Is it that time already...?
16.26 and all I have done is drive and sit, wait and drive, sit and wait, sit and drive.
Somehow I am managing to meditate every morning, but that's about the only constant at the moment.
I am reading the papers in preparation for LBC which starts Saturday July 28th, 6-8pm. The longer I am away from performing, the more weird it all seems. But then, that is the same for everything - use it or lose it.
The cottage is in dire need of a good wash and brush up but I am really out of the zone today, so it can wait until Gae gets her bony little butt round here. Although she thinks she may be in love so I'll probably end up doing it myself. Have you noticed that when folk fall in love they become utterly useless? A kind of madness sets in. Dust patches remain, dog hairs get caught behind the door and the only topic of conversation is the new squeeze. Spare me!
Well, only for the heart stopping thing that happens at the beginning of anything new. Otherwise I wouldn't change Jim for the world. George Clooney maybe, but not the world.
BB is listening to drum and bass up in the attic - a job lot from J next door. 50p each CD. 'Sorry, it'll be over in a minute,' she has just called down. 'It's alright', I lied in that motherly way we do.
But they are so dated that she may decline the purchase. She 's just put on John Lee Hooker. That's more like it. Not that I am a blues kind of person. I always think that blues is a muso's music since most blokes fancy themselves as twelve-bar air-guitar nerds.
My taste in music ranges from Bach alongside Bruckner, over into Jaques Loussier, via Steely Dan over the top into Stevie Wonder and then head-long into Eric Benet.
My car is a very good sound system with an engine.
The weather dictates what kind of music accompanies a journey. If it's hot - yes, an unfamiliar concept this year - and in the 20's then the hoods down and Maxi Priest may be turned up to at least 21 on the decibel level.
The only time Carlton, the security man at GFL's studios, spoke to me was when I swung into the car park with Maxi Priest at full blast. Carlton told me how to stand in the dance hall so that I attracted the most men with the minimum of effort. Considering I am well past my sell-by date, it was a little like teaching your grandmother to suck carrots. But I welcomed the conversation.
When the weather turns dark and cold, I have heat on my feet and a really good Charley Haydon. His bass playing and melody is worth driving through the night for.
These days I don't drive so much so I tend to listen to the Radio 4, or 2, or LBC. I do not listen to music on the train. I like to listen to other people's conversations. Being cut off is not good for a body.
This morning BB had an appointment in TWells, which I was invited to. Then we had to drop her car off for a service. It will cost more than the tin-can is worth. At least the garage man told us the truth.
Then into the shops for dog tins and cat pouches. Emmy will only eat jelly. Give her gravy and she kicks up a puss-fuss, and definitely no fish.
A handful of vegetables and seeds, then back for a quick 20 minuter round the houses. The rain is short and sharp today. Heavy showers with a smattering of sunshine in-between. We talked about the weather in the chemist where I bought Jackson's brown rice, in the pet shop where I bought his diamond eye clear solution, and in the jewellers where we had B's watch fixed. Everywhere, in fact. But the only good thing about the weather this year is that I have never seen as many blackberry flowers in 24 years. We will have jam, pies and summer pudding coming out of our ...ears silly.
Harry Collins, 'the quaint little jewellers in Tunbridge Wells' to quote yesterday's Evening Standard, is now the royal jewellers. On the counter in Mr. Collin's shop is a signed picture of the Queen and her hubby. How quaint is that? We went in to have the watch fixed but they couldn't do it - the brand was too cheap. Not surprising as the cheapest rings in the window were in the region of £45,000. They have a burly security man on the door and an assistant circa 1953 who has braces on her teeth. Why? Her kissing days are long over.
You won't believe this but BB has just had a go at me for having a go at the woman with the train tracks. I said she will never read this. B said somebody else might. I said so what? So then the off-spring sighed the sigh of a daughter who has had as much as she can possibly take of her bloody mother.
However, after yesterday's breaking news, there was a lone photographer outside the quaint little jewellers shop in the high street in Tunbridge Wells who was encouraging the burly bouncer to have his picture taken. The be-Crombied guard declined. I nearly offered my services, but I've never been that much of a royalist, although the publicity might have come in handy. Dear old Harry Collins will go up to the Palace, once a week, to shine her madge's bijouterie. I wonder where he keeps his duster?
It looks like there's another shower brewing. The drum and bass is about to bust my nut and the dog wants his rice and chicken. I, on the other hand, need to lie down, put my feet up and finish the book I'm reading before embarking on yet another second hand novella. The one I am reading at the moment is SO bad. It's all about an artist and an ex-lover who is blackmailing her. I can't bear it but I need to know what is lurking in the undergrowth.
If anything happens between now and midnight I'll let you know. Otherwise take it easy and cusoon.
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
What do you think of Market Kitchen, tell the truth...
So how exactly are you supposed to stand in the dance hall so that you can attracted the most men with the minimum of effort? I feel you should share your secret, so we can all benefit from the effect...!
Martin and David in Brighton
Being in love is digital, somewhat like smallpox. Either you are ot not. And second, no english cottage is in a need of a wash. They all are in good need of yoghurt and horse-p*** in order to look like 500 years old, dear hobbits.