I felt relived when the Shark told me that it took her time and effort to learn even one routine. I only got the hang of one very small part of one routine and that was at the very end of the lesson. It’s not all brown rice and lentils you know, it’s for warriors! I couldn’t get the hang of it until teacher told me to aim like I was going to stab him in the eyes, knee him in the crutch etc etc while remaining calm, still and silent. These things really do go together. At the end of class he gave me 2 presents, one of his pens and a worry bead type bracelet. Shark says he notices things and I do tend to fiddle with my hair. This was like getting 2 gold stars. ☺ Being still is all foreign to me and I felt eerie and odd after class plus very cross-eyed but invigorated with it. Shark noticed a change in me immediately too in that my pace had lessened by about 30mph.

We had a wee stroll around Soho too and I bought myself another pair of knicker bockers. When I asked what sort of shoes I should wear with them, the overly helpful shop assistant brought me a 4-inch pair of stiletto shoes. I looked like Pete Burns, ie a docker in women’s clothing. It was oh so funny that she insisted on taking a snap of it.

On a more predictable vein, Chantelle with a C has acted as a spokesperson for Beatbullying. This is one of Jodie Marsh’s favored charities. Let’s see how charitable she is with her vitriol. In her battle with Murdoch the www.myspace.com/jodiehumanviagra has been removed. Does this means she’s winning or losing or that she now acts as a sleeping pill?

uptown

Poor CNL did not have enough sleep last night. Not down to jet leg, just Laydee tings. Still I bravely managed to get a little shopping done this morning, a lovely jacket in Diesel but I got tired and bored quickly and left it at that. I hooked back up with the Shark and we met a couple of her friends for lunch. We had shrimp risotto, gorgeous!!!! and I pretended to be awake and opened my mouth to make the right noises as much as I could, but I really wasn’t the best company ever.

But look who we were sat next to phoooooor.

More tourist activity today. Naturally I love to go up, although I am very scared of heights and the Shark suggested the Rockafella Center as an alternative to the Empire State Building, which I’ve been up twice already. It was enormous fun going up the 86, I think, floors. The roof of the lift is made of glass and the shaft is illuminated with blue neon lights. It looks something like this on the way up and down. Great fun – do it kids. Absolutely breath taking views, which of course I have not done justice to, what with having the shakes and all. We had timed the ascent carefully to coincide with the sun set but boo hoo it was cloudy.

We are now par-taking in a great American past time, American Idol. Shark thinks that Paula is high on the weed. It’s possible, as she can barely sit upright and her responses are somewhat erratic. It could be booze or prescription drugs too. TH is on bar duty so we are drinking quadruple measures. Woo hoo. Shark is now frantically dialling for Taylor.

Naturally I’m keeping an eye on Jodie Marsh activity, me being one of “them”, ie a scary weirdo. She’s thinking of taking on Murdoch in a war against someone hosting a myspace in her name www.myspace.com/jodiehumanviagra. I’ll keep you informed.

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 3)

Live Bait

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 2)

55 Bar

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 1)

Knicker Bocker

downtown

Earlier, in my sleepy haze I forgot to say that I am sleeping on THE most comfortable bed in THE world. My 12-hour sleep last night is a testament to that. I did wake up a few times though. Once, as it’s amazing how much traffic and sirens that one can hear 13 floors up. Plus, I am sleeping next to the computer that actually powers the Tardis and it kicks off a hell of a racket…. it has it’s own TV!!! TH was embarrassed to tell me it only has 6 channels plus a couple of Spanish channels. He thought 3 TVs with 250 channels would be overdoing it. I agree and remain incredibly impressed with his boffin skills. He spoke Japanese to us the other night. Wow. I also woke up with a parched mouth but we can glaze over that……..



