Sun Tan Grief

It’s fading. So keen am I to hang on to the last vestiges of being beige (in hue, not personality) I dash into a stand-up skin dying booth. Shock horror. I see my trainer in the reception area. We do the decent thing. We ignore each other. Me because I’m no longer training with him (or anyone) and him, I assume, because it’s a bit feeble to be seen tan topping when one is a big bloke.

Am wearing a talisman around neck (see pic) from Egypt to ward off bad omens and with this new vigour I have decide to up my income. My new approach thus far has been to beg for work on the internet. So far I have received three replies out of my 70 warm and friendly invitations to employ my versatile voice. These were to thank me for my interest but to share that I got their name wrong and also to mention, in passing, that they don’t make TV programmes that need voices any more. (Surely this has to be a lie?)

Undaunted, I am also selling my quirky, vintagey clothesies. A lady is taking photos of all my stuff. (Not undies – as if.) She lays my j brand velveteen jeans out on the wooden floor in an expert manner. ‘Are these clean?’ she asks sternly. ‘They most certainly are,’ I retort. And then secretly worry as I see her pick a fleck of something off the thigh …eew

No one was killed in the taking of this photo of my J brand jeans.
 Although it look as if they have been.

I want to sell my two antique French tables bought under duress so as not to disappoint the vulnerable antiques lady who was selling them. I phone up a new ‘old items’ shop in Dulwich to see if they want them. It seems that every yummy (not me as I am not yummy on purpose) mummy has tried to do the same thing and flog their faded, flecky, caravan fold-away camping item to said shop. The answer was a Scandinavian, stylish but firm ‘NO’.

Celebrity news? Was in Voice of Russia, St James Square, yesterday. Met the owner - a nice Russian man who was sporting a fisherman’s jumper (which didn’t surprise me) while Peter Hitchins plugged. 

Am mugging up on the news for SKY TV this Sunday  and  preparing for my STAND UP COMEDY APPEARANCE at THE ALBERT HALL where I am not headlining in any shape or form http://goo.gl/9QDKv #Most Amused 28th November. Coming?

At 'Stand Up To Cancer' Gala last night
 wearing my mother's shoes.

Windy in Whitby

I have been filming a TV series with Bernard Cribbins. I find walking, talking and riding a tricycle tricky enough - but remembering lines at the same time has slightly tipped me. Or maybe it was having to ride my adult trike down a ravine in the rain and say ‘busy busy’ in a cheery voice and try not to think about losing my life as I flew off into the sea. How do they do it on ‘Call the Midwife’?

One poignant memory is of Bernard and me sheltering in the rain... waiting for the raincoats to be cruelly whipped off before we did some acting. We were so blue our teeth were clicking

Bernard is not wearing wig.  I am.

The props were excellent. I nearly found myself eating a rubber fish it was so life like …

Me n the rather lovely Paul Hawkyard being actors quite near some water.

Very essential to keep energy high as it was also my birthday while I was away and there was a reasonable expectation for me to drink vodka. I couldn’t disappoint.  I double dosed on my Youth pill which is a food supplement and brilliant. www.beautyworkswest.com I saw Dinny Hall had spoken about it in a newspaper and since she does nice ear rings and said the Youth pills gave her more of everything - I decided to have some of what she was having . It certainly does that. The make up girl said I had more hair than most people (on my head) and she should know – she had to plait a strange plait into my hair every morning at 6 am. But she was stoic about it. I credit this hirsuteness to Youth and have vowed to book in to their Medi Spa in Notting Hill 8-9 Lambton Place, Notting Hill, London, W11 2SH T 020 7221 2248 to have what they call pampering but in a medi spa sort of way.  The L-Argonne gives the peppy energy and since this was invented by a Doctor who is also a hormone specialist .. who am I to jettison at this heightened time?

Missing you missing me possibly

Haven’t blogged for a wee while, so missing you missing me possibly

Got a scary twinge of the dark side of the internet after being a guest on Big Brother’s Bit on the Side on Monday.

Got carried away by the celebration sweeties in the Green Room and aligned myself needlessly for and against various celebrities I had never met before or heard of and I started to ‘Over Connect’ as opposed to EM Forster who ‘Only Connects’ ( Howard’s End before you ask, but you knew that ). Got my knuckles rapped from said celebrities’ loved ones on facebook and twitter and found myself feeling rather sick and vexed. I hate upsets. That’ll learn me.

