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07/21/2008 Europe/London +0100 BST |
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 Name: Janey Godley Country: United kingdom City: Glasgow/London Photo Album
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Unfaithful marriages are what keep gossip columns alive; it needs stupid people to read about it and feeds like barracuda’s on every detail of some unfortunate couple’s life to survive.
The most recent and enduring story is of footballer Ashley Cole and Cheryl Tweedy of Girls Aloud fame. This yarn is still being hocked out round the glossy mags.
You can’t pick up a magazine without seeing the angry Mrs. Cole is in a basque with the by-line “Would you cheat on this woman?”
It’s an old story; stupid man cheats on gorgeous sexy wife. Why would he do that? Have you seen the woman he had a dalliance with? Is the wife not fragrant? Is she not beautiful? Why would he stray when he has this hottie at home?
When did straying in a marriage have anything to do with looks?
Unless you are married to the Hunch Back of Notre Dame and have a quick one night stand with Brad Pitt does that theory come into play.
Society dictates that if you have a sexy partner, you have no right to go off and sully that relationship by having sex with a plain person. Which means that if some overpaid footballer had a one night stand with the latest Miss World, would that make the unfaithful act ok in his wife’s eyes? ‘I don’t mind you shagging around, as long as she is pretty?’
We all recall the Beckham alleged affair with Rebecca Loos, the pouty Posh One screamed “David wouldn’t touch a fat ugly woman” Which leads us to believe that if Mr Golden Balls screwed Eva Longoria then at least he wasn’t batting below his weight and Victoria could fully understand why he did it! Who makes these rules up?
That theory is all nonsense and the media is naïve to use beauty as a means to be staying faithful. As if sexy women or hot men never get cheated on!
If that were the case then why is Hollywood full of divorced beautiful people?
Most psychologists will tell you unfaithfulness has nothing to do with how sexy the wife or husband is, the whole episode hinges on the persons own self worth and how they feel being in a committed relationship.
The mistress isn’t always a sex bomb that came along and hooked he bedazzled man.
We all recall the hoots of horror when it was revealed that the Prince of Wales had chosen the slightly haggard Camilla Parker Bowles over the poised and perfect Princess Diana, who at the time was apparently the words most beautiful woman. What was Charles thinking?
We all know what he was thinking now, he loved Camilla.
Diana could wear all the pretty frocks she chooses, and her man still wanted the bushy blonde who smoked too much and lived in her wellies.
It gave the ordinary women all over the world a glimmer of hope, Princes can love the not so pretty girls as well, and the ugly sisters among us can win the kings heart. Prince Charles empowered us women more than Diana ever did by choosing Camilla over his glamorous wife, though we never really thanked him for it.
People are unfaithful because they want to, it doesn’t matter how attractive or ugly the wife or secret partner. It happens.
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  Hey all, I will be at The Norwich Playhouse on July 25th doing my comedy show.
If you want tickets or any other info please click here http://www.norwichplayhouse.org.uk/viewshowdetail.php?id=349
I have been to Norwich on boating holidays in the past and I LOVE the place, hope to see some of you there! Janey
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Sorry the blog has been late, I am a lazy person.
I am in London for a few weeks work and it is amazing. I am staying at Westminster in the lush Crown Lawn flats again; I am not used to such luxury! Just lying in bed hearing Big Ben strike is awesome.
The weather here has been so sunny and hot. Yesterday husband and I went walking and I have a burnt neck. We inadvertently walked into a BBC outside broadcast in Battersea Park and my flip flop noises ruined the take, I had to walk back over and apologise to the crew. I was so embarrassed, they laughed and explained it was all fine, but I felt like a dick.
I have been to Corby doing a show and that was rainy and smelled, felt and sounded just like Glasgow. The car journey was hellish as the poor man who owned the car had dampness ad the windscreen was all smeary and vision was difficult. So we spent the whole journey wiping the inside as he drove through the dark rainy roads. Not my ideal journey, but I tried not to panic.
Headed down to the Groucho Club last night with Monica and chatted to some old mates and had a few drinks. It was a cool night out! I realised the best way to work out if you are famous is if the homeless guy outside recognises you and last night as soon as I stepped out for a ciggie he said “Hello Janey, how was New Zealand?” I know this has less to do with me being famous and more to do with me chatting to him months ago before I left London. But it felt good! Then I gave him some cash, it is a form of me paying a fan to recall me now….not a good thing I suspect!
Not much else has been happening, all in all a fine trip so far.
I miss Ashley; she is back in Glasgow doing her thing.
Meanwhile I have been glued to the news about the voting in the USA.
Has Hilary Clinton done a disservice to women in America by failing to beat Obama?
Did she gild her lily too far? Was she a victim of her own pretentious connections?
Some political analysts have commented as much, but with the word anal in your title makes me somehow doubt your job.
Hilary hasn’t taken women any further or taken us back by trying hard to get to the White House, by the way Mr Obama, there is a reason it’s called the White House and it’s got nothing to do with paint on the wall’s, it aint over till the fat men sing!
