Janey's Blogs - June 2007
Sunday the 3rd
of June 2007
07:22:12 PM
Home again naturally…
Yes, bleak rainy
Glasgow is good reminder of where I am from. I am glad to see the rain
of Scotland batter off my bedroom window, believe me…after all
that oppressive heat of NY; I am bathing in the rain!
I have slept more than I should and now it is Sunday afternoon and Ashley is sitting playing her guitar and making me smile.
How I missed her!
I bought her G Unit rapper clothes in NY and she loved them, I was concerned
about the sizes as the hoodie top was huge and I was utterly convinced
that I knew no one who could wear such an overly sized item, but apparently
that is how you wear the gear.
I did go to the
kids department and got her a G Unit tee shirt and it fits her perfectly
but that was the wrong thing to do as I was supposed to get the tee
shirt in the size of a tent!
How I laughed when
I saw my white tall middle class child dressed in big baggy rapper clothes…she
looks so funny in them.
Husband and I had our ‘Welcome home’ argument that always
happens when I go away for ages. I had to admit three things to stop
the fight escalating.
1- I am selfish and don’t understand other
peoples needs.
2- I need to accept the world does not revolve
around me.
3- Husband does everything to make my life easier
and I don’t appreciate it.
So I agreed to all of the above and the world went smoother. Underneath
it all I am seething but being married means that you have to compromise
your life to allow other people to function around you or apparently
you are Hitler.
So I am home and happy (well sort of).
Tuesday the 5th
of June 2007
08:41:54 PM
Never scared me…
Seems the day I
flew out of JFK, the New York police and FBI stopped a plot to blow
it up!
They have arrested
four men who are allegedly the terrorists who had organised to explode
the fuel pipes that feed that airport.
I don’t know
if the day I was flying out was that day they were getting ready to
go to town on their explosive attack but I do know I no longer care
or worry or fear terrorism.
When in London on any public transport I go sit right beside any Muslim
looking man carrying a backpack. I figure if you welcome death it evades
you and I never intend to be scared.
When I was a kid people would tell me not to go near a dog because it
was biter and I
would always make a point of rubbing its head and making friends with
it. I welcomed the rage of the animal, as I was sure if it smelt fear
it would bite but if it recognised my lack of terror it would be OK.
This neither makes me brave nor mad, it’s just a theory that I
lived with and I have survived loads of shit in my life.
A few years ago
a building near my home exploded, people died and were dying in that
building and I ran towards it with a camera taking pictures of the devastation.
Those pics made the front page of the Glasgow Evening Times.
People questioned
my motives at the time but I reckoned that a documentation of the unfolding
event needed to be recorded. I have no idea why I carried on taking
pictures as people were running around injured, but it felt ok at the
time and as I have no real first aid experience I wouldn’t have
tried to administer it.
So taking pictures was the only thing I could do.
Carrying on regardless in the middle of a scary situation is what I
prefer to do.
My theory has seen
me through the scariest of times and I am sticking with it. I don’t
mean I actively seek danger but, if presented with a dangerous situation,
I would rather fly in the face of it.
The only things that really scare me are wasps and flying beasties.
Show me wasps or bugs and I will scream like a girl and run like the
fucking wind.
Show me a man with a knife and I will challenge him to an arm wrestle.
Friday the 8th of
June 2007
07:50:45 PM
Am Sunburnt and Nippy…
I went to Balmaha
beach at Loch Lomond. It’s my favourite spot in Scotland. It’s
a stony beach beside a lovely Loch and usually so quiet and peaceful.
This time there
were a few screaming kids that truly deserved a fork in their nasty
wee foreheads…noisy fuckers.
Husband and I brought along one of those throw away barbeques, you know
the ones where you light a metal tray and throw on sausages?
Now I loved the
idea of a barbeque but in actual fact everything just tasted burnt and
odd. Even the roll I ate it off tasted horrible, give me sandwiches
any day.
Bloody barbeques!
Wish I could have thrown those noisy kids onto the hot coals.
I made sure husband had enough sun block as the temperature soared,
I forgot to put any on myself and today I am red and striped, I look
like a barber’s pole.
My neckline is rosy red and around my eyes are big white circles where
my glasses sat and my cheeks look like a Halloween cake, with big bulgy
red circles.
I am sore and grumpy.
At least I have lost weight, not sure if this is my diet working or
I have bowel cancer, as I had the skits for weeks off and on now. I
am living on tablets that stop me having the runs. This is not good
and I need to get a doc's appointment. It may be stress, I am not sure.
