The Plimsoll Line
I had to pre-record Will Young this morning at 10.15.
I hurumphed out of bed. Groggy, knackered, hungry and late.
Only did the minimum prep and left the flat in time for the 8.45 170.
IT WAS LATE.
When the bus finally came it sat on Parkgate Road whilst a recorded female voice told us that we were catching up so we would be sitting round the corner from Battersea bridge for bit.
IT WAS GETTING LATER.
We got over the bridge, trundled down the embankment, stuttered into Pimlico, limped down to Victoria then sat in a bus jam for five minutes.
IT WAS GETTING EVEN LATER.
Finally I entered Victoria tube. So many people I knew it wasn't going to work. Rugby tackled my way down the escalator, the only time I feel small. HUGE men with their brief cases, umbrellas and newspapers, HUGE women with their spiky heels and handbags.
Why do I hate women putting make-up on in public?
Got down to the platform, people were standing six deep. There had been a cock up with the trains. Went up the escalator and packs of commuters, dead-eyed, obedient, silent, mentally drumming their fingers were kept standing at the barriers. No-one allowed in as the sheer volume of bodies was too much for the system.
I left the station to take a taxi. There were no taxis. Nothing for it I would have to walk.
IT WAS NOW TOO LATE.
I had 35 minutes to get to WILL.
Called work, to alert them that I had been a victim of London melt down, pulled my bag onto my shoulder and set off down to Buck House, crossed the Mall, through St. James', over Haymarket through the back streets and into Leicester Square.
I had on my £2.50 children's plimsolls. They had served me well. I felt like I wanted to take up the egg and spoon or even the sack race them there plimsols were so fleet.
I WAS NOT LATE.
I arrived in time to hear that my audience figures had gone up and that I have over 400,000 listeners. Thank you all so much.
Read the blurb on Mr. Young then went up one floor to talk to him
It is now official I LOVE MR. WILL YOUNG.
His humility, his humour, his honesty, I wanted to take him to dinner, breakfast, tea, it didn't matter. Now I know why he is called the nicest man in the bizness. He proves that success does not have to be wrapped up in selfish cynicism.
The show was hard - its half term -and my playground posse were obviously out doing whatever my yummy mummies do at half-term.
I left LBC at 4.00 and walked to Bond Street.
Cor Blimy the surge of humanity that wanted to shop was too much for me. I felt ever so small again. HUGE men wielding handbags, HUGE women wielding handbags.
Nipped into HMV, the daughter has got a temporary job there.
Fought to get out and elbowed my way down Oxford Street.
Wended my way into Wardour Street and had a lovely supper in a little organic veggie restaurant. The coffee was wrong so they made it again. I like it with two shots, hot when it arrives with just a little froth on top. Their first offering had so much froth on it I didn't know whether to drink it or shave with it.
Slowly my plimsolls walked me back to the Haymarket to take my seat in row 'O' to watch 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'.
OH! indeed. I fell asleep at 7.30, woke at 8.33, it was still as turgid as before my nap, so I creaked out and walked to Victoria. Kicking through the crispy leaves.
A rounded day, past Buck House, onto the 170, back in the flat, off with the shoes, on with the wrap around sarong thingy, a kiss for the old git and a sigh for the evening.
I am giving out an award at THE CURRY AWARDS next Tuesday, for Mr. James Whale, so I have called Shakeel to make me something Indian. Tomorrow is Friday, I am in the cottage for the weekend, I will have one hour with Shakeel on Monday night. If he gets it right I will eat my chapati.....
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
Women applying make-up in pub;ic - I so agree! What on earth makes them think it is anything other than deeply unattractive!
What about the dress on the Kings Road - will you go inside the store with Shakeel? Love to you all L x