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08/09/2008 Europe/London +0100 BST |
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 Name: Janey Godley Country: United kingdom City: Glasgow/London Photo Album
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I sometimes get so bloody confused as to where I am supposed to be from one day to the next. Life is busy just now and travel plans are being changed daily. I am off to London tomorrow for a few days and then back up and down for the rest of February.
To make matters worse I am trying to stick to a diet, now that’s the worst thing when I am travelling as I tend to eat when am bored and sitting around in airports.
Last week in Prague I can’t believe how much food they offered that I just couldn’t eat; everything was so stodgy and deep fried, that these people could actually be Glaswegian!
So I turned into a small pit pony and lived on apples and carrots the whole trip.
I am so determined to lose my fat belly, I saw myself naked in a mirror from behind back in Cardiff and I was horrified as to how I looked. When did I become the fat lardy lady? I cannot bear to see myself naked for at least a year; the shock was too bad from the last attempt.
I have rolls of fat that ripple down my bum and the backs of my legs! I look like one of those Seaside postcards from the 1930s, it’s awful to accept.
So here we go again with the diet. You know you have reached an unacceptable size when you are NOW the weight you were when you were nine months pregnant with your baby. That’s wrong!
So February is full of travel and diets. I am going to the BAFTA awards in London soon and my guest this year is the Scottish Airport hero John Smeaton, he was the guy who intervened when a terror attack hit Glasgow Airport last year.
He was also a guest on my chat show at the Fringe last year and he is an all round lovely bloke.
I need to look nice and try not to resemble a fat rolly-polly woman on the red carpet.
March 6th is my Glasgow Comedy Festival show at The Garage in Glasgow at 8pm and I am doing a wee slot at the Terence Higgins Charity show on Sunday March 9th at Oran Mor on Glasgow’s Byres Road.
Both shows still have some tickets available; click on my website on how to buy if you are up for it and let me know if you are coming so I can say a special hi to my blog friends on the night?
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  My daughter Ashley reminded me of the time three years ago when she worked for a temping company. She really hated the job especially when she realised she was assigned to a senior citizen home. Not that she hates old people, but she really preferred office work, and nothing that would involve cleaning up after people.
So Ashley decided to do something really politically incorrect and morally disgusting- she pretended that she had learning difficulties and suffered from a really low IQ, she also affected a limp. She let this be known when she arrived at the place. She explained she could do menial tasks and was great at taking orders so she was given a job washing the dishes in the vast kitchen.
She didn’t want to deal hands on with the elderly people as basically she doesn’t like touching people she doesn’t know or handling their dirty laundry.
Ashley popped in her IPod earphones and happily carried on cleaning cutlery in the big dish-washing machine. What she discovered was how patronising people are to folk who have learning problems.
“It’s just as well you are pretty Ashley because you there is nothing going on in your wee head and will get nowhere in life” one woman would often say as she chatted to my over educated daughter.
Ashley would smile and the woman would pinch her cheek and pat her head.
She also told me that people openly speak about your disability in your company, for example one older nurse said to the gathered staff when Ashley was eating lunch “You know years ago people like Ashley were put in a special home and left to rot, nowadays they let them into society, but she is good at washing dishes and can sing really good, have you heard her singing away when she has her wee music box in her ears?”
“Yes, she can sing and she is really good at working the dishwasher as well, it’s a real shame she is backwards because she will never get a man”
Ashley would sit there horrified that people could say that in front of anyone!
Ashley would go round the old people’s home giving out cups of tea and singing away to the elderly folks, they all loved her. Though one old woman sussed there was more to her, and said to her one afternoon “You are smart, very smart and you don’t really have a limp, nor do you have learning difficulties, do you?”
“I don’t know what you mean” Ashley said in her happy smiling way.
“I watched you texting on your phone, your thumbs moved like lightening and you were reading big heavy book out on the lawn near the hairdressing room last week”
Ashley gulped and said “Yes, you are right I can’t lie, I am only pretending, I really don’t like working here and my mum said I had to get a seasonal job, but I really have issues with touching people and their stuff and the other women are so annoying its great that I don’t have to chat to them, I am sorry if I have offended you and I will go tell the matron now, I don’t mind getting the sack actually”
The old woman laughed loudly and replied “No, I won’t tell, its ok, you really cheer us up singing to us and your happy nature is wonderful, I don’t mind”
Ashley felt terribly ashamed and sang all day with people in the lounge.
