September 13th is over
dear Paul, Thank you for your concern, the Neurofen worked, although I have to admit they are always a last resort.
It's 8.15 and I've tried to watch Joanna Lumley being cat woman but it was less about the moggies and more about Ms. Lumley. Whilst I do love Ms L, the programme was less informative than I would have liked. I bet that surprises you Paul, I do like a little science now and then.
saturday felt ever so long.
Bee arrived back from Greece, she had left her car parked in my underground garage so I suggested I collected her from Hackney, drove her back to Battersea and then she could collect her four wheels and all would be well.
I got to Southwark Bridge turrned left not believing the 'no entry' sign. I never do, when the road is up I always hope that they have made a mistake, I am, however, always wrong, as indeed I was on Saturday morning. I turned the little red car round and drove onwards towards London Bridge. Dithered about which way to go finally decided to cross the Thames over London's very own crossing. Two minutes on the tarmac and I got a phonecall. 'Hi ma, I'm on the 48, I've just seen you in your car.' from the front bus seat I could see my daughter waving. Paul, What are the odds of me and my daughter meeting in such a fashion? I bet there's some kind of scientific equation. Anyway she climbed off with three straw hats, a big shiny bag and a red suitcase. All three squeezed into the front seat. and we arrived in Hackney in time for her to have a shower and me to win at Patience. Then we set off for Battersea.
She kissed her dad, gave him his hat - which he has since doctored with toweling strips and superglue, it now fits his head as opposed to blinding him by falling down over his eyes - a bottle of B-oouzo and me an olive branch - quite literally with lots of little shrivelled olives - and a hard baby pomegranete.
She drove off, all tanned and excited, into her life, and Jim and I went to Brick Lane
We inhaled the smell of curries, sweets and joss sticks, bought three peacock feathers for our birthday girl we were visiting andd stopped off in 'The Duke of Uke'. A supremely charming shop that sells ukeleles and tenor guitars one of which the old git bought.
Then it was off to South Hampstead to 'The Garden Gate' Pub. Apart from Beverly Knights bass player, the handsome weather man from Sky and Liam Gallagher the whole place was heaving with kids, chips, a Hog Roast and our birthday party.
We all hugged and sipped, slurped and rabbitted, I handed over the peacock feathers; 'Very Seventies' said the birthday girl, until it was time to feed the metre.
Jim and I drove back to Hackney and had supper in Mangals. We shared the starters, hummus, aubergine, tztiki and hot tomato relish, a huge plate of grilled lamb, more bread than in Kingsmills factory's and Turkish delights. At £7.50 a head it was worth every carboed mouthload.
Jim and I flapped across the road and went to see David Mamet's THE SHAWL. One hour long, clever acting, clever writing, very well done, only I slept through half of it, I blame the chick peas....
We left at 9.00 and arrived back in the cottage at 10.15.
Today we had the grandaughter and middle child in the kitchen. We are all exhausted from our eldest daughters tribulations, so now at 8.40 I am almost ready for bed.
I do wish that you,dear Paul, would stop having a go. If you dislike me that much don't read my blog.
tarra to the rest of you and a deep breath for a good week.
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
Just remember Jeni, those who can, do, those who can't, bully. Don't know who said it but it's true, (or as they say in The Wire, "true dat").
Lerve xxx Fee
I have said it many times, I love reading your blogs, they brighten my days(some of which are very dark at the moment), and I like you wonder why if Paul dislikes you so much does he bother to read your blog !
Or as my Gran would no doubt say to him, "Paul, if you can't say anthing nice, then dont say anything at all !"
I think people like Paul just like being able to use the anonymity of the internet to say things. If he was face to face with you he probably wouldn't have the nerve to say anything, nice or nasty.