Mind you Julian Clary spoke out against republicanism which may have been a departure for the CBB viewers.

For those not on a diet , and who haven’t given up drink in order to loose the weight for a job not vanity (I lie) and who therefore are not watching Celebrity Big Bro in their pj’s at 9, 10 and 11 respectively - it may be diverting to learn that I went to Jonathan Harvey’s book launch as well.

I was also invited which made the entrance less stressful. The shabby chic pub (velvet and peeled paint) was positively teeming with talented, good looking literati so had to immediately request vodka being too much of a suburban to ask for an absinth and a quill. Jonathan’s tweet on the night: “It’s my book launch tonight and I’m a bit over excited. I may actually piss myself” will whet your appetite. I can’t wait to get stuck in.

Did a few Sky News reviews since I last saw you. This time no one said my hair was like a dog’s dinner on that forum I accidentally came upon. Bloody right they didn't  - I had it tongued and sea salt sprayed as a precaution. Finally topical news not about me : Jeremy Hunt is a lucky ...

On Radio

The joys of radio are that all the people who act in radio plays are very nice - and also one has a laugh. I have not fathomed why this should be but it's true. I met some marvellous people in Manchester while doing the series Higher -where I play a woman who is long suffering and helpful (very similar to myself) This series is funny and written by a real academic so there … tune in


Afternoon Drama - Higher - Series 4


'Return of the comedy series by Joyce Bryant about the worst university in the UK - ranked 132nd in the academic league tables.'   Listen to the first episode - 'Clearing' - on iPlayer  (available until 6th August)

Next episode is on  Monday 6th August.

Heavy work and sexual enlightenment

I made my speaking debut at the Saddleworth Women’s Institute where I discovered that - to a man - every one of these stalwart members had read ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’. And there was me thinking I was being gently racy. In fact more than fifty hands shot up when I enquired (somewhat cautiously) if they had read this book of enlightenment and I was pleased to be told the book is now two for one in Smiths including free galaxy should I be interested.

So that’s a book group worth popping along to next time I’m passing by the moors.


But this wasn’t just a one way learning curve. Since I had been rashly invited up to talk about myself, I mentioned my daughter had been filming with Alan Partridge (sorry Steve) in his new film ‘King of Soho’ where her part had been promoted from prostitute to actress (understandably very proud) and where she had to do – I quote - ‘girl on girl action’ as well as wear a merkin (not to be associated knowingly with Firkin but then why would you?)


However when I enquired of the avid lady readers of Saddleworth if any of them knew what a merkin was I was greeted with a less unanimous reaction. Typically some members kindly explained to the less informed what a merkin did – which, I was pleased to observe, clearly demonstrates how the spirit of the WI is alive if not throbbing up north. When it was spelled out that a merkin served as a coverer upper for the private hair dept one lady in the front became stumped for the rest of my talk. She kept saying to her neighbour in mystified tones “but why would you want to?”


More good news in the enlightenment dept. I was presented with a pair of teapot book-ends in china – thankfully didn’t have to travel to said country to receive

More excitement at the Huffington Post first birthday party where I got caught up in the hip tingling sounds of the Noisettes - a welcome awakening I can tell you. I star-spotted Ken Livingstone in a crumpled beige linen number and Peter Tatchell who I noted opted for dark and white clothing on this special occasion. I remained on water and yet still jiggled. I even participated in great conversations which I can still remember - another first.

This is me finding my inner jiggle with an
amazingly invigorating NOISETTE …  

And now to tackle the lanes with the circles on them – or rather not tackle since Boris will charge me if I go in them - but I’m not going to be cowed. I’m going about my business as usual in my Ford Escort - Olympian presence or no. The only difference now is a new awakening in the joys of sports wear and it’s going to grow...I have just spent a bit of extra on quality lined leggings – I can now boast a shortened rouched mini trouser length with a hidden aertex gusset that lets you BREATHE … no merkin required …

Party Time

I was a ‘plus one’ for the HARPER COLLINS summer party – being reliably informed this was THE ONE to go to. Indeed it was – as thus far have not been acquainted with any other invite with the words ‘Summer’ or ‘Party’ It was to be held in the Orangery and since my invitation went to the wrong house number (I think this was an accident, but who knows?) - I assumed it was the Orangery where I had already been lucky enough to attend a book launch and a wedding ie a Posh greenhouse in Holland Park. So I buy high wedge shoes. I meet my friend. I insert wedge shoes on both feet at door and we are welcomed with a tumbler of elderflower cordial. (We could have had champagne but I am temporally off sauce and my friend doesn’t drink). A kind waitress offered to walk me to the lavvy which was right, right and right again – understandably I needed help given mild dyslexia but mostly due to the wedge shoes.