Ashley worked in the old folk’s home for another five weeks until her contract ended and the women bought her a big colouring book and glittery pens, which they presented to her in front of the residents. Ashley actually loves colouring in and took the gift gladly! Though there was one old woman sitting there laughing her pants off as Ashley thanked them all and sang The Great Pretender and left with her lovely gift.
She told me he gained such respect for people who do have learning difficulties and will never under estimate or patronise them ever in her life time and she had learned an amazing lesson, even though it was borne of deceit.
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Well, I am a frequent flyer but that flight back from Prague was horrific; I genuinely thought it was going to fall out of the sky near Glasgow.
There have been really horrendous winds in Glasgow and as the flight approached the landing, the plane felt like King Kong had a hold of it and was shaking the bloody thing furiously. I almost shit myself.
Just as we started the descent the pilot told us that the wind was too strong and he had to climb up again to avoid the wind and we may have to be diverted to Edinburgh!
Just then husband leaned over and said “You should see the air hostess she is vomiting into a bag”
“Why the fuck did you tell me that, now I am really scared?” I shouted over the noise of the plane being rattled in the wind.
“Why? She might have eaten something dodgy in Prague” he argued back.
“Or…she might be thinking we are going to crash” I screamed “So shut up”
“She might be pregnant” he shouted loudly enough for the poor woman to stop vomiting and scowl at him. I could have clubbed him to death with my shoe…fucking nutter that he is.
He then sat there as the plane was tossed about in the sky and gave me at least seven good reasons why the woman was throwing up and I was trying to get my IPod into my ear, I know you are not supposed to listen to any electronic devices as the plane lands, but I didn’t want the last words I ever hear to be him annoying me, I would rather have listened to Prefab Sprout sing.
“You aren’t supposed to have that in as we land, it could interfere with the landing” he hissed.
“Fuck right off, who is going to stop me, the pregnant, food poisoned scared air hostess?” I shouted.
I didn’t put the IPod on as I knew it was wrong but the deafening effect the ear plugs gave me helped.
Finally the plane did land after we were seriously buffeted by strong winds and the plane had see-sawed for a few minutes.
The good news is I really enjoyed Prague, the place is awesome and I cannot praise enough the people at Prague City Apartments.
We stayed at the Karolina residence and it was just beautiful, I don’t often endorse companies on my blog, but these people were awesome and the flat was huge!
They even let me check out at 9pm at night as my flight was a late departure.
Go check them out if you are ever going to Prague, who needs a hotel when a one bedroom spacious flat is so cheap and so well appointed?
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Well I arrived for my well deserved break; husband and I are staying in the MOST amazing apartment’s right in the city. I swear to God, its luxury, I have never seen this calibre of serviced flat outside London! The huge ornate gated entrance leads up to wonderful high ceilinged flat that is so modern and has a balcony!
Prague is just beautiful, the weather is cold but clear and we have been walking everywhere. At this time of year there are no stag nights or crazy crowds.
I have been trying to stay on my fat free diet, which is proving really fucked in Prague, its fatty meat or nothing, I am living on apples.
The downside of today is I just heard that Heath Ledger the famous US actor has died. I really liked his work and even met him once at the BAFTA awards in London; he was such a star to people who just came up and spoke to him. Ever so approachable.
I hear it’s a drug death, whether that’s true or not, I feel for his family.
I will be in Prague till Saturday, and it seems my laptop is playing up, so I will not be able to keep up the blog till I get home on Saturday.
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I woke up old in Cardiff, I am 47 today and I have waited so long for this birthday, as I have finally reached the age my mammy died at, but I suppose I will have a big celebration at my 48th birthday next year as that’s when I will have outlived her!
And I must outlive her!
The weekend in Wales was lovely though the wind howled and it made me come to the conclusion that Wales is the only country called after the noise it makes….whhooooooooooooowhhooooooo… the wind battered off my fancy five star hotel glass walls.
I have THREE glass walls in my bedroom and they wobbled all night long as the wind shook them.
The shows were great and all the staff at Cardiff Jongleurs are always so nice and helpful, the Welsh audience were so welcoming.
So here I am sitting in Cardiff Airport, and people around me actually want my table, “Can you move to let us all sit down together?” the skinny tall blonde woman asked.
