Month: March 2008

Give us a choice

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TO WHOM IT MAYCONCERN: I did not have any pudding at the Ivy! Today the programme was really grown up. We discussed the MMR jab and a doctor called in who was so rude, calling anything that wasn’t scientific ‘witchcraft’. Thankfully another doctor called in to apologise on behalf of other scientifically minded medics. The … Read more

The Jolly and the Ivy

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This morning I went for my run. It was on with my heart moniter, trainers securely tied, and head down against the biting wind.
I ran along the river, the smells of ozone, the squawks of seagulls and the houseboats bobbing about in the water made for a wonderful 20 odd minutes.
Just as I got to St. Marys church a cyclist overtook me.
A woman.
A woman wearing a camel coat.
A woman wearing a camel coat, black shoes and blue, serge trousers.
A woman wearing a motley variety of clothing cycled past me, instead of using sturdy bicycle clips the woman opted for:
wait for it
TAN POP SOCKS.
TAN POP SOCKS!
TAN POP SOCKS over her blue, serge turn-ups.
Tan pop socks over her blue serge turn-ups as she cycled past me in Battersea.
That kept me going for at least 15 of those 20 odd minutes.
The fact that I noticed her meant I was back in the land of the living, the last few weeks, I’ve had my head up my own glycaemic index.

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Birthday Bliss

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THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY WISHES. When I have scraped the snow off the cottage windows and dusted down the clematis on the walls, when I have walked Jackson and eaten the bestest ever shoulder of lamb infused with Indian spices, when I have taken freshly brewed coffee with the old man and two … Read more

OK Thursday

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OK Thursday is the day before Good Friday.
It is cold, wet and completely unspring like.
This morning I had to wear my gloves when I was running.
Little black things they are, which grow when you put your fingers in.
I had my keys in one hand and my clock in the other all clutched neatly in my palm as I ran past the river..

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Acupuncture 4 me

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My eye lids feel like saucepan lids. My legs feel like lead. Mr brain feels like blancmange. I had more needles in me than a porcupine. I am now ready for bed. Ooee! but I do so like your comments, all of you. don’t worry about me I am as fit as a fiddle and … Read more

Sugar and Spice and all things nice

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For those of you who heard Steve Allen go on about my blood sugar level,let me tell you that the idea of taking drugs is beyond the pale.
I have taken myself in hand and cut out every bit of sugar I can find.
All raw food till I can stabilise my body.
An egg here a bit of mackeral there.
Lots of water and loads of proper suppliments.
The whole sugar thing started with my father and ended with my medical last week.

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A slice of Humility

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The flat is quiet. Di is performing tonight and Dan has gone with her. Jim is rehearsing and BB is teaching bass in Shoreditch. I have just come in from taking Jackson out in the rain for a spot of air. and now, at 17.21 I am settling in for a quiet night. My guest … Read more

Come lie with me

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Liar Liar
Pants on fire…
And were my cheeks red?
We discussed lying with a pyschologist from Manchester, a Mr. Beattie.
A lie is a deliberate attempt at deception, we discussed body language, that mens lies are self serving and womens lies are to protect and keep the peace, we discussed congenital lying, when a lie is ok and then we discussed the greatest lie of all:
Is there a FATHER CHRISTMAS?.
Huge apologies to all the children that were listening, there is/isn’t a Father Christmas, depending on whether you are old/young enough to understand/not understand the concept of societal collusion….

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Life and Death

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Yesterday I went to a funeral in Hendon. North London.
I climbed aboard the tube in Clapham South, went through East London and ended up in Mill Hill East.
The whole of London passed through my carriage, terrific.
I arrived two hours too soon, the wind was cold but the sun heated my bones. I caught the 240 bus, dismounted at the big red gates of the cemetery and wandered thorough the grounds.
It was too cold to hang around so I walked back up the hill and sat down in a cafe sandwiched between a real butchers, with a new phlock of pheasants in the window, and a kosher deli.
I didn’t think it was appropriate turning up at the chapel with a carrier bag full of dead birds and latkes, so I didn’t buy anything. But I did have a big full English breakfast which warmed the cockles.
The cemetery was shot with sunlight, Chinese, Indian, Italians, Jews, all laId to rest under elaborate marble head stones. There was even a family called CAME, I couldn’t help but think they CAME they SAW they etc.

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Oven ready mayhem

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I’m eating spinach, watercress and rocket salad with home made chopped liver.
I always make it the same way. Onion and garlic – lots of it -sweated in olive oil, loads of chicken livers cooked on high until the blood has stopped running then a big splosh of dark, syrupy sherry, seasoned until the juices are even more syrupy, all whooshed up in a food processor with raw onion and garlic added to give it bite then hard boiled eggs grated on top.
Bobs your uncle, or Becky’s your aunt, dee-lic-ious.
I am eating it as we speak.
My keyboard must have the best fed crumbs in London.
I normally write my blog the minute I get in from LBC, I’m always hungry
after 3 hours on air, but today I was particularly ravenous. The show was gruelling, I don’t know whether it was me, you or the News hounds.

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