Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 8 March 2014
New mown grass.
Solly smells of fresh air and the garden. In and out of the cat flap. He's finally found his way.
I had to have a bath after me pruning, pulling, poking, cutting and mowing. My back couldn't have done it without all my yoga. Although I had to cancel Friday and Saturdays classes needed time to think about my homework for my writing curse….sorry course, talk about a freudian slip.
I find it really hard. I never believe my brain can come up with anything, I look round the table and the others all look like they know what they are doing. Scary stuff, I'm doing the right thing according to the old man and all my friends, it certain is stretching me.
Sitting in for three weeks for Radio Sussex. I have become a media slattern. It makes me laugh. I love the idea of being in Brighton with a microphone and the ozone.
In two weeks I will be very old indeed. You know it, I know it, but for the first time I'm feeling it. Feeling the reality of where I am at. I care less about some things, a lot about others, but mostly, given the frequent loss of so many friends and colleagues, I am just happy to be getting up in the morning and doing my hot yoga thang. Who'd have thought I'd be putting my head on my knees aged 65.
Well I am, and I'm eating chocolate, drinking coffee and mowing my scraggy lawn. I'm reading two books at a time, and waiting for my acupuncturist to return form Costa Rica, then it will goodbye sweets but hello balance. She'll calm my spirit and I will return to my ™ and meditate 40 minutes a day.
My hands are dry from gardening so its off to the kitchen for some hand cream and the kettle.
Tomorrow it's apple tree pruning with the 'oosbind and a drink in the old pub, although he doesn't know it yet…..
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Posted by Jeni in | 3 March 2014
Well, after a day of celebrating the dawters birthday, we are all a little worse for wear.
There was fancy quinoa with turmeric and garlic, coriander and cumin roasted squash, tiny little sausages fried in honey and sesame seed, guacamole, lentil salad, made by yours truly. Fresh bread, a selection of cheeses from the Chatham lot, Danish butter, chopped liver, fish balls, Cholla bread, from the first cousins, onion and tomato salad in balsamic vinegar, a really delicious bottle of very expensive Balsamic which was a birthday gift for me last year….meat balls, scampi and seven thousand gallons of pink booze, courtesy of Waitrose, not to mention personalised champagnes cocktails replete with sugar and brandy and hand made chocolates donated by B's Godmother.
It started at 2.00 and twelve hours later the last glass had been wiped and put back in the cabinet. Only two casualties my antique fish plate which Jim swore was not his fault. Yeah Mr. Nobody? and a glass from the charity store.
SILLY SOLLY is finally out of the woods and has discovered the outside - rain and all. His paws buttered he returns for fuel then disappears out of the cat flap. He is a raggedy arsed pussycat adored by all. He hid behind the sofa when 35 people descended on the cottage. He then retired to under B's bed as the party got louder and wilder.
By 10.00 last night he was finally nose to dish enjoying the peace as we were.
OLLY SMITH has seen the second programme of our wine tour TRAVEL CHANNEL from MARCH 7TH. I hope you enjoy is as much as we made filming it..
I now await my 6.0'clock yoga class,although the thought of doing my downward dog on a half full stomach of birthday cake and bubbles is not appealing. I made B a red velvet cake ( her request) which looked like a very bad attempt from a child for four. Sylvie turned up with an impromptu cake she had made complete with strawberry marcarrons and delicious icing. Hers looked like a fantasy made by Paul Hollywood mine looked like a fantasy made by ET….in the end mine was content over style whilst Sylvie's was style as well as content…..and we didn't even ask her to make it.
The rain rains, the phone calls and my feet are cold. Both cats are in, whilst the dawter is in the shower, the 'oosbind is settled till he leaves for his evening perf and I'm eyes half shut.
Do you think, if I focus enough Matthew Mocconaughtyooccaghty will leave his wife and come and live with me, he can leave his oscar on the mantlepiece I just want his drawl…...
Continue reading "the day after the day before" »
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 25 February 2014
The senior cat is outside somewhere.
The infant cat is on the black blanket on top of the sofa.
He had his wee nuts nuked last Thursday.
Went like a mad thing all Friday.
