Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 12 April 2014
Two weeks have gone so quickly.
BBC Sussex and BBC Surrey is a joy to work on.
Yesterday, though I got up at 6.15, and the room started spinning. Sat down. It kept on spinning. Went to the bathroom, followed by King Solomon who is my chosen date when God's Gift is way. Brushed my teeth and kazaam. I was sick. Stood up, Solly staring at me. By the time I got back into the bathroom I knew I wasn't going to make the show.
I called in, took to my bed and spun my way through Friday. It was horrible.
I blamed everything I could, little sleep, too much coffee, unsuccessful writing debut, but in the end I was told it was a 24 hour bug.
Today the alarm went off at 6.15 I leapt out of bed, the spinning hardly there, went to the bathroom and after computing in my head what day it was, remembered it was Saturday.
Crawled back into bed where I stayed till 10.00
After three phone calls and a quick bite I am now ready to go upstairs and do some writing. I wanted to mow the lawn but I think I may be pushing the boat out.
I have one week left in Brighton.
Then the old man and I will have a life together for the first time since last September,
No more eating in front of each other on Skype. No more endless FaceTime conversations. No more being alone at night. No more grubby digs for him. No more endless travelling. No more home-alone-cats.
But there will be arguments as we booth adjust to each other being there. It's got to better than being apart. I calculated that I have about 20 years max left with him. he said, 8! That did it. When he gets home I'm going to try and book a holiday, work commitments allowing.
I'm tempted to get that mower out of the shed though......
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 3 April 2014
its just gone half past four.
I sat in front of the telly eating my lunch, when the phone went. Trotted upstairs to discuss something I'd written and hours later have just resurfaced.
Drove to pick up a letter from the post office that had £1.50 postage to pay. AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL. Do they deliberately send their mail out unstamped so they save money?
Hoovered up the oats I dropped yesterday. The kitchen looked like a chicken shed.
Todays show was sprightly. I interviewed a woman, PAM SMART from Lancing. Who has written a book called WHO'S AFRAID OF THE TEDDY BEARS PICNIC.
An inspirational woman, living testament to the bravery and recovery of the human being. After years of horrendous abuse, not being listened to, ECT treatment, children and two major breakdowns she not only has trained as a psychotherapist, she is a positive force in the room. if you do nothing else, spend your spare dosh on her book. Just so that she is vindicated.
Jenny Eclair came on to talk about the forthcoming tour of 'Grumpy Old Women'. I told her I was one and wanted to be seen as one. To get paid for moaning - well thats what I call a job.
I'm knackered now. Tonight my 8.30 candle lit yoga, then tomorrow I write my second scene. Saturday I sleep and garden, Sunday I garden and sleep then its back to BBC Sussex in Brighton bright and early Monday morning.
I enjoy the fullness of everything even though I am completely creme crackered.
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 2 April 2014
You know how you put it off - we call it washing the label off the whiskey bottle. When you need to deadline some writing, shopping, cooking, hoovering, washing, dusting, reading, whateva!
When you have deadlines and you don't want to do it procrastination sets in. The old git stands at the sink and washes labels off bottles, normally a whiskey flaggon since he likes his single malts.
Anyway I should be writing two scenes of dialogue and the prospect is so frightening I'm putting it off. I will, I will I will do it after this.
Eyes tightly closed fingers crossed.
The show was interesting. 20 mph speed limits. Two Mr. Angry's and a woman who wanted to blame all men for all the speeding problems. It is true that according to the stats of 7 years ago 97% of all speeding offenses were committed by the less fair sex.
Then we talked pollution, the reddish dust you see on your brand new Mercedes is sand from the Sahara. Who needs THOMAS COOK for a flavour of the exotic?
As it's National Autism day we talked about how to cope with Autism in your family. Sam Hilton told me about her two sons, both diagnosed with the condition. With three children to look after and the stress of coping with the Autism her marriage, inevitably, broke down. Alone and desperate, not knowing what to do or how to do it she finally bit the bullet and opened a school with 6 other parents of Autistic kids. STE BY STEP is the result of their hard labour.
Bung 'em some cash if you can.
Your calls about living with Autism were very, very touching.
Then we played some music and I interviewd a vibrant young woman LAURA WILKINSON who has written a novel PUBLIC MATTERS PRIVATE LIVES set in the miners strike. The women found themselves 'finding' themselves', helped their damaged men, and for some changed their lives for good.
Then I interviewed Alan Davis, he of the hair, Creek and QI. What a lovely feller. I hungup on him though when he said I would PROBABLY get free tickets for his show in TWells. If he had said IT WOULD BE A PLEASURE TO DEFINITELY GIVE YOU TWO FREE TICKETS I would still be talking to him.....