Today Shark suggested that we do our ferry ride. I had suggested the Staten Island route as a visitor’s option, which I had done 11 years ago, but as I came determined to live a New York life for a week, I am very open to suggestions from a real New Yorker and the Shark counting as that now is brilliant. The best thing ever in fact. So, we went to Liberty and Ellis Island instead. This involved a ride on the subway, which passed unremarkably. No one was wearing a Walkman or an I-pod and no one was playing any MP3s through their mobile phones and there was no unnecessary announcements on the platforms either. Bliss. Actually leaving the Island though was quite an ordeal. The queue was huge and involved listening to a steel drum version of many popular classics: My Way, New York New York, London Bridge is Falling Down, plus numerous other numbers and a security procedure worthy of any good Airport. I volunteered the knowledge that I was carrying a miniature manicure Swiss Army knife and I was allowed through the security system that allowed no photos or indeed anything that might pass as entertainment for a good 20 minutes. I don’t think any more visitors this year will be accompanying the Shark anywhere on a ferry anytime soon. It was worth it simply to huddle like penguins, remembering of course that they have no arms. The winds were glacial and we were frozen to the bone. I am a tourist so I took several shaky pictures before my batteries ran out, which was all too soon. By the by we discovered that it is quite the trend for young Japanese girls to wear winkle picker dolly shoes a size too big so that they slip up and down with every step. Not at all annoying.

By the time we hit the shore again the Shark had come up with a wonderful plan which involved hitting her SECOND favourite bar Live Bait while we warmed up with spirits and waited for TH who was bunking off work early on my account. Due to our struggling immune systems the drinks went to our head quite quickly. We were in high spirits before his surprise early entry and quite frankly the rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind, although I can remember every minute of it. Shark cooked a lovely curry, TH did the rice and I did nothing apart from read out updated blogs (oh yes we are watching). They are in bed now, which is where I am going now, but I cannot go to bed without rejoicing lyrically in what a wonderful host and hostess that they are. Oh, and wonderful cooks too.

east village and greenwich all in one day

Yesterday we took a stroll to the East Village for brunch, even though the TH seems obsessed with getting everywhere by bus. Moroccan eggs, yum. We had plans to go to Brooklyn on the subway and walk back over the bridge but the wind chill factor was very high and we had a secret, warm alternative, watching March of the Penguins. Oh my God, can’t we doing something about this situation? We could drop food parcels, build platforms or drill holes through to the ice ANYTHING.

Then we hooked up with Jonathon at the fairy light grotto known as 55 Bar. Shark had told me that he is similar to me and I have to say that I like him, a lot. Very very handsome too. Phew. Shark slipped him some booty: PG Tips and V05 hair gel, which he immediately offered around the venue. He asked me why I was blogging about Jodie Foster. Hmm, explaining about Jodie Marsh was more than embarrassing. Still, I’m not ready to give it up just yet. We watched the Gabrielle Anders band. Against all the odds, ie small venue, band, music, being out, I really enjoyed it. I clapped when prompted, as the good bits were not always immediately obvious to me. I especially enjoyed the songs sung in English. I’m not racist, I just love lyrics you see. We met the drummer and some lovely “how you doing” men who shared a secret lovely flavour of Doritos, previously unknown to us. So salty snacks and table service led to another lovely evening topped off with Chinese take out. Life really turns around food here and I quite expect to come back the size of a house.

this is just showing off

New York New York it’s a wonderful town

Awesome. Opps, I’m not allowed to say that anymore. It’s been banned by the Sharkess.

I arrived safely in New York TG (another story there for another time) and took some blog notelettes of the journey for y’all. As Virgin do not give you a wee notepad anymore, I used the only blank piece of paper available to me, my sick bag. Before you scoff, while watching ‘Walk the Line’, as part of my in flight entertainment, I discovered that Johnny Cash had done exactly the same thing while inspired to write to Bob Dylan on a flight, before he had gone electric of course. So, if it’s good enough for him etc. So what if he was high on pills and booze at the time. I cast an eerie reflection on the screen throughout the film, rather like Frankenstein’s monster. Grrrrr. In complete contrast I then watched The Constant Gardener. Is it true that there will be a worldwide TB epidemic? I really must catch up on my current affairs.