Then he stopped. Just stopped. Lay down and stopped eating. Stopped drinking. Stopped playing. He looked grey and sad.
Early Saturday took him back to the vet with a very high temperature, thats King Solomon not the vet. Solly was given an injection to get his temperature down and an antibiotic jab.
He came home and stopped again. Nothing. Not even a pathetic mieow.
On Monday we were at our wits end. I was sitting in for La Feltz at BBC LONDON ( am there till Friday) so the 'oosbind had to take the little invalid to the vet in his car. That's Jim's not Sollys, he is so weak he can't even be bothered to fight. And I'm afraid this story may not end happily. He has been intravenously fed water, he has had his neck shaved. He looks wretched. He has had blood tests. So far he has cost more than a round the world trip on Cathay Pacific. He is an expensive little moggy.
Blood tests have shown one of three things. Maybe leukaemia, maybe viral - exacerbated by the op. That he has been carrying something that was triggered by the nuke removal - it maybe something else. Jim and I couldn't hear straight. So now I have to collect some more antibiotics - and this is in a family that doesn't do drugs - and then tomorrow if he is any brighter we won't need to have three more blood tests. But he has a very very very low white blood cell count. So then what do we do with this delicious little kitty? Do we let him grow weaker and weaker, or do we do something else?
King Solomon, has brought so much fun but it looks like he came into this world with a weakness which I don't think TLC can mend.
I hope I'm wrong.
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 19 February 2014
Did the trailer for JENI AND OLLY'S WEST COAT WINE TRAIL. It's happening first week in March on The Travel Channel, I think you may like it.
I had to cancel it twice because of the weather. Then finally we had a blue sky.
Now as the days pass, the rain has stopped, the snowdrops are nodding their heads in the hedgerow and I've been wondering what it is that gets me through the night.
The fact is that as I get older I realise I am wanting for practically nothing.
So what are my goals?
What do I look forward to?
Getting up is always a relief since I could have pegged it in the wee small hours.
Breakfast: Omelette, coffee made by the 'oosbind, hotwater and lemon. Cheese on toast? The choices are endless.
Lunch: Avocado salad with white onions and basil olive oil? Three bean salad? Cauliflower rice? The choices are endless.
Supper: And here comes the biggy. Meat, fish, eggs, cheese, a little of what you fancy does you good.
Continue reading "Hot Stuff" »
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 15 February 2014
Hot Yoga in Tunbridge wells is my chosen de-stresser. In a little purpose built studio a minimum of 36º is pumped out. When it gets to 39º I am at my happiest.
It's not Bikram, 30 minutes shorter, but the teachers are gentle, sensitive and very thorough.
9 of us - the maximum -downward dog, upward dog, cobra, I'm trying to learn the Sanscrit words but they go over my head.
I've bought a bottle ( Japanese ) with a lump of charcoal to filter the water. Tastes delicious. So I sip and bend, sip and bend.
I have had to cancel at least three classes because of the weather. I even had to cancel a voice over on Friday. The trains, the flooding, the winds, the disruption.
Things are calming down and I've been approached about some more radio work, which is loverly. Sorry doubters dream still very much alive.
I've learnt a new recipe for cauliflower. Grated, into a buttery frying pan, a drizzle of turmeric and there you have a rice like concoction.
I've had a bath so I could read THE UNIVERSE VERSUS ALEX WOODS, by Gavin Extence. Bubbles, salts and a quiet house. The old gits at work, so my timetable is my own. And the book is really good fun.
Second week into my writing course. I have no idea whether I can pull off my project but every waking minute is filled with thinking. Started badly but I'm getting better at it.
Radio 3 and sound of the movies, Saturday afternoon is my favourite time to tune in. After the movies two house of jazz.
Solly is asleep on the table. the soup is on the bubble and the rain has finally stopped.
hasn't this weather brought everything to the surface….literally.
What next from a government that tells us we have no money then tells us we are a rich country. Confused? I am
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 11 February 2014
On the table.
Off the table.
In the Yukka.
Off the Yukka.
Up my leg.
Down my leg.
In the daffodill jug.
Over with the daoffodills.
On the chair.
Off the chair.
I'm trying to write.