The only problem with BBC SUSSEX - and it's not their fault - is that there are no spare car-park fobs which means I have to be escorted to get my car out and met with a fob to get me in..
BLOOMIN RIDICULOUS. Wayne had to leave the BBC shop, where he's been for twelve years, and walk me to the garage. He pressed his fob up against the wall and left me in the porch.
There is already red paint on the white wall and white paint on Nellies left thigh. The space is just too small to turn a car in. Well it wouldn' be for Lewis Hamilton but it bloodiwell is for me.
And this is the official BBC car park.
Car Park backwards is Krap Rac.
I rest my case.
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 1 April 2014
After the show I walked along the seafront. FAST. Sun shining. Lots of dogs. A smily kind of day.
We had talked about smoking, bullying, Butlins in Bognor Regis, the price of England's football shirt - £90 - and we played lots of lovely music. David, the engineer, new to me, knew all the words of all the songs, all the singers who sung them, all the producers who produced them and what year they were released.
I could not compete, although my dancing in the chair was better than his even with his air guitar.
I drove home with the top down on Nellie. Feeling good with the world.
Then the gloom. My lovely cleaner could not find the spare key which wasnt where it should have been.
The cottage looks like Beirut and the cats looked miserable. They had been alone since 6.30.
I was also waiting for a delivery of the new vacuum cleaner.
Called Jim and shouted.
'What are you shouting for?' he shouted back. I could tell he was pleased to be 200 miles away.
I launched into a tirade about the cleaner, the key, being tired, being on my own, wanting the vacuum cleaner.....
Then I had a brain wave. I got Jim to text me the delivery company's number. It didn't work. So I googled the company and found a tracking number.
'What was the telephone number you used to order the vacuum cleaner? I punched in the number and stabbed the hash tag.
'Is this the right post code?' said the automated voice. I pressed 1 for yes.
'Your parcel was delivered at 2.10 and signed for my 'krgh om [ptvj'
I hung up, baffled. Who the flaming hell was krgh om [ptvj?
I tried the number again and went through the whole procedure.
This time the automated voice was female. No loss of temper but the signature still didn't make sense.
I ran round the dirty house, ( remember no cleaner ) knocked next door, where the 12 year old was home alone and too nervous to open the door to anybody.
So I tried the parcel firm again. This time I was ready with a pencil. I wrote down each letter as she robotised it.
'The parcel was signed for by Lestin Porch.'
There is nobody of that description living anywhere near us with a name like Lestin.
I thought it might be our South African neighbours, Lestin sounded like a convincing South African name.
Looking at the letters, I deciphered the code and realised I had mistaken the 'F' for an 'S' and what she actually said was 'LEFT IN PORCH.'
The automated voice had said the signee was called left in porch, when in fact the parcel had been left in the porch.
The trouble with all this is that we don't have a porch
We don't have a piggin porch and yet I went looking for one!
I went next door again and the kid said no porch delivery here sorry.
Ran round outside, no porch anywhere. And then I realised that the porch was in the front of our buildings.
So I ran round to the front and there, as large as life was a huge cardboard box, balanced precariously on my next door neighbours step.
I tried to lift it but it was too heavy for me, I hammered the cardbox in frustration and wept.
My mind was getting clearer I would empty the vacuum cleaner out of the box onto our step. And that is what I did. I dumped the cardboard box, opened my front door and after much heavy breathing retrieved the new device.
My cleaner, if she ever turns up again, will be really pleased. She can hoover upright now and actually pick up the dirt, of which there is much since she missed a week.
I had no idea I was in such a bad mood. It's because I'M HUNGRY AND I CANT EAT AS I'M GONG TO YOGA. Sorry I'm shouting again.
I phoned jim back to apologise, but that slipped my mind as he launched into a story about Facebook and cats.
I may just have a nip round now with the new machine, tidy home tidy mind.....On second thoughts I'm calling my cleaner again.....
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Posted by Jeni in | 31 March 2014
6.15 off went the alarm. They were already talking about something heavy, I cant remember what it was now.
Left the cottage, the cats, the cute little 'oosbind, and set off for Brighton. Got there with only two idiots to hold me up. Drove down to the seafront then right past the Odeon and parked outside the BBC shop.
Rung the bell. Nothing.
Rung another bell. Nothing.
Made a phone call and down came Simon with the fob for the car park. I was ringing the wrong bell in the wrong doorway. Hell yeah good way to start a new job.