On take off, I noticed a lovely advertisement on the top of a Tesco building. What is it that they want from you? I mean its not like I could jump off and get a 2 for 1 on bakery items is it? Apart from Sky Sports News only showing League One football results (der), the 1000000 mile per hour Duty Free opportunity that passed me by entirely (doh), the only thing of interest was going over Greenland. I think I saw some glaciers. Awesome, opps.

Last night was TH’s birthday and we went to Knickerbockers, the NYC equivalent of The Archduke, (without our laptops) to celebrate. I actually wore a pair, along with my lovely 4-inch heels. TH ate half a cow, I ate the other half, while the Shark was rather more sophisticated with duck. We had a marvellous time spotting who is gay, who is swinging and on occasion remembered to actually speak to each other. It was my best night out in New York ever and I did have a lovely time. We are also planning a night out on the local rough pub. It’s something that the Shark has wanted to do for a while but TH banned her. So, I’m not sure how to take the news that he actually suggested going to it BECAUSE I am here. His “It’s cos your Oirish” defence is sitting somewhat uncomfortably, although he means it with lots of love.

I’ve already hit the town, seen a sunset, Jupiter, a clear night sky with constellations and just narrowly missed Venus. Alright already.

Correction ; it’s because if there’s a fight he can put me in front.

jodie marsh's suitcase, the ebay auction

I was out at a gig at the time, Liars at ULU, which was top. Luckily I received the following texts keeping me up to date:

9.27pm Where are you?
9.29pm Ah. Not watching the auction then.
9.31pm Weirdness, it got to 7 grand with 5 mins to run. now its gone back to a grand with 2 mins to go! uh?
9.34pm OK. Auction over. No bids!? X
9.37pm You just have to read the reason at the bottom of the page! Ha!
9.38pm They were clearly all her!

Going going NOT gone.

© shark

for the addicts

A treat for you.

stop messing about

There’s a Kenneth Williams evening on the box tonight. His life was a truly heart breaking story and seeing it re-enacted has recalled a couple of memories from one of my past lives. I met him on a tube train in Hammersmith once when I was very little. I was with my little girlfriends and he was very funny and nice to us and gave us his autograph. And when he died our paths, sort of, crossed again. I was working for a bank, not in one, but for one and we looked after his Estate. On the event of his death I went to his house in Paddington or there abouts with the Trust Officer and we took all of his assets back to the office. It was a spartan place almost exactly replicated here. There was very little furniture and all I can recall was 2 chairs, one for him and one for his mother. Very neat, very tidy and very bare. Not much to show for a whole lifetime.

i smell a rat

I thought that the removal from ebay would be a little more interesting. It's back! Although I do suspect that she’s bidding for it herself. Te he.

you have not been evicted

The Shark’s back in Blighty and has set up camp here in the living room that doubles as a discotheque when needs be. I was ever so slightly nervous that it would be a little noisy for her due to my sash windows being 120 years old but my offer of earplugs was rejected. It seems that the noise actually helps her to sleep and acts like a lullaby gently bombarding her to sleep. “Cos I’m a City bird innit” she said (I think she’s been knocking about with some cock er nees or somefink).

Last night I gave the 4-inch heels another airing for a greatly anticipated curry at Fawlty Towers, I mean 3 Monkeys with shark & catster. It seems that Indian food is not that great in NYC but if any passing trade bloggers know differently, please feel free to comment. The shark and I retired to base camp to huddle over laptops, and I managed to get the shark addicted to the sick one too. We cannot wait to hear why the suitcase was taken off ebay.

She’s out tonight keeping up with an excruciating social calendar and is dining in palatial surroundings in Dulwich (which is clearly sign posted from Boroughs away). I’ve heard that the Estate can only be accessed via a drawbridge over a long moat. Don’t tell her I said but today’s trip nearly had to be called off due to me not having a full-length mirror. She couldn’t figure out how I cope until I reminded her that, until recently, I had approximately 2 outfits. I would be worried about her not coming back but I know that she’s only got 1 ½ hours of power on her life-line.