Solly is being kitten, if he carries on being a pest he will not grow into a cat.
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 6 February 2014
So lets have the discussion. At what age should we give up on a dream?
Is it ever appropriate to remove dreams from the landscape of our lives?
I never dreamt I wanted to be broadcaster. As with so much in my life, it came to me.
Starting out as an actress and forming a theatre group with like minded savages.
Being chased up a corridor to appear on a new fangled thing called Breakfast TV.
Being asked to work at ITV whilst I was still young and feisty, and presumably still allowed to have a dream.
Working at Aunty Beeb. For years I got paid to talk to people, travel, write and have a throughly good time, although it is true that youth is wasted on the young.
Brought up my daughter - well I helped the old git did most of the good work - turned my hand to food and then broadcasting came a-knocking.
I always thought it would be the rosiest of jobs. A mug of hot chocolate a pair of woolly socks and a telephone. But should I still have been allowed to be in the broadcasting firmament, since Peewee, I was over 50 with my own individual voice.
When I started at LBC we had an audience of just over a 140,000. By the time I left we had built an audience of 500,000. I learnt that meant nothing, when the powers that be want you out you're shown the door, with your little brown box, and not so much as a wham bam thank you maaaam.
Am I bitter? No I couldn't be writing this if I were.
Continue reading "Dream, dream, dream" »
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 3 February 2014
The weather is not grey it's a whitish charcoal.
The cat is not sat on the mat but on his cardigan on the corner of the table.
A new generation artist is playing Bach in E flat major on the guitar. It is lovely.
I've just done the accounts, as I do every month. I do the sums and the 'oosbind does the computing; between us we get the bills paid and the tax man quiet.
The car is in the garage for its annual service. Hello break pads goodbye another hundred quid.
I've still got my first class British Airways pj's on, I have been severely struck by the virus that has everybody saying. 'Oh have you been struck by the virus' THE VIRUS is a creeping hammer blow of a bug that attacked me last Monday at the dinner table. BY Tuesday I was stuck to my bed. CANCELLED EVERYTHING, including all my lovely hot yoga classes. I was bereft. Thursday I ventured into town to put my voice down for the travel film which will be aired some time in March. I had to do it blind so I have no idea what the pictures look like. Ollie was in Oz so we didn't get to meet.
Then it was into Golden Square for lunch in THE NORDIC CAFE. I had eggs and herring on dark rye bread, then earl grey tea, then a sticky bun then a hot chocolate then a piece of TOSCA cake. Yes I felt as sick as a dog, compounded by the hammer bug. I
Went into No. 20 for my voice over which I thought was going to bring in so much revenue I bought myself a bottle of scent on the back of it. In the end I was the last LINE ONLY - having been removed as the old pot - only the english guide track, to boot. So just a studio fee for me, and my British guide vocal which was being sent out to INDONESIA, THAILAND AND VIETNAM. Maybe someone in Ho Chi Min city will hear my voice talking about Sunlight Soap degreasing beautifully and hire me for their restaurant opening. I can make any time and they can pay me in dim sum, vegetable spring rolls and sesame toast.
I shuffled to the station, feeling worse for wear and took a train to somewhere near where I sleep. Got turfed out at Tonbridge and waited on the platform with hundreds of grey Britishers who managed some kind of Dunkirk spirit. Not me i was as maudlin as they come.
On Friday I spent so long in the bathroom I lost half a stone and felt bluddy arwfool.
Saturday was a bit better until we realised the cellar had water swilling round the ironing board and under my lovely old Persian carpet.
Yesterday was mopping and swilling, wearing wellies to the freezer for the frozen peas and cooking a roast with rooty veg and green stemmed shoots. By the time we had finished supper I was back to my best in the bathroom.
Today I woke, drove the car down to the garage and have maintained my attire since i don't know when I'll be paying a visit to the little room. meanwhile all my lovely yoga classes are going to the way of my youth…..
The wind is up but not very, the writing partner is here again tomorrow. She walked into her bedside paraphernalia and punctured her nose we are useless from top to toe.
I'm off now to wade into the nether regions to load the washing machine. If I'm not back by February 7th call Jim
Happy February to you.
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