We drove to the car par. A narrow piece of tarmacadamed security. Slotted Nellie in and walked back round to the studio.
Continue reading "Good job." »
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Posted by Jeni in | 28 March 2014
Horror of horrors. I had to cancel both my yoga and my writing in Brighton.
First reason: The old git got a bug. I brought out all the guns from Beechams Powders - which I can't take as I'm allergic to the Aspirin - all the Potters cough and cold syrups and a stonking saucepan of Chicken soup.
Second reason: the dawter, who is working in a fancy schmancy shoe shop to pay her rent, picked up the latest bug. She say it's like working in a Petrie dish. In the end we had to take her to the doctors because potentially her chest was about to give out. Dear Dr. B gave her 'Amoxycillin' which theoretically should have cleared her. Our homeopath always cleans up the damage. Only this time it proved to be noxious, she came out in a red rash in her 'private parts' to quote the side effects label. Back to Dr. B who gave her steroid cream and told her to come back if it got worse.
Whilst rehearsing with her lovely guitarist, MD she started itching all over. Dump 'em said me and him.
Continue reading "Plus ça change, plus c'est meme chose" »
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Posted by Jeni in | 25 March 2014
There were different phases to my birthday.
The build up with people phoning and arranging.
The arrival of guests and gifts.
The cock-up with people who's heads were up their alimentary canals.
There was the dinner.
Coffee with scones and nibbling on left over crumbs.
There was the trip to the pub with two old friends. The catchup and the realisation that friends really do 'do the trick.'
There was too much fizz and not enough time.
There was the absence of geographically challenged friends and family.
Thank heavens for Skype to Bali & New York, La La Land and Germany.
Too many late nights and not enough sleep.
The holding onto the last vestiges of people who had to leave.
And then it was all over.
Today I am 65+1 day.
Have just been interviewed for a local website. Wondered whether I should mention my age and decided that by not mentioning it I was bu ying into the received wisdom that we are dead after 50 - women especially.
The next twenty years are going to be interesting. 85 and still demanding to be heard...
Th wet, icy weather made my head hurt this morning. I went for a brisk constitutional.
15 lambs skreiked for they mums. Each had a number on the side of their little wooly bodies. Made me sad. I've decided that meat eating has to be done with consciousness. No ramming it down the throat. An occasional piece of meat from an animal that has been compassionately killed. Rows and rows of shelves in the supermarket with bloody packets of slaughtered animals does not do it for me. But a trip to the butchers where their first call is responsible farming makes it easier.
My Balinese son-in-law told me he couldn't eat raw food anymore, made him ill. That he had to take in animal protein more often than not. So I listened in the knowledge that my body has been complaining just like his. When my brother told me to stop being so anal I wondered if I could change the habit of a lifetime and decided that at 65 if things need changing then now is the time to change them.
Jim is packing for the last leg of his tour The dawter is off back to London so I will be left with two cats, an empty house and skiploads of quiet. The telly machine is on the blink and our heating bill is too high for its own good.
So I will be curled up in my big bed, alone, with birthday books and whichever cat gets there first.
I start at Radio Sussex on Monday, when everything habitual will change.
For now though today its yoga, tomorrow its a meeting in London then candlelit yoga, Thursday its lunch with a brilliant thinker, then my writing course, Friday its more yoga and Saturday morning poses, then a long wait for the old git to return by 3.00 a.m.
Makes me sleepy just thinking bout it.
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Posted by Jeni in Ad Infinitum | 22 March 2014
Jeni and Olly's west Coast Wine adventure is on the Travel Channel. I can't tell you the number because we're all different. BUT
They are repeating it andrepeating it, so you will, with determination and patience find it.
I am sitting in my kitchen with red and black leggings on, thats me not the kitchen....a red and black top. Tiny little black pumps and a fetching black v necked sweater.
I have eyeliner, mascara and lipstick on, and I'm waiting.
Waiting for Lyn and Tony, Jeff and Jill, Sarah, Annie, Sasha, and my brother. With B and Lindy, Jim and myself twelve of us will eat in the local curry house.
I've bought a dozen ridiculous cupcakes with lollypops and twinkles and the table is booked for 8.00
We've been told the round table is only for 8, so a long table will have to do. At a push they could seat ten at the circular table, but I told them, there will be twelve. Well, they said, they'll hold the table until we confirm.
So at noon Jimbo confirmed twelve.
I've yoga'd and written and showered and eaten the Turkish Delight that B gave me. and now, with the brother having arrived ten minutes ago, I'm getting ready for the Saturday birthday bash.
Hurrah for 65
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