Oh dear. This received no bids on ebay and has beem removed. I wait with baited breath for an update. Perhaps a footballer offered her £20K.

i'm still sick

Oh dear. This has been on ebay since Wednesday. Despite being advertised on her own web-site and being in this week’s holy-moly mail-out NOT ONE BID!

queen shark

It occurred to me while washing up 1 ½ weeks worth of plates, clearing up clothes that have long since dried, washing the sink, contemplating hovering etc, that the cat and the mafling probably went through similar things on the eve of the shark. In fact I know the catster did as I admired her work! It must be rather like being the Queen, except that there's no smell of paint. It’s a good job that the shark knows and loves TH foibles as I fear that he will buck the trend.

the end of the road?

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone here for their patience and understanding during this difficult time. Indeed I can only go on in the comfort that knowing that I have provided amusement to the solobassist , a man who makes a conscious effort to give a proportion of his time for the good of others. If he can, then I can.

The torment is over and I can now reveal, probably in a worldwide exclusive, that the long long long wait is over. Excited? I know I am…………….She has broken her blog silence. It’s been 5 weeks since I began to wait with baited breath for a response, a rant, a throw away comment. God damn it a lifeline. I needed closure after 4 long hard weeks of intensive, often, 24 hour reporting. Hopefully it ends here and this sad, unrewarding addiction is now beaten. Is it over? I can only hope.

a purple haze

The awards themselves were what you’d expect with lots of loud people, lots of smoke and lots of drunkenness. I arrived at 10pm, got myself a £9 hotel bar vodka and hid at the back. Despite smelling of fish and chips, and being me, I managed to get through the trauma of having to meet lots of drunken new people. I did this by disarming new comers immediately. I chucked my pre-planned stock phrase “do I look like a cheap hooker?” at em (the outfit, short pants, high shoes). I coped very well until I spied He Who Cannot Be Named and immediately felt like leaving, which I did. I’m not going into it on the World Wide Web like but suffice to say that there were tears at bedtime. Still on the upside the shark’s in the area and I definitely heard a wood pecker in the park during my early morning jog on Thursday.

What with the shark being about I’ve HAD TO go to some gigs, and for old time’s sake I accompanied her, the cat and their gang to Commuter Jazz at the QEH. There were lots of new faces with limp hand shakes but also some lovely familiar faces too, including Mr T, Mr H, Terry Edwards and solobasssteve. I saw the Beardless One, although only briefly as he was leisurely rushing home to a sick wife and Lady Jane who I didn’t get to talk to as every time I looked up at her, she was with strangers and what with the pain of standing for 3 hours in heels (not the new ones), I couldn’t cope with any more discomfort. Jimbob, it was really too bad of you not to be there.

Art class went like a dream. Although the work is not ready to be shown here yet, it was briefly exhibited in the Foyer of the National Theatre today when myself, catster and the shark went along to see Steve and Theo (who does not think I’m scary) play. It was all lovely apart from the bus driver from hell on the way home. Naturally I did not let him get away with it without a few choice certificate 18 words of my own.

just do it blog people

Planet Earth. From Sunday, BBC1 @ 9pm.

bit fishy

Bliss as I finally have a minute to think and a chance to rest my weary feet.

So, with Monday came the shocking news that I was going to a work do on Thursday night. I can now reveal that it was because our Chairman was collecting a special prize at the Music Week Awards, so me complaining about having to go or having nothing to wear wasn’t really on. He’s 100% behind his staff, he’s a top man and he employs me. I had to show some support.

Shoe shopping on Tuesday followed naturally. I did it all for him in the first instance. Honest. It was a totally clichéd shopping trip with staff being snooty to me at Prada and with me avoiding anything without a price tag, or that was chained to the shelf. Naturally I found THE shoes in the last shop that I went into. This was, of course, also the first shop that I went into and of course I cut it fine with only 5 minutes of shopping time left at the point of purchase. I had to admire the plucky sales girl who tried to get me to buy a matching handbag, even though I had holes in both socks, shockingly bad feet and was openly hysterical that I was actually buying them in the first place. I was on a bit of a role by then and managed to find Mammy a birthday present in the final 5 minutes of open shops, a lovely pair of white leather gloves – very jazzy, and a big hit with the lady herself, not an easy task. Tuesday came to a natural conclusion with pancakes at Susan Sontag’s and the unlikely event of me painting my toe nails purple and then giving them a layer of glitter, again c/o Susan. I also made the shocking discovery that the international man of intrigue Happy Dave is not someone that she randomly found on the world wide web but is in fact flipping moving in with her!!!! Pah. Where’s the mystery there eh?