I lift my eyes of this keyboard and see about twenty people including kids crowding me, I look behind me and see LOADS of free fucking tables and wonder why they need MY seat?
“There is a whole area of seating over there” I pointed “I have my laptop out and plugged into this socket and bags spread around me can you possibly all move to one the 70 empty tables behind me?”
They all looked at me like I had bitten a child in the face.
“Well, these are the seats we always sit on” an old man snapped at me.
“No you don’t, you don’t always sit here, coz if you did, I wouldn’t be on your seat, look here’s the deal, its my birthday today and you are annoying me- go away” I hissed and yet again pointed to a swathe of empty tables and seats at my back.
This confused him and his party of friends. They moved on and let me get back to writing this sentence. Honestly I fucking attract nutters in their hordes.
So that’s been my day.
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Thursday, March at 8:00 PM
The Garage
TICKETS £9.50/£7.50
BOOKINGS 0870 013 5464
To buy ticket
5 Star Sell Out Show 2007
‘Hilarious, shocking, Unsettling’ Stewart Lee Scotswoman of the Year finalist and bestselling author.
‘The Godmother of Scottish comedy’ Scotsman
‘Sensation…Exceptionally funny’ Herald
www.janeygodley.co.uk
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I flew to Cardiff yesterday at tea time and the wind nearly whipped me off my wee fat ankles. The flight was fine, but on arrival at the airport I exited and headed for the taxi office and the strong wind picked up my thick hair that in turn gave my face whiplash.
I checked into my lovely 5 star fancy hotel that I am staying in (it’s my birthday on Sunday and I deserved a treat) and the smarmy nice people in top hats looked at me like I was Little Nell on a begging trip.
There is no way you can look good with snot dripping out of your nose and mascara running down your cheeks from the wind that got me yet again from the short walk from taxi to swishy door entry.
I had decided to book myself in for a facial but when I went down to the wonderfully expensive beauty therapy spa, the girl who offered me my facial looked very young.
“Are you here for business?” she asked when we discussed times and prices.
“Yes, I am performing at Jongleurs comedy club” I told her.
“I don’t know where that is as I am too young to go to clubs, I am seventeen” she smiled.
“And I am not letting you near my skin” I thought to myself, how much training in beauty therapy does a 17 year old have? Especially at these prices. So I ditched the skin regime idea and silently wondered where a girl could get chocolate at this time of the night in the isolated hotel in Cardiff’s docks.
I peered out of the window and saw debris been whirled around at the bay and decided against going out. I stepped into the restaurant feeling hungry and ready for dinner, but the menu looked very expensive, now I am a regular posh nosh diner, but I only wanted a snack. I did not want to pay £50 for two pan seared prawns arranged on top of each other, sitting neatly on one single potato slice with a truffle shaving artfully placed in the centre of a huge white plate.
They did have a bar snack option and I munched down a big sandwich and that set me fine for the night.
So today I have to venture out into Cardiff city centre to get some shopping done and get ready for my Cardiff Jongleurs gig tonight. I may get blown away…it looks scary out there…talk later.
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Every woman has a best friend. One who has seen her through dodgy perms, fake tan dilemmas and pregnancy scares? A good mate has seen you through your very worst days and been witness to your finest moments.
My mate Monica is that person. She lives in London, has a really demanding job, she owns her own PR Company. Her life is a constant whirl of TV studios, book launches and nibbling niceties in upmarket eateries.
Monica is PR to some of the most famous and celebrated chefs and restaurants here in the UK and abroad.
We met up in London for a drink recently and invited some friends to join us.
“Remember the time you peed yourself outside The Groucho club?” she laughed and everyone at our small gathering stared at me in horror. Monica has a way of picking out the highlights of any anecdote, that’s why she is good at her job, except this time, she wasn’t doing my image any favours.
“Tell the whole story properly, it makes sense if you explain it better” I shouted as the people in the room stayed silent and continued to stare at me. I will be forever known as the weak bladder woman in their eyes.
Ten years ago when she was working as a lawyer’s assistant in London and I was an open spot who crashed on her couch doing the comedy circuit, we had the best of times. Running from comedy gig to late night bars, were amongst some of the best days in our lasting friendship.