Women in any political arena going for the top potato title will always be faced with adversity and nit picking. Mrs Clinton was clawing her way through every single state like a well dressed beggar. A cookie seller in nice shoes.
I felt sorry for Hilary, much in the same way I felt pain for poor Obama, because he wasn’t dark enough for the black vote and not white enough for the average Americans. The USA finally got a black man who wouldn’t threaten the whites yet couldn’t quite get the confidence of his core black voters.
The guy really is stuck between a rock and hard face.
The whole situation divided people; they were either racist or sexist, not a good basis for a Presidential candidate.
In my opinion, a one legged blind asthmatic donkey can only improve on Bush.
Let’s see what happens next?
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We go to London this Sunday as I am gigging down south for a few weeks and getting to meet up with my mate Monica. I can’t wait to see her new flat in Battersea.
I really need a campervan for Glastonbury this year, where I am performing at the cabaret tent. I am leaving on June 25th till June 30th possibly leaving from Glasgow or London, does anyone have any ideas?
I need help, please let me know?
On another thought, I am gigging this weekend at Glasgow Jongleurs. I love the club then on Sunday I am off to London to work for a few weeks. I will get to see my best mate Monica and will be able to see her new flat.
Also on Sunday night on BBC Radio Scotland I am the subject of an interview on a programme called ‘Stark Talk’, it was really in depth and I have never been interviewed like that before. I think at one point I almost broke down, Edi Stark knows her stuff!
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My old mate Hugh has a quirky way of looking at life. He is 84 years old and makes me giggle, last week he came to meet me for coffee.
The shops in my area are all upmarket kitchen/flooring/bathroom specialists. There is a new shop just opened and Hugh had a peep in the big windows to see what was on sale. Later when we met up for coffee he gave me his account of the new place.
“Janey, what is that shop selling? The place looks empty; there are a few stones on the floor. It has the hull of an old boat, a grandfather clock and a skinny boy shop assistant with funny hair staring out into the distance”
“Ceramic tiles” I explained in-between gulps of coffee “It’s got really expensive tiles that they import, maybe that’s what the boat reference is”
“What? There were no tiles; there was the hull of a fucking boat, what has that got to do with tiles? There was only that boy has long hair on one side of his face, I think he is selling ‘gay’ and looking out for cottages, I heard about that on TV” He spluttered.
“Hugh, don’t be homophobic, he isn’t gay and you can’t sell gay and you have the cottage thing all mixed up, it’s all subliminal marketing that’s all it is” I couldn’t stop laughing.
“In my day a ceramic tile shop had ceramic tiles in the window so you knew what it sold, all this strange subliminal marketing makes me feel invaded. I looked at the hull of that old boat and it reminded me of Dunkirk, he is luckily I never went into that shop and had a nervous breakdown” Hugh sniggered.
I forgot how older people have a sharp sense of humour, only old Hugh could link a tile shop to Dunkirk and make me snort with laughter. Though he does have a point the exclusive tile shop is a tad too snotty for my liking, and the boy with emotional hair that struts about in skinny jeans looking down on people who walk past and who try to figure out what the boat is all about does need taken down a peg or two.
My entire area is being taken over by fancy shops that sell nowt that I want to buy; I could do with a decent coffee shop down there. Not yet another exclusive kitchen shop or some place that sells Aga’s. Who the hell uses an Aga in this day and age, who the hell has a house or kitchen big enough to cope with an Aga cooker? What happened to shops that sell stuff the masses want to buy? In this day and age of the credit crunch, I don’t see any of these snotty shops surviving.
Luxury goods do sell, there is no debate, but I fail to see why my corner of the street has to be deluged by them.
Old Hugh put it nicely “ A proper old shop selling hardware and curtain rings is what’s needed, that or a shop selling cold cuts. In my day you got your food locally and in season. When did Italian ceramic tiles suddenly come into season? Mind you that deli up in Byres road sells oatcakes that could double up as wooden tiles any day, floors you can eat; now there’s an advertising slant that would work”
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Never ask ‘What are you thinking?” in case your man does in fact start to tell you. Most men have nothing in their head and just make stuff up like invading Daleks, stories about evil marmosets, sea monkeys and Premier league football.
Husband and I had a night out at a lovely five star hotel near Ayr when I was performing at The Burns Festival. There was nothing but trees swaying in the wind and some birds cheeping in the background. I felt it was a good time to ask him what he was thinking about.
“Well, I was wondering if marmosets are evil monkeys, I don’t like the look of them, and then I was imagining what the world would be like if Daleks did take over the world and then I wanted to see if there was football on the telly.
Sometimes I think about moths and wonder what the hell they are thinking about flocking to a bright light, you would think all moths would tell other moths to stay away from lights. The other night I was wondering if sea monkeys should still be on sale, as they are just tiny fleas and not really wee creatures that wear a crown and serve cookies to smiling sea monkey kids. It’s a con Janey. Do you ever think about that? I bought them and was really disappointed when I just bred water fleas, do you think flip flops are bad for your feet? I wore some years ago and they hurt”
I stared at husband and wished I hadn’t asked him anything at all. His head is full of utter shit. I am fully convinced that he just picked random subjects to talk about and blathered it all out to shut me up.