Anyway, Mammy’s birthday is 1 March. It always makes me titter that had she been born a day earlier on a leap year, officially she’d only be about 12. Te he. We had a lovely tea and a nice quiet evening as I reserved my energy for the shark’s fish and chip supper and work do on Thursday. It was absolutely lovely to see her purpleness again and totally natural to see her sitting at her kitchen table in front of 2 lap tops. Happy Dave was there too but I’m managing to keep him a man of mystery by totally alienating him with my inane comments such as you’re blog gave me the impression that you’d be taller and other such nonsense. Anyway, we all had a lovely fish and chip tea. Not such a good idea seeing as I was just about to put a skimpy outfit on. I was pleased to resolve the shark's long outstanding whole life error, or break her drunken code, as she put it, by asking her if she had ever had a fish. Success.

i've caught linkitus

Hurrah, the shark is back.

Jimbob, here’s the top half.

On a more serious note....so while I’ve had my head stuck in a book, I’ve missed out on all sorts of conspiracy theories about 911. I’ve been told that I am way behind the times and that everyone knows this (Steve probably blogged it ages ago) but if not go here and watch the trailer for Loose Change.
Innit.

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!

a load of pollocks

And so I have my life back and I can return to me favourite subject. Me. It began yesterday with art class 2 of 10. Last week I reported that I wasn’t going to go back as there were no fit men and I didn’t get a snog. Hopefully dear readers will know that was a Jodie joke. I didn’t really enjoy the first class though but luckily I had expected this would be the case so I didn’t panic. I loved University, which finished 10 years ago, but I have also enjoyed not being in a classroom since then. During my final term at Uni, I didn’t get around to finishing 2 of the course novels, Tom Jones & Middlemarch. On occasion, and even to this day, I sometimes have nightmares that I’m in my final exam and I am faced with a series of questions, based exclusively on the 2 novels. How absurd is that? I passed with a healthy 2:1 and yet I’m still plagued with guilt. Maybe I should just read them.

On arrival at our studio space we were surrounded by drying still life canvasses. I was early and as my fellow art lovers stumbled in bit by bit, they nervously eyed the canvasses too and I tried to make light of the situation by making nervous quips about a recent Coronation Street plot involving Jack Duckworth and nude modelling. Surely they wouldn’t hit us with that on the first day of a beginners course? Sir arrived promptly and after register, a very brief Health & Safety talk and tips about where to have sly fags, we were given a lecture on colour and it’s use to demonstrate movement and depth on a 1 dimensional space. Next to Sir sat a blonde lady and we all wondered who she was. I thought that perhaps she was a trainee lecturer or even his Muse, as she sat there tittering at his jokes and making a few Carry On type suggestive comments. All was revealed, literally, later into the lesson when she did in fact take all her clothes off and do four 1-minute poses, which we had to quickly sketch in oil bars. Sir had told us countless times to take the membrane off the top of the oil bars. I had taken some plastic off the top of mine, but didn’t realise that there was yet another layer. Consequently, I completely missed pose 1 and only had 30 seconds for each of the other 3 poses. I can't upload the darn image straight, it needs to be rotated so that the green line is on the right. My work suffered a little but I soldiered on. We then spent the rest of the first lesson and most of yesterday’s lessons colouring in the lines. Sir didn’t laugh at my work and said that my use of colour is bold. I really enjoyed lesson 2. The blonde lady was there but did absolutely nothing this time.

