Janey Godley’s Blog

Well this week I perform my play Smack-The Point of Yes in Glasgow at Peterson Parkhall. I am currently rehearsing the whole thing again. It is about a woman who stays in a difficult marriage and never takes drugs and how her alter-self does take drugs and how both their lives pan out, I play the two characters. Am bricking it in case I forget the words and the play has currently sold 100 tickets…

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The Sunday papers are full of articles all about “Do we Brits Have No manners?’ or “Are We Misusing the English language?”.

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Well I sat and watched it just then on the BBC Scotland and I was very pleased with it, I do have the fattest chin in the country…but the make up was not too visible and that’s what I was really worried about.

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There is nothing worse than having your own husband teach you how to cook 25 years after you get married to him…I mean, it’s a bit fucking late eh? He never gives up trying to show me stuff….

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I cannot find my favourite skirt to wear on TV this weekend. It is my favourite black/chiffon short flirty skirt that I love. Ashley had it last and I know that I will never find it if she has thrown it into that quagmire of a room. Her room is like the Amityville House but without the nice paint and good times, there is a heap of dark looking clothes that just lies there on the floor in a heap and I am sure its actually alive and when other clothes get thrown in there, that scary ‘Steven King’ type seething man made fibre mass on the sticky floor gobbles them up and slowly but evilly ‘burps’.

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I had two whole days of feeling very bleak and down. I have no idea how it happened and I am not so sure it’s actually gone to be honest. I am into week one of my detox diet and have not smoked at all and am not doing nicotine therapy and am feeling slightly spaced out.

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We were in the car, all packed and listening to the radio. I was very bored and decided that each record that came on I would give my husband my original memory of how I recall hearing that song in the year it was a hit…like this.

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Am still on my diet, which means NO sweets or choccies whatsoever and it is killing me, don’t forget I stopped smoking again two days ago…I know-my life is fucking evil hell. I am not on any substitute nicotine or anything, I am simply gnawing the legs off my table and thinking of the various ways to slowly kill husband as he sits there eating crunchy chocolate biscuits. I have had chick pea and rice with roasted salmon for lunch and went out with my old pal Janette for dinner. We ordered haggis, neeps and tatties…my dish was burnt and the haggis was all crunchy and decimated. Who the hell can burn our National dish? How hard is it to heat up haggis? I could not even eat it and then I refused dessert.

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It’s making me blue, all this rain. I know that’s selfish in comparison to other natural weather disasters, but I feel sick with the rain…every day …every hour…rain and more rain. The streets look slick, the sky is constantly dark throughout the day and the incessant noisy ‘swish’ as car go driving through the wet roads beside my flat backed up with constant drip, drip from the skies is making me crazy.

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It has now rained for exactly 12 hours here in Glasgow. I am waiting on Ashley coming home from Uni and I know she will be soaked through and that drives me mad…like me, she never wears a heavy coat and NEVER carries a brolly.

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Firstly, I got very bored and tried in rainy Manchester so I booked myself in for a beauty massage. I waited outside the salon and had a hot chocolate in a smart coffee bar. Beside me was this very old, yet extremely poised elegant lady. She was smoking those pastel coloured cigarettes Sobraine, so I leaned over and said “Wow, I haven’t seen those fancy fags in years”.

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Manchester is heaving, the whole city is gearing up for the big England versus Austria football match tonight, and the city is being hammered by relentless rain. I am here to emcee Jongleurs and last night went as good as. I love the Manchester club, there is something about it that gives it that 'bear pit' feeling, which can be scary but is more often just fun.

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I have realised that over the past 25 years I have managed to manipulate or as it is called in upper class circles managed the art of ‘House Husbandry’.

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Went into the post office yesterday, I needed to post a DVD of my show to some TV dude, so I thought the big flagship Post Office was best in town. I walked around and around looking for those padded envelopes that the DVD can fit into perfectly. The place was so busy and I had to weave in and out of people who were in the long snake like queue. I could not find the envelopes anywhere…then I noticed they had SOLD OUT of all the posting wrap and packaging, but they now sell hairdryers and kettles IN A FUCKING POST OFFICE? For the love of God …why? How was I supposed to wrap up my DVD? In a kettle and post it?

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The woman with the long black shiny hair woke up on the satin bed;

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Yes he was and I missed him! Fucking hell -for the love of God what is wrong with me? How could I miss him?

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Sorry about being late, I have been working away and had no PC to work on. Firstly I went to Galashields, it was a dark car journey (which I hate even though I don’t drive!), Alan Anderson drove me there and I was a nervous passenger, silly me as he is a good driver. Anyway, the gig was fun and with being a smaller audience I got to do a more intimate gig which I love.

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