Why, why, why Delilah?

Posted by Jeni in | 14 January 2014

I was feeling excited and renewed.

I'd booked up for 30 days of hot yoga. Started at the gym and reacquainted myself with my MBT trainers so I could bounce along the road.

I'd contacted my lovely Amy, who digs the garden and saves animals in her spare time.

I organised the kitchen cupboards, and was confident that my life was taking the right course, taking shape.

So confident was I that all was well that I nipped into my old hairdressers and said, as bold as you like, give us a make over.




She is a brilliant hairdresser but not for me….I don't take enough time to be bothered so I need a particular kind of cut that makes me look okay without any titivating.

Half way through the cut I knew I had made a monumental mistake. So monumental was the mistake that I had a secret panic attack. I will have to go back to my real hairdresser who will take me down to my beleaguered follicles again. I look at myself and see a deputy head teach with ambiguous leanings. I look absolutely terrible.

The exercising has corrupted my skin and my food intake is so bad that even King Kitty Solomon leaves the table when I start eating.

I made popcorn tonight but decided to chuck most of it away in case it damaged my new back teeth.

And so this morning, putting bad hair days behind me, after a 5.30 alarm I whipped out of bed. Dressed, picked up my bag packed from yesterday, parked the car, near the entrance, in the 4 quid a day car-park. Locked the door and shivered. It was 6.09. It was cold I had decided to wear my mothers leather coat from 1942, a cardigan, a t-shirt and a huge scarf wrapped round my neck and some of the flimsy bits of offending hair. Walked to the station, took my seat on the 6.21 and sat next to an old old friend who is a food stylist in the movies. We discussed the Caribbean, children and the changing nature of our business, after which I went to asleep whilst she texted her crew.

I fell into a deep coma, was woken at Charing Cross by a young man and walked smartly down Regent Street. Got to the Beeb by 7.45.

Yesterdays show was really good fun. 'L' thank you so much for your comments, and all of you who phoned and texted, emailed and face booked. It was lovely to be back even though I was sitting in Granny Feltz's chair.

I was booked for todays show only La Feltz, for reasons known only to herself, had called in at 5.55a.m. to say she wanted to do the show herself. I hadn't received the texts and messages in time. Got to reception, where I had to sign in - I am now persona non grata - I have to be collected and escorted. When I left in September with my brown cardboard box and lanyard it was instantly deactivated. Instead of the researcher collecting me the producer came down. Her face said it all. I was not needed, I had travelled for 2 and a 1/2 hours, in the pouring rain, only to be bumped at the door.

I turned round and headed for the tube, but was intercepted by the second in command who had got out of her warm bed to explain and apologise. Very decent of her. She took me across the rod to EAT.

After a lukewarm latté I arrived in Charing Cross where I had to wait for far too long for a train, something had happened somewhere on the South Eastern Line. I had time to reflect, being on the reserve bench is not good at the best of times but when you get to a certain age and the rest of he corporate world deems you over the hill, being bumped is awful.

By the time I got home my battery on my phone was practically down to nothing, so many calls had ensured between 8 tunnel breaks.

The positive side to today was I managed to grab a yoga class at the gym after which I went for a fierce walk. Bought myself some purple slippers that are far too small, a toast rack - just the right size - a bubble bath that smells of fig and something else, and a butterfly apron for B's godmother. I set off for home my MBT trainers bouncing me along like Tigger.

Having eaten my way through the fridge, I'm now on an eating sabbatical, enough already. Watched the Golden Globes, fell asleep with the kitty, who was purring so loudly i didn't hear the Senior cat come in and hiss at us.

It's now 23.24, I'm ready to read in bed, have a bath and enjoy the fact that I'm not getting up at 5.30 tomorrow. I will be on call for when the child gets circumsized, and I will do it graciously, the mobile telephone will be on at all times.

The one thing I won't be doing any time soon is looking in the mirror.

I feel like Samson, and that's the biblical character who lost his power after Delilah got out her hair clippers, not a mobile telephone.

Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes


1. At January 15, 2014 1:26 PM poopypeewee wrote:

WHY did La Felz feel she could just phone up and announce she would be in to work? Diva on London Radio ? Sounds like it.
I do hope that La Felz apologised to you. Pigs may fly comes to mind!

2. At January 16, 2014 9:01 AM June wrote:

Oh Jeni
We have all done that at some time, fully expecting to leave with a fab hairdo, instead of which we just want to wear a hat!
The thing is my hair grows very fast, until that is I have a cut that I loathe and then suddenly it goes on a go slow?

Keep well.
Love June

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