I was in town early yesterday to pick up more art supplies (it’s a very expensive hobby), and just in case I didn’t enjoy lesson 2 I spontaneously booked a hair appointment for after class. As regulars will know the Laydee thing did not suit me, however there are limits and when the WB (who has a Leo Sayer barnet) tells you that you need a haircut, that’s when you’ve exceeded them. So I now have a Vidal Sassoon hair cut. It’s a classic Vidal cut and it’s the one that I had for most of my 20s and it suits me, peeping out from under a fringe.

I was very surprised to get a call on a UK mobile from the Vixen who invited me for drinks in Brixton. I have been avoiding alcohol, company and going out much more than usual since giving up the fags. Despite being a little nervous about drinking I leapt at the chance to hook up. The last time I gave up smoking I kept getting really pissed and it took me sometime to realise that as my right arm was used to going up to my mouth constantly, I was drinking way too quickly. As a precaution yesterday I smoked a cocktail stick. Later on, I chained smoked a cocktail stick and a straw. It might have looked silly, but who cares. Anyway, the Vixen is back in town for reasons as funny as Michael Barrymore but she is headed back to New Zealand next Saturday. Luckily for her, she doesn’t do jet lag. She’d only arrived the night before and showed super human strength by barely even remembering that she had not long been off a long haul flight.

Who remembered? There’s a couple of robins larking around in our back garden.

cbb finale

I'm looking forward to Pete's interview and that's all. I think that Chantelle will win and this upsets me. There have been various pictures of her topless and discreet full frontals on the front pages of the Daily Sport every day this week. It's such a waste. All she's going to use her new status for is joint glamour shots with Jodie, unless she gets a very good manager very quickly.

Eviction predicition :
Traci
Pete
Maggot
Michael
Preston
Chantelle

In their final Diary Room chats : Chantelle predicted Preston to win, Maggot wanted himself to win for some $$$$, Michael wanted Maggot to win, Pete wanted Michael to win, Preston wanted to win but, apparently, it’s never been a competition. If he can’t win, he wants Chantelle to win. Traci wanted to herself to win too.

Jodie’s turned up and has unbelievably not given up TV, just reality TV. Faria’s here. Yawn. Rula said hi to George but he ignored her. George reckons his constituency are behind him. Dennis wasn’t allowed to talk in case he swore.

The first person to be evicted tonight is Traci. She pouted a lot and said “oh my God” often. She maintains that there was a lot of love in the house.

Pete’s out. He steeled himself for booing. Good job. It was true panto. He loves the boos and says it shows he still has what it takes and said it’s 1977 all over again. He’d only packed for 5 days on the show. He thinks that people cannot cope with the truth these days and that he didn’t go too far and that he’s scary but fun. I agree. They were all free at any time to yell shut up. What he learned in his time in the house : how to go without sex for 3 weeks. His hit is being re-released and he’s gutted. He said it’s like been in your school uniform all your life. His best bits were excellent. Channel 4 know how to court controversy, his boyfriend was invited onto the stage for them to hug.

SHOCK!!!!!!!!! PRESTON’S OUT. Boo, they’re all cheering. Zzzzzs. George looks like he still wants to kill him. They showed a Chantelle and Preston montage. He still insists that they are just mates. His bird is there looking upset but without the murder in her eyes that I would have, especially after watching the montage. He is justifying it all by saying he’s a flirt and if people can’t cope with that then it’s their problem. What an odious toad. Oh well, at least Jodie will have someone to say hello to at last.

Next out is Maggot. I don’t mind them cheering Maggot. He’s alright. He’s a bit dull at times, too polite and quiet for my liking but harmless enough. “It’s the taking part that counts”, “you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth”, cliché city. Zzzz. The crowd love him though. I prefer a bit more of a brute. Get some colour in your cheeks man.

Michael is out now, so the winner is Chantelle. Booooooooooooooo.

And I have my life back. CBB blog endeth and here’s hoping I lose my Jodie obsession soon too.

cbb day 22

Te he. Dennis was up to mischief again first thing and called Maggot Faggot.