Am off to watch TV and take Imodium…
Saturday the 9th
of June 2007
06:34:11 PM
Remembering the Ragman…
Back in the 1960s
in inner city Glasgow we used to have a man who came round the streets
with a big horse and cart. He would blow on an old brass horn and all
the kids would come running out of their houses and head straight for
the Ragman.
His big horse was old and smelly with more flies in its eyes than an
African baby but we thought it was awesome as we never got to see a
real live horse.
Its matted coat
stank yet we would all clamber round to pet it and the big bastard of
a horse hated kids and would try to kick us.
The Ragman would take clothes from us and give us in return one of three
things.
1. A stretchy elasticised bracelet made from multi coloured panels that
usually broke as soon as you stretched it.
2. A bat with an
elastic string and ball that always banged you in the eye
3. A blue plastic
whistle that startled the horse as soon as you blew it
To us kids though he was a magical man with a horse and we aimed to
give him as many clothes as we could find.
We were really poor,
so spare clothes were thin on the ground and the Ragman knew the kids
were giving away stuff that really wasn’t supposed to be handed
over. He would quickly swipe it from you, stuff it into his bag on the
cart and let you choose your gift and a quick pet at the horse.
There was a woman up the next close to us who knitted handmade jumpers
and cardigans for the community and I really hated the stuff my mammy
got off her.
Once she knitted me a muddy brown cardigan with big black wooden buttons.
The reason I despised this item was it was really scratchy and very
tight, in fact so tight it actually ‘squeaked’ when you raised
your arms, I think it was knitted with twine!
The squeaky cardigan made me so uncomfortable I used to throw it off
as soon as I got out the house and run around the street in my wee cotton
underwear vest. Even if it was cold, the cardigan had to go.
Once when the Ragman
came I saw my ultimate opportunity to get rid of the offending squeaky
top and ripped it off and swapped it for a stretchy bracelet.
My mammy spotted this exchange and came bolting down the stairs and
made the Ragman hand it back as she threw the stretchy bracelet back
in his face.
I had to wear that bloody annoying cardigan till I finally grew out
of it.
I wonder where all the Ragmen went?
Tuesday the 12th
of June 2007
04:13:38 PM
My Head is going to Explode…
I had a horrible
migraine, well it’s either that or a brain tumour is slowly building
up for a blow out in my head. It was like a giant dwarf inside my head
banging away with a sledge hammer.
I had to take the
special tablet that the doc gave me ages ago. I am not to take it if
it’s just a wee headache; it has to be a stonker before I swallow
the BIG pill.
The tablet is kept
in a special box in the medical cupboard at my home.
The Ceremony of taking the pill was like George Bush had decided to
start a nuclear war and needed the special code that opened the box
that let him press the big RED button!
Husband carried
the pill through to me and I swallowed it. I waited with anticipation
on the impending heart attack, convulsions and swollen tongue that are
detailed in the list of side effects. Nothing happened.
I simply fell asleep and woke up with a much smaller gnome in my head
that cracked my temple with a tiny toffee hammer.
Much better.
So life goes on.
Got my Glastonbury Tickets through. I am performing at the Cabaret Tent
next week and am still without transport. I am sure I will get there!
I walked to the post office yesterday to post my book to a mate. Outside
the post office were two guys in a van who I recognised as the gardeners
that work round our estate. (No I don’t own an estate, I live on
one!)
“Hey, you are
Janey Godey!” one guy called out to me. My hair was a mess, I was
pale due to the brain tumour I am growing and I wasn’t quite sure
I was wearing a bra. In fact I was still in my pyjama trousers. I grimaced
at the thought of meeting anyone when I look like Scary Mary the Mad
Cat Lady.
“Yes, I am,” I smiled through gritted teeth and a dry, acrid
mouth.
“Listen to this!”
He waved me over
to his van.
Then I heard my big, annoying voice belt out of his CD system.
“We have you on CD!” he shouted over me swearing on stage.
I was aghast. I haven’t distributed a CD. Where the fuck did he
get that from?
“My pal taped you onstage at Edinburgh and we listen to you all
the time,” he smiled.
“That’s a bootleg CD of me. I haven’t sold or made a
CD, ” I answered.
“Shh, this bit is funny - Wait to you hear her say this,”
he told me.
“Mate, I fucking know what she is going to say because it’s
ME!” I shouted back.
They asked me for an autograph and I walked off hearing my own voice
laughing in the background. I have been bootlegged.
I may have another migraine.