Both of us were way too old to be still ‘working out what we want to do’. I was in my mid thirties, married with a child and had decided to become a stand up comic, rather late in the day to be honest and she was in her early thirties and had been through a succession of jobs and ill fitting boyfriends.
That particular night, I had been heading to a gig in Soho; my bladder was full and grew to the size of a small scatter cushion, I thought that if I can hold in a baby I was sure I could hold in a wee.
Monica and I started walking along Dean Street, when for some bizarre reason we both spotted a tiny hobbling baby mouse running past our legs at the exact same time. We screamed and screamed much in the same way we would if the devil himself had decided to chase our skirt tails. It was a tiny wee creature, but we got hysterical. Flapping hands and squealing like banshees.
People stared, yet we screamed more.
Then we stopped the screeching and started laughing, at that point Monica was throwing her head back howling with raucous laughter and then she suddenly stopped, stared at me with huge bulging eyes and vomited up a great splash of yellow sick all over the pavement.
It was the sudden change from laughter to puke that made me fall about laughing, I could not contain myself, my ribs hurt, and I peed myself. I am not proud of it, but I did. The piss soaked my jeans and ran into my shoes.
We then headed onto my comedy gig, we had no time to stop and get cleaned up. There was me with a damp urine soaked crotch and Monica with yellow sick all tangled up in her long red curly hair.
The bits of vomit hung onto the tendrils like ugly Christmas tree ornaments. We stank badly, but still kept laughing, people were looking at us both. We must have looked a sight. That never stopped us from giggling.
I did the gig, told the story of what had just happened, showed the audience my dark stained jeans, pointed out Monica’s vomit splattered hair and left the stage to a resounding applause.
Who needs material when you can actually say in all honestly “Something happened on the way to the gig”
Friends can come through the toughest of times, especially if one of them have pissed themselves in public and the other can recall the story in front of strangers.
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I just thought I would mention that The Scotsman newspaper that I write a weekly column for has now allowed people to view the articles without paying a subscription.
So if you want to read my latest columns free of charge…please check it out.
On another note, I would like to take the time to sincerely thank everyone for their comments and support. Am sorry I don’t always get time to write back, but I do get to read them…so heartfelt thanks everyone out there in blog world! Much respect Janey Godley.
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Husband decided that besides doing my yearly tax shit he would completely empty the contents of every single piece of paper work that I own and dump it the middle of the living room and sort it out. Window cleaning and washing down the huge Welsh Dresser and all its contents was included in this activity.
As you can imagine I was over the moon with suicidal feelings!
I do things bit by bit and slowly- he attacks chores the same way George Bush went into Iraq. The living room resembled downtown Baghdad, after crack addicted violent soldiers had been on a rampage
There was no piece of floor untouched by the mess and no where to actually step when I woke up. The sound of that fucking shredder had been going all morning, he shreds everything. I think he has just shredded my entire life. He then shredded all his own stuff and that included paper work going back to when we owned a bar together.
My husband would have been a valuable asset to President Nixon if only he had been old enough and American enough to be involved in US politics. This man leaves no trace of his existence; I swear if he dies I will be hard pushed to prove he was born!
“Go through all of those old diaries and see if there is any valuable info you need to keep” he shouted orders.
I looked at the shredder and wondered if it could take his big fat head.
So there I was washing windows, cleaning small ornamental cups and knick knacks and trying to work out if this is actually grounds for divorce. I hate this stuff.
There is an upside, he discovered amongst the many bank statements that people owe me cash…whoopee... now that’s a by product that I love.
Sometimes paper work and countless invoices get on top of you and you can get buried amongst it all and lose track.
That’s the great thing with emails; you can just delete them and keep the ones you need. Real paper work is fucking shit and I hate it.
Ashley was clever enough to fake sleep and hide in her room, which meanwhile does look like it had been bombed, fuck knows how she finds stuff in there…it scares even me. Her filing system is akin to just throwing her paper work high in the air and wherever it lands- is where it should be.
I am sure when she gets her own place she will be found starving and dying beneath DVD’s, letters, University work and underwear.
Husband is now in full Aspergic mode and as I write this he is continually holding up tiny pieces of paper and asking me to ‘Kill or Keep’…I am off to get drunk…and trust me…I don’t even drink. I may not be here in two days time, I am going to strap a canoe onto my back and fake my own death.
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