Quite high for a person used to wearing Scholl sandals or clogs
 and not a million miles from a cork notice board

When Diane timidly suggests the venue is smaller than last year, I say ‘Rubbish! This is The Orangery because I’ve been here before and anyway it says ‘Orangery’’.  Suddenly it dawned on us that the kind folk with shy smiles and gestures of middle class hospitality were not in fact members of the Harper Collins literati –i.e. no soft linen sports jackets and pashminas. Dianne firmly said ‘This isn’t the right party’. We panic. We then learn there is another Orangery in Kensington Palace. I reinstate my flip flops in order to walk to the road and hail a taxi. Our taxi driver is dripping. Diane suggests he lie on the grass in the nude to cool off.  He is polite. We now enter another Orangery - a hallowed party of proven wordsmiths, agents and others who have given their lives to the infrastructure of publishing and its testing demands. Did I say I am not drinking? (A temporary pause as I inch my way down to a normal size.) This means I can not slide into a alcohol fused banter where no one minds what one says because one looks glazed and benign. I am shocked to discover that for the first time in twenty years I am almost tongue tied. Had a good exchange with Nick Cohen – who sadly absented himself for a fag. And even though I had a catch up with Tracy Chevalier who has been fellow judge (darling), when I encountered Jonathon Lloyd (Curtis Brown literati and scribe) in a group he also left to circulate. My presence is causing a departure of guests – it’s now happened TWICE.    I back out smiling.  I walk past the mini-meringues without even stopping to pop one in bag.

Pic taken by Diane J Connell. She consumed 7 meringues and 8 éclairs.
 Fifteen sweet units in all - but I suspect it was a bit more.

I sail into a taxi still smiling. In my bed by 9.15 and ready for Jeremy Paxman.   Next challenge the Saddleworth Women’s Institute without a bevvy - can it be done?

Two festivals in search of an author

Just back from two festivals in Hay on Wye where the addled brain has been flossed by these gentlemen below

Rob Cowan,(journalist who shared my cab (£50) ) Gabriel Gbadamosi (brainy chair of my debate). Rob’s good looking mate, who is in the military, and I spoke on a platform seated on a very cosy chintz chair at HowTheLightGetsIn Festival (The title comes from Leonard Cohen but I didn’t know that and it didn’t stop me from attending).

The venue for the lovely event, Globe Hall, had an old pulpit at one end and filmed footage of the sea to look at on the side wall if one's mind dared to wander. Mine was firmly gripped into place as I had to offer views on ‘In an age of self publishing how essential is writing to individuality?’ among other punishing conundrums.

Then there was cider in huge great bottles that were handed over the bar top as if they were bottles of wine. 'All for moi?' I asked, before anyone could say ‘No they have to be shared you greedy old person’ and the afternoon tipped by in a rainy haze of other intelligent people watching.

The folk who turned out to my talk at the Hay Festival were consistently smiley with a lot of rain wear between them but at least there were a few questions – and not just about where I got my highlights done. I like to be interactive when it’s a small crowd and ask questions. One bright attendee suggested that ‘paedophile’ might be a suitable suggestion for a three syllable word which although correct, was a surprise. I thanked her and moved on. Always nice to get ‘input’ from the floor.

This is me trying to look like Joanna Trollope at my book signing  

And this is me not looking like her at all  

I have shifted a bit of merchandise – a few less copies of Finger Food left on Amazon now

A sign about a sign

This is me with a young poet Luke Wright who has an ironic look about him - we are signalling something implied to be in keeping with the philosophy of ideas theme 

Preparing for my WI talk somewhere in Manchester next.  Wonder if I’ll get scones? I bloody hope so