Thursday the 14th
of June 2007
02:17:51 AM
Sleeping and Eating…
I am sleeping too
much again. It all started with the bad headache but ended up with an
askew sleep pattern. I need to get back on track with my productive
life. I have been working…don’t get me wrong, I am halfway
through my article for next week's Scotsman and am coming up with marketing
ideas for Edinburgh Fringe. I am just woozy and feeling vulnerable.
Husband bought a big joint of beef the other day, coked it to perfection
and we have all been slicing bits off the juicy meat and slowly working
our way through it.
Honestly I had meat
sweats I ate so much yesterday.
The dreams have been going crazy, regular readers of my blog will know
of the scary horrid nightmares I have been suffering from for many years
now. It’s truly awful and by fuck it’s scary as anything ever
seen on a horror movie.
In the middle of particular scary slasher dream my phone woke me up
and I think I may have agreed to a comedy gig somewhere at sometime
for a price I am not sure I know of….note to Janey don’t answer
phone half asleep and agree to stuff.
I need to try and think of who I actually spoke to and check the date!
Husband is annoying me with being nice; I hate it when he does this.
This nice supportive helpful man worries me somewhat. We always trade
in underhand double entendres, a language based on nasty evil pain and
years of knowing each others weak spots…some people call it bad
behaviour… we call it affection.
Lately he is nice and I lie awake and wonder why. I am being cruel here;
he isn’t actually the bastard he used to be.
After 27 years of marriage to an utter cunt, he is lovely now but sometimes
I wonder why. Then I realise he is a better man, but sometimes I goad
him into a fight to see if he will be a cunt again and he never is.
He stops the fight and questions my motives for anger and tells me to
explain what I am feeling and I want to stab him in the eye with a blunt
spoon…I may miss the crazy man I used to be married to.
Then I recognise it's actually me who is nuts and have a big reasonable
man trying to work out why I am being a cunt and then I remind him of
the bastard he used to be to try to win that argument…it’s
a long story, but I always win and that’s all that matters, eh?
So maybe I need to be nice to him.
I will consider it…or maybe I could blame my behaviour on my headache,
coz surely migraines make you mental?
Saturday the 16th
of June 2007
06:41:04 AM
A Tattoo…
I saw the weirdest
ever tattoo on a fat girl's tummy last week. At first I thought it was
‘go faster’ type stripes she had inked into her tummy either
side of her bellybutton pointing up the way.
I couldn’t imagine anyone having ‘go faster’ stripes
on her belly, how fast does she want someone to go when they are on
top of her.
Now these stripes
were jagged-looking big black electric lighting stripes that she had
on her tummy and I realised that she actually had those Nazi Lighting
marks.
I finally identified them when I saw the tattoos on a white supremist
in the film American History X.
She was displaying them in the hot sunshine last week; I was stunned
when I saw her big fat belly wobble in a bra top and really never understood
what the tattoos were.
Now I am horrified that some young girl has big Nazi tattoos on her
tummy in Glasgow!
Who the fuck does that? She is living in one of the most ethnic parts
of Glasgow - here in the West End. We have a Mosque across the road
and a big Jewish community nearby.
The girl was dragging a hot screamy toddler along with her. She looked
fat, old and tired but was just a teenager.
Maybe she didn’t know what they were when she got them? I don’t
know!
I have never had a tattoo and never will. I don’t really find them
interesting or attractive. I don’t even have my ears pierced.
Neither does Ashley. I don’t think I need anymore holes in my body. I find the thought of holes in my ears sickening. I can’t even watch people insert earrings into that hole…Yuk…
Sunday the 17th
of June 2007
09:16:16 PM
The story of my jukebox…
I cannot believe
that Daryl Hall is 61 years old; I just found this out when I uploaded
his amazing solo album from 1993 ‘Soul Alone’. I found a big
box of CDs in my wardrobe from when I used to own a bar in my almost
past life. You should hear ‘Philly Mood’. It's astounding.
The best thing about owning that bar from 1980 till 1994 was that I
was in charge of the jukebox and I got to choose what went in and what
came out. It seems fair asI had to spend the best years of my life in
that fucking old pub, that I chose the theme tune to my own life.
I loved Hall and Oates from their early stuff right through till today.
I am still shocked that Daryl is 61 years old and I still fancy him!
How odd is that?
Thinking about the old pub in the Calton near Glasgow Green, I recall
the first song I heard in it. It was ‘Strawberry Letter #21’
by the Brothers Johnson. The year was 1979 and I was fascinated by the
old vinyl-playing jukebox. The last song I heard in it was ‘Hotel
California’ by the Eagles in 1994.