So my point is- don’t ask men what they are thinking, it’s a waste of time.
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My daughter mocks my musical tastes regularly “Mum Dean Friedman’s songs are bizarre how on earth can you listen to that tosh?” she giggled as I belted out my favourite chorus “Did you see Lisa? Yes, I saw Lisa” from the song “Lucky Stars” from 1978.
She let me listen to her latest Snoop Dog single “Sensual Seduction”. It has a back beat of electro pop that sounded so fresh and new.
I smiled, sat her down and clicked on Herbie Hancock on You Tube; she was amazed to hear the man sing an early similar version of her favourite rap star’s latest hit.
Why do the youth of today think their musical taste is far superior to the older generations? It’s all been done before.
The German pop synthesiser group Kraftwerk, were making sounds in the late 60s that generations of pop stars would follow.
Music is one of the things my daughter and I share a passion for and she was interested to hear how back in the 70s my brother and I would tune into Radio Luxembourg to hear a wider range of music.
They played fabulous pop tunes and lesser known acts and introduced me to an amazing collection of songs and bands that I would never have got to listen to through the standard BBC or local radio stations in Scotland.
Steely Dan, Supertramp, Nils Lofgren, Al Stewart and Todd Rundgren quickly became my hero’s through that crackly old radiogram we had at home.
Now in today’s youth driven MySpace and YouTube world, every genre of music is readily available and instantly downloadable for everyone to enjoy.
But I loved my old radio, lying in bed slowly turning that dial till I finally found Radio Luxembourg was just the best feeling in the world.
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Who knew I would get to this age and question everything? I no longer know who I am supposed to be. A mother, a wife a person? I don’t really know the answer anymore.
Every time I go away for a period of time I come back to a changed household. Ashley has trouble asserting her role; I know she has problems being over shadowed by me, I don’t blame her at 22 I would hate to be known as ‘Annie Currie’s daughter’ and she is still known as ‘Janey Godley’s Daughter’. She gets frustrated I assume.
At this point in her life she should be full of life and confidence, but there is an unusually reversed role play in our dynamics. I should be old and menopausal, put out to graze and she as the younger vital female should be the one blazing a trail, showing me all things I would be missing from my youth. But because I am the one still out there working, doing comedy and enjoying world travel, these roles have been emotionally delayed or reversed to say the least.
She is at home with her dad and that is supposed to be me. I am the older woman; I should be at home dealing with middle age.
Ashley is still at university and doing well. I am so very proud of her, like you cannot imagine. Still she has to watch me pack bags and go off on tour with comedy every week.
I hope I am not stunting her in anyway, though I don’t know what to do about that as I love my job.
Husband just gets on with everything and accepts his role as man about the house. I sometimes feel an intruder when I get back as he and Ashley have their own stuff that they do and I get in the way. I don’t like TV shows they watch, I dislike the food they choose and I seem to be annoying everyone!
They breathe a sigh of relief when I slope off to my room and read or sleep.
I don’t know who I am supposed to be.
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I have been on more aeroplanes than an American President; well that’s what it feels like. The good news is my long haul flight home from NZ was great. On both long flights (NZ to Hong Kong and then onto London) I got three seats to myself, which is perfect for my wee body to get a lie down.
The annoying thing about the seats though, is the arm rests don’t go fully back into the seats, so you are kind of crushed lying down, but still it was better than being jammed in one seat for 27 hours.
Husband was waiting at the airport for me in Glasgow. He was lovely, all shaved and showered, suited and booted. It was so cool to see him; I ran and jumped on him!
Ashley was waiting at home and I hugged her so tight for ages, I really missed them.
My house was all clean and smelling nice, so both of them have been busy.
So my suitcase is all unpacked and broken, yes – my brand new luggage got crushed on its journey and the great news is that British Midland just called and are sending me new luggage tomorrow, straight to my door! I love British Midland.
I don’t have jet lag as I slept last night for ten hours and am back on track. Am now organising my next trip which is pretty soon and I will pack up again and go off to do comedy in another town, another place.
I lay down last night and was thinking all about my NZ mates and how much I miss them already. I always leave a wee bit of me behind in the land of the long white cloud. The good news is I will be back there next year.
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Here in my hotel room in Auckland I am packing up the last of my luggage and stuff to catch the late flight to Hong Kong. Soon I will be flying across the world and home to my family. I can’t wait to see them.
Equally I can’t wait to come back to New Zealand, what a place it is!
This land of the long white cloud is my second home from home and the comics in NZ are just a delight to behold. I adore them all and will miss them terribly.
I spent the day in the sunshine up in the open air pool and spa. All the comics from last nights award show were all drunk and still awake and flailing about in the hot tub. They really are a hardy bunch!
Scott and Bridget who own the Classic Comedy Bar and who brought me over have been awesome and treated me like a princess since I arrived.
I feel a bit sad leaving my spiritual comedy home, but can’t wait to see husband and Ashley. Let’s all cross our fingers and hope I get an upgraded flight and come home in luxury and comfort?
I will blog as soon as I get home to Glasgow…until then dear friends…speak soon.
I am coming home…
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