During the day Chantelle genuinely thought that she might be evicted and was excited about seeing her Mum. “I could have gone in the first week” she cried, obviously once too often leading Preston to tell her that she was like a broken record. “Oh well, if you don’t like it, you know what you can do”. “Go and jump in the lake” Michael chipped in. Oh dear. That was even worse than the time that BB zoomed in on him stuffing a carrot up a stuffed raw chicken’s arse. It’s not funny.

Pete did 2 priceless impressions of Jodie in this task. They involved him constantly licking his fake nipples, talking about orgies, saying that she was going to dis them all in her next book, which will be published in a pamphlet, moaning about there being no fit blokes to snog, shouting about being a veg e tar i an, people needing psychiatric help, while pouting and writhing directly at the camera. Later he slipped his fake boobs down to his waist. The film ended with Pete/Jodie winning and saying “can I show my fanny in a 4 page spread?” I can’t wait to see what she says about this. Excellent. Chantelle walked out of the room in disgust, followed by the limpet prat Preston. “He wouldn’t have done that if she was here” she said, ignoring all signs to the contrary. She then ignored Pete, which only served to rile him. However, as Maggot later admitted Jodie had said everything that he had used in his imitation of her…..apart from maybe “I wrote a fuzzy felt book”. Pete is planning on wearing a huge fur coat for the warp party just to annoy her.

cbb day 21 * 5 in a row

2 evictions tonight. I predict that Dennis and George will leave tonight but it is against my wishes. I will then lose interest as the show falls into a decline, as Pete will have no one of interest to knock about with.

The morning after. George refused Michael’s porridge and made himself some toast. He always has his porridge. He cannot maintain eye contact with anyone apart from Pete and Dennis, despite telling BB that he doesn’t regret or take back a word. Dennis wondered who would start a row today.

Preston is hurt by George’s words. Twit. To Preston Pete is now a 50 year old transvestite and George a shit arguer. Let’s hope that they don’t find out that he is slagging them off. He would be shredded alive. He thinks that the mature thing to do would be to drop the matter so he’s done a Jodie and talked about it non-stop. Preston has renamed Pete and George the Mitchell Brothers. He’s been in the Diary Room spitting out the words “50 year old” and “old men” like old age is something out of a horror film. Go run to your Mammy boy.

Michael now hangs with the kids and often leaves his position by the cooker hob to come out to play.

George is out. And booed. I couldn’t concentrate on the interview, although I think he fared quite well. I was totally distracted by a voice mail from someone who was a good friend a few years back. She’s been married for 18 months and has a 5 month old baby. This is shocking news.

Dennis is out. Poor poor Pete left with no decent company. All he said is "Stringfellows right".

ccb 20

Hurrah, the poisonous one has updated her blog and the touching first line is “I’ve been drowning (no pun intended Barrymore)….” Then she throws in a little chav “A few days ago, on a giant Ikea spree with Dave and Lauren, I saw a beautiful canvas in sepia of a winding country road lined by trees either side. As I looked at it, I felt calm and comforted. It's huge and exactly the right size to hang above my bed’. Then a disaster occurred. On watching Eastenders “there was my tree picture on the wall in one of the youngsers house's. Oh great. So, now I don't want the tree picture. Eastenders is purposely tacky and the houses are furnished hideously. “ Can you believe that she puts this stuff on line? More bitterness “Although I do have an IQ of 136, which is far higher than Traci - sorry, harsh but true. Love it!’. And then she reckons that she is going to start a fight with a red head “I'd like to point out that I've heard from various people that Rula has been saying since she left "everyone was scared of Pete, noone would stand up to him" - clearly she's forgetting that actually I DID stand up to him and was the only one who dared. Two-faced silly old cow. No, Rula, YOU were too scared to stand up to him and now you are trying to make out that everyone was, as it makes you look better. When I see her at the stupid reunion show I have to do this Friday, she's going to get a large chunk of my mind. Speak for yourself Rula, you old hag, DON'T include me in your weakness and lack of morals.’ Last thing “As I write this, I have just received a text from a male celeb.”