Years later, maybe mid 80s, I remember the first CD jukeboxes coming
into fashion and the first CD we got was ‘Captain of Heart’
by Double. Back then it could only hold six CDs at one time and then
technology progressed and we ended up with a small box on the wall and
a big box downstairs in the cellar that held 500 CDs in all.
We rented the system but owned all the CDs and I loved picking all the
favourites. Daryl Hall’s 'Soul Alone' was one of my favourites;
it never really took off but I loved it.
I also put in people
like Todd Rundgren and obscure numbers from the likes of Dean Friedman.
I loved Dean Friedman; his late 1970s quirky music was such a love of
mine, though the majority of my rough mad drunk East End Glaswegians
hated it! I was a huge fan and didn’t care a fucking hoot what
they thought.
Years later at the Edinburgh Fringe 2004, Dean Friedman was doing a
show at Edinburgh also and he brought along his young family to see
my show.
I was horrified as some of the material included talking about child
abuse and murder and I didn’t want to scare my long-loved idol’s
kids. He shrugged, laughed hugged me and insisted they sat with him.
All the way through the show I was thinking in the back of my head “I
can’t do the punchline about making my daughter do porn to pay
back for her school fees as Dean Friedman’s kids are watching me”.
It was awful but he laughed at everything I said and before I closed
the show I told the audience that he was there in the room.
I couldn’t believe that this crazy wee curly-haired man whose music
I had adored and whose songs I had grown up listening to was sitting
watching me do comedy…it was too surreal…He even sang 'Do
you still love me? Yes I still love you, we can thank our lucky stars'
just for me!
How odd is my life? Maybe my jukebox is coming to life and Daryl Hall
will turn up this year? Here’s hoping…mmmm…
Wednesday the 20th
of June 2007
11:46:00 PM
London and Ashley…
My daughter Ashley
and I got up early in Glasgow to fly out to London today. We are packed
and ready to head off to Glastonbury. First we must stop off in London
as I get my lift from London to the festival site and Ashley has packed
a huge case of clothes which I don’t think she will be able to
wear as finally the weather here in UK looks like rain.
We have a golden spring which reached temperatures of 90 degrees on
some days, now when I need the weather to hold…it looks like rain
in Glastonbury for the whole weekend. Wonderful.
I am so tired because as soon as we landed we got driven straight to
BBC Broadcasting House for me to record a short piece about the festival
and then a car drove us to our swish and truly awesome flat in Westminster.
I think the last
person to live here was Tom Cruise…I am joking of course but you
should see this place…WOW…right next door to Big Ben and the
Houses of Parliament…I am so lucky.
Ashley and I headed down to the Groucho Club and had dinner and then
we literally slumped into seats and needed our beds.
We have a big day tomorrow, and I am not looking forward to putting
up that huge tent which will be my home for the next four days…no
sireee. From the lap of luxury to a big fucking muddy field…this
is my life!
Tuesday the 26th
of June 2007
03:34:37 PM
Glastonbury...
Well I survived.
I am sorry I have not written a blog in days but there was no internet
connection whatsoever. Ashley my daughter and I pitched the tent (in
the rain) and it was allocated beside the campfire (which never stayed
alight because of the rain).
Within hours the
whole campsite turned to MUD - by that I mean mud and sludge that was
so thick it sucked the wellies off your legs... (In the rain).
I was the first actual stand up to perform in the huge cabaret tent.
It took me ages to walk the short distance to the tent due to the huge
volume of…did I mention the mud?
Anyway, the gig
had all the makings of a nightmare, as I was first on and the room hadn’t
had comedy yet as such. But then, the rain came harder and the whole
tent filled up!
I walked on stage
and had the best half hour gig of my life! It was awesome, I even got
to tell a huge long story and in the middle of my set the magnificent
crowd was quiet and listening and then from the deluge of wet people
all I could hear was a wee “Mwaaa” a baby cried!
The place fell about laughing as I explained that it was the youngest
heckle of my life, so we all went quiet again and listened to see if
the baby would cry again and it didn’t but we cheered anyway.
Living in the tent was fine, but the relentless rain made everyone so
bloody exhausted and having to dredge through miles of knee high mud
was making me so upset I cried.
I suppose having
a period in the middle of that quagmire wasn’t helping at all.
Don’t even think about the toilets!
But I do love Glastonbury, though I silently prayed for escape after
about two days.
