The sun came out.
Took my tiny little stop watch into the garden and turned the wooden chair towards the sun.
Meditated for at least half an hour and felt the warmth of the rays going through me. Threw open my green, rubber yoga mat and set about doing 15 minutes of The Tibetan Five.
Yes Justin, I do think dancing would be better than walking but I'm not ready yet for a jiggy jig......
The grass comes up to my ankles. Daisies, clover and more daisies everywhere it's been far too wet to mow.
I have cleared my studio ready for my new constituted computer. I'm told its like a Ford Escort on the outside but has the qualities of a Porsch on the inside and costs less than a a box of tea from Lidl.
So it'll be my book in the studio and my comedy drama in the house.
This morning, however, I took advantage of my newly mended dishwasher.
Yesterday I washed everything in the cupboard underneath the dresser, from Portuguese tureens to Spanish earthen ware dishes. The sparkling crockery made my day.
I apologised to the woodworms, spiders and assorted dried dragon flies that had gathered in the corners of the woodwork. They all went straight down the vacuum nozzle.
My dresser in the kitchen was bought from a neighbour 28 years ago when I lived in Wapping. It cost me £250 I'm told its worth a lot more - who cares - its my dresser.
Top shelf has two vases with flutes in. Feng Shui don't you know. Its meant to ward off bad spirits and bring in the music of life. Having dusted them and washed them they may well stand a chance now of bringing in some sacred music.
In between the vases I have two dreadful chachkahs - Yiddish for awful ornaments - the big green, yellow, red and blue mosaic one with cut glass jewels stuck over it, was given to me by my sister-in-law, which I cannot throw away, she died last January. The other one, an attempt at Ming, was gifted to my by one of my oldest friends, I am Godmother to her son. I dare not throw it away, couldn't face the consequences.
They stand next to two handsome speakers with the best sub-woofers in town.
29 mugs hang from hooks in front of the three shelves.
The first shelf has blue plates, willow pattern and bent ones from my grandmother, a brandy snifter from France, an Italian wine glass that takes half a bottle of wine, 4 Belgian beer glasses that stand in wooden frames and a couple of glass salad - dressing bottles that were gifts from our Swedes, talk about entente cordial.
The next shelf down has a Coronation teapot from 1953, full of Egyptian money, some hand made ceramic bowls and beakers made by an artist from Gabriels Wharf, which I bought when I worked at ITV, they have snails climbing up them, the 'oosbind says they are so badly designed they should go to the tip. He is a Philistine. There are at least five hand-painted plates with lots of 'I LOVE YOU' messages written in different styles.
The third shelf has a reclining naked lady attached to a scrubbing brush, sent to me from Canada by a dear friend who lived next door to me in Wapping and now lives in Philadelphia.
There is piece of The Berlin Wall, from when it came down, Bone China cups, a marzipan figurine of me made by Andrew Nutter when 'Good Food Live' ended. She has two raised marzipan arm, two bags of flour attached to her marzipan hips. A cauliflower and assorted vegetables adorn her marzipan belly, not to mention the beauty spot on her marzipan bosom.
There are toys and angels, a leather bag made from a goat's scrotum, cake stands from B's boyfriend - Wedgewood if you don't mind - a wonderful photograph of Gods Gift and a handpainted mug full of pencils.
There's a round Tiffany dish containing stamps, a square Chinese dish containing aniseed balls in. A wonderful fifties flowery thing in which there is a heart-shaped red box with B's first ever curl, and another ceramic red, heart-shaped dish with plastic lighters - loads of them - from when people smoked.
I sprayed beeswax polish and buffed all the wood. ready to take the cups, in there saucers, which sit on the first shelf.
One cup, the thinnest of bone-china, for tiny fingers, is an Aynsley set with flowers inside and the most delicate sedge green on the outside. There is a fine white, bone-china set, cup, saucer and plate, that my mother kept for me in her flat. I won't drink out of mugs and I only like white. We rescued it from her flat when she moved to Brighton. It's a deliciously thin Wedgewood.
I have two square mugs bought for me by my homeopath for my 60th birthday. Utterly impractical but so colourful with 'Love, Love, Love', written all over them in primary colours. I have the sweetest Staffordshire cup and saucer, bought by the middle daughter, tiny red roses on a white background, the cup stands in front of her other two gifts. Gold rimmed, olive green plates with full blown purple peonies lavishly painted all over them.
On the second shelf there are two tiny silver goblets, nicked from my mother and a beautiful glass chalice a present for our wedding . Its engraved with our wedding date. May 25th 1988. Inside there are some silver spoons bought for the dawter when she was born. Lest I forget they tell me how long, heavy and old she is and at what time she was born on March 2nd.1987.
The dresser is all buff now, and everything on it, of which I have only told you some, is clean and shiny.
I do need to get on with my writing, and you could call it displacement activity, but polishing my little brass saucepan with two tiny bottles of Frankincense and Myrr oils in, has been a joy. The old man is out playing golf with the girls boy, the girl is soaking in a tuber rose bath and I am still in my jim-jams.
It's four thirty, I'm leaving my house tonight to go into London for a 10.00 o'clock show at a Jazz club in Tin Pan Alley. I am being interviewd by DAVID BEDELL - the beautiful Mexican American actor from 'Torch Song Trilogy' - at 10.45. we'll stay till the end of the show at midnight, cimb into the car, and the old git will drive us home.
At 2.30 I will climb into my bed but not before I admire my dresser and peep into the cupboard underneath.
I'm know Iris Murdoch didn't wash her plates before writing her masterpieces, or Simone de Beauvoir, Quentin Crisp or Enid Blyton.....Oh Hell maybe I should have left the polishing to someone else, or maybe it is possible to wash and write at the same time.......
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
Oh my ! you dressers sounds amazing a whole little world of memories living on shelves!what stories the items could tell. xxhugxx