Pete thinks that Chantelle loves Preston, that Preston loves the headlines this attracts and that his bird will rip his cock off once he’s out. Traci thinks that he must be dumped by now. Pete, George and Dennis have dumped Michael. Pete thinks that he is after the kiddie’s vote and that he would rip his intestines out to win. Michael really seems to believe that he has a chance of winning as he has not been nominated for eviction (different voters) and because of the reception he got from the crowd on the first night.

Since the banking task began Pete regularly refers to Preston as a little shit, sneaky, cunning and the Oldies are appalled at how easily the 2 youngsters lied. Maggot was given the real results to read out. Chantelle took the deception better than Preston and laughed. “We did it for you guys”. George asked “what you had all that food, cigars and drink for us?” When asked why they had lied so much they said that they were pissed, making the whole situation a lot worse. Preston would like it to be history but Pete told them what good liars they are and how dumb they are that they didn’t realise that they were being watched. George told Preston that he had double standards. He maintains that he would not have touched the food, drink and cigars if he had been there. Preston called George a cheating politician again but to his face this time. At this slight Dennis could take no more and got involved and blew his top at Preston and asked how come George only became the bad guy when Preston found out that he wanted to nominate him. Chantelle actually asked Dennis “do you think I’m boverred? Do you?’

Michael intervened and tried to break up the fight. This led to George and Michael rowing and George telling Michael that he is self obsessed and he said “Poor me, poor me, pour me a drink.” Preston piped up “Wanker, you wanker. Pour me Saddem Hussain’s phone number”. Pete told Preston that he was a wanker for shouting out wanker. Pete reckons that George was not referring to Michael’s past alcoholic problems when he said “poor me, pour me”. Michael’s biggest insult was “no wonder Blair threw you out” to which George replied “keep talking Michael”. Michael did not cry. Indeed he calmed down and told everyone that until they have been in his position, that they should keep their opinions to themselves. He bleated on again about what’s been written about in the papers. Once again I do not know how I feel about him being in the house. It’s still not funny.

Still, it’s just like having Jodie back in the house.

Days since my last fag : 6
Days until I get my life back : 3

ccb day 19

I’m tiring of my task now.

Got it?. Very clever. Their alarm call song was Dolly Parton’s 9-5. What a way to make a living indeed.

Fix, fix, fix. Only Chantelle and Preston were near the phone when it rang. BB wanted them to do the task. Boo. Boo. They are directors and the other housemates are a bunch of bankers.

Preston & Chantelle think that they have it sussed, but Pete calls them children who think that they have everything worked out. Preston keeps remarking that they are the most mature people in there. Preston’s suit makes Pete want to hit him. Chantelle is now openly rude about Traci and Dennis and openly hostile to them. I hope that this loses her votes. Preston is so cool that he has a Clockwork Orange Eye to go with his bowler hat. It looks awful. I don’t think Chantelle understood what was going on.
Traci running around in her skimpys isn’t fooling anyone. Dennis confirmed that she was “running around for the camera”. There are only 2 women left and Traci’s fighting for survival
George wants Chantelle to be evicted. He is still angry and sulking and is not happy about having his right to nominate taken away from him by his fellow housemates.

As reported here, the Oldies were already getting fed up with Chantelle and Preston. This task is not helping the youngster’s cause at all. It is funny watching Preston & Chantelle squirm. They almost threw in the towel after just a little ribbing. It almost, but not quite, turned into banker gate. Pete called Preston & Chantelle liars and stirred it so much that BB asked him if he thought that he was behaving like a complete banker. He liked that. Chantelle objects to being called a liar, forgetting that she spent the first week lying to them, badly, that she was a pop star and even swore on her Mum’s life. The first signs of a row between Preston and Chantelle flickered. He thinks the rowing about being called a liar is boring. Chantelle, shut it, you are lying. Preston is trying to make up to Pete by hugging him. It simply makes him want to hurl. It’s the first time that Pete has pointed his bile at Preston. It looks like tomorrow’s show might be good.

Days since my last fag : 5
Days until I get my life back : 4