Ashley had a great time, got to see and hear wonderful music and made
fab friends as always. She manages to connect to people and have lasting
friendships everywhere she goes.
I on the other hand screamed so loud when a big black beetle ran through
my tent everyone laughed as I shouted “Please help me! - A big
beetle is hiding under my jumbo pack of sanitary towels!” Ashley
was mortified and kicked me.
So I am safely out of the camp and sitting in London waiting to fly
home with a huge bag of smokey, smelling clothes and hair that will
never really be clean and to top to all off I think that beetle is in
my case. I saw something scuttle amongst my underwear bag as I reached
for clean knickers today and I immediately decided these knickers are
clean enough…
Did I mention the rain? Oh yes - it rained for eight days solid.
Thursday the 28th of June
2007
03:08:22 AM
Warm and Home…
There can be nothing better
than your first decent shower in a warm bathroom after Glastonbury.
Ashley and I had our first shower in London to be precise. We were staying
in a friend of mine's house; he is gay and an architect and you should
have seen his shower room!
WOW…a huge wet room
with pulsating (don’t you just love that word?) shower heads and
giant fluffy towels, with heated floors and all the shower products
you will ever need in your gay life!
I think I actually shed a
skin when I got clean. I had scrubbed and exfoliated and then slathered
myself in sweet smelling body lotion…it was heaven.
The downside of the wonderful
stay in his lovely house was that he had two mental cats (who would
have thought?).
One cat was a huge blue/grey
coloured man cat with orange eyes and it jumped about like a bulldog
and the other was a tortoiseshell female cat that sat quiet and loved
to be stroked.
The big man cat followed
me about and kept rubbing his big sturdy back against me and when I
went to bed, he promptly leapt onto the bed and bit my feet through
the duvet.
To be honest I was tired I didn’t even feel it.
So we are home in Glasgow and my entire suitcase contents need washed
as everything smelled smokey due to the camp fire being near our tent.
Husband is so happy to have us home, yet never had any decent food in
the fridge and Ashley threw a big huffy tantrum and he had to go get
loads of nice food for her today.
I never really explained in my last blog entry how horrible I felt in
Glastonbury as the sheer amount of rain and mud made me feel so dirty,
wet and miserable. It was awful and so fucking soul destroying beyond
belief. Though I really love the festival, I whinged and when I got
out and realised that people had actually died in the floods - I shut
my moaning mouth and decided to stop being so whiney.
If I go back next year I will most definitely hire a camper van or caravan
type vehicle to live in, as that will be warm and safe and easy to deal
with. I still have flashbacks of standing up in that tent and stepping
into cold rain and trying to stop the flood of water spreading into
my dry clothes.
Life is good here in Glasgow and I have learned one thing, homeless
people deal with stuff I can never even begin to imagine and I had a
warm expensive tent to live in. They sleep on the streets and deal with
our weather day in and out without any shelter and I now have the utmost
respect for their resilience.
I am selfish and very very grateful.
Saturday the 30th
of June 2007
11:47:53 AM
Leeds and flying Tellys
I am going home
tomorrow and getting everything ready for my posters and flyers for
my two shows at Edinburgh this year. I am doing a chat show at 5pm at
Green Room and a one woman comedy show at Pleasance at 7pm - tickets
are available online and selling well already! To book online for my
one woman comedy show go to Booking Link
Hopefully I will see all my blog mates in Edinburgh and we can
have a blog party!
Meanwhile I am in Leeds for three days doing comedy at Jongleurs. I
do love this city; it has a great canal walk and wonderful old buildings
to look round.
Instead of staying
at the appointed hotel, we opted to live in the K Space apartments and
they are awesome. I have a wonderful two bedroom flat with en suite
bathrooms and amazing spacious living room with a huge balcony.
I love staying at
K Space as you get the feel of a being at home as opposed to living
in a one room hotel accommodation which always ends up a fight with
husband and I.
He never sleeps good at night and ends up pacing the room if we are
stuck together in a hotel or puts the television on really loud and
that means I can't sleep but I can fucking fight…so having an apartment
saves the marriage.
The apartments are in a tall block and last night around 2am some people
in the apartment block opposite started chucking their furniture out
of their window.
Husband and I stood on our balcony and watched a sofa, a TV and various
pieces of household items being thrown from the balcony on the 6th floor
onto the parapet beneath, it was really rock and roll but I assume it
may have been some crazy people who had a party and decided furniture
throwing is an Olympic sport.
That’s Leeds for you!
See you all in Edinburgh hopefully.