The other night Ashley came home late from University, she was roaring drunk.
She had been out with some guys from class and drank Tequila.
I was sitting happily watching TV and the giant stumbling daughter from hell arrived. She banged every door in the house and started speaking very posh, which is a sure sign of being drunk “Mama, I am in the hall and I am absolutely tip top” she shouted in some mock middle class accent.

Not only was she drunk but she was speaking like Hugh Grant.

“Great” I said sarcastically to husband who smiled and gestured his acceptance of the situation by spreading open his arms and saying “Well she is 21 years old”.

Ashley threw herself onto the sofa, reeking of smelly alcohol and proceeded to eat the baked potato leftovers that were lying on my plate. She dropped potato all down her legs and I demanded she get to bed.

She laughed like a manic and headed off to her room, making enough noise to wake up the entire block of flats. She knocked over the drying frame which was full of wet washing, so my damp jumper landed in the recycling box amongst the sticky plastic pop bottles.

She fell asleep. I kept her door open so I could check she wasn’t going to choke on her vomit, as this haunts me, I knew a few people who died of this when I was young.

Next morning I was awoken by the sound of her retching into a plastic bucket I had placed beside her bed.

“Mum!” she cried through the vomiting noises. I went into her room and she was laying half out the bed, damp with sweat and trying to tie up her masses of dark hair that were threatening to land amongst the yellow bile in the bucket.

I did the good mummy thing and held up her hair and sponged her back with a cold cloth and she retched up more yellow stuff.

“I am sorry mum” she mumbled as her body heaved over and over to get a teaspoonful of yellow bile out of her alcohol poisoned stomach.

I spent most of the day checking her, sponging her, washing out a vomitty bucket and encouraging her to sip some water that bounced straight back up out of her trampoline like dodgy tummy.

By teatime she was starting to come round, her body had sweated and vomited out most of the Tequila and she managed to keep down a glass of water.

“I am never getting drunk again” she declared, her white face and huge hollow eyes looked like she meant it. Probably she will, but I hope she never gets that sick again.

I was gigging with a lovely Asian comic, Inder Manocha. He is an amazing comic and wonderful man and when we spoke backstage about Asians and Scottish people’s attitude towards them it made me recall when I was young.
I lived in Shettleston in Glasgow’s East End and in the 1960s, we had many small Asian shops but no Asians actually lived there, they only worked in the area. There was a small shop at the end of the street and they were a lovely family. Aslam was the father and he had a wee boy called Khalid and he was my friend. Back then people in Glasgow were racist by nature; they would often look down on Asians and be openly racist.
My mammy was friends with many of the Asian shopkeepers as she ran so much credit and debt through her own poverty and relied on the shopkeepers good nature, yet she would still call them ‘Paki’s’ to me, I hated that she did this.

Anyway Khalid and I used to play outside at football and if we ever kicked the ball and it hit some man Khalid was always incredibly polite and shout “Sorry Sir” and apologise profusely and that would annoy me. He was being so subservient to these men who would shout “Fucking watch it Paki” and I would hate them for their rudeness.

One time I felt so sorry for Khalid as he seemed lonely and not many people played with him I invited him up to my house to play and he quickly said “No”.

“Why won’t you come? Are you not allowed?” I asked, I was worried he thought he may not be treated properly or was mistrustful.

“You have nits and lice that’s what my dad told me and I am not really allowed to play with you” he replied. I was taken aback as I always thought he was slightly disadvantaged and wouldn’t mind and because I was white, everything about my poverty would be overlooked because he was Asian and needed all the friends he could get! I was aghast! I was being typically racist, as I was taught to be by my peers and never thought to look past it all, but I was only nine years old.

Weeks later we met up and he was carrying a bag with photos in to take to his grand mother.
He showed me a photo of him in his school uniform. It was a posh looking uniform and he was standing beside a mansion.

“It that your school?” I asked.
“No that’s my house” he simply replied. You see, most of the Asians in Glasgow were really hard working and quite rich, they worked in the poor areas but the lived in amazing houses on the other side of the city and drove fancy cars, yet Glaswegians would always look down on them as if they were better because their skin was white!

Glasgow has changed though racism still exists; people seem to be less accepting of other cultures since 9/11 and the rise of radical Muslims. I hope it changes. I wonder how my old mate Khalid is now.

Went over to see my favourite wee great-niece Abi, her wee sister Julia and big brother Shawn, they are so cute. Shawn is ten, Abi is four and wee Julia is one year old now and is almost walking about. They are the kids of my niece Ann Margaret.

 

Abi is the funniest wee human being in the world and features on my videos, etc.

 

I walked into the hall and their nasty grumpy cat ‘Squeak’ wrapped itself around my leg and purred loudly. This is highly unusual as Squeak is an evil grouchy cat that hates everyone and everything except shitting and eating.

 

“Why is the cat nice?” I asked Abi, as Squeak shoved its ass right up my leg, I suppose I should have guessed.

 

“Well mummy says Squeak wants a man cat to kiss it so they can have kittens and when she is like this, she gets all cuddly, but only her bottom likes cuddles coz her head still bites you” Abi explained to me. It was clear to see that the evil cat was on the heat and was all horny; I was disgusted at her blatant sexual advances and tried to shake her off my leg.

 

I went through to the living room and wee Julia was standing holding onto a table, doing the wobbly leg dance and scaring the beejebus out of me as she almost knocked her eye on the corner of the sharp edges. I hate this baby stage when wee babies are practically suicidal and constantly crack their heads on floors and other household objects. Why can’t we just wrap them up in bubble-wrap until they are three years old?

 

I walked out of the room for a minute and came back in to see Julia being ass rubbed by the evil cat, I yelped out loud as Julia appeared to be sticking pretend play money up the end that the cat was shoving in her face, the cat looked pleased and Julia was amazed that the cat was letting her near without trying to scratch her big blue eyes out.

 

“Oh dear, I think plastic money has been shoved into the cats nana, Julia has been sitting with her on the floor and that’s what it looked like she was doing…I am sorry” I explained to the baby’s mum Ann Margaret.

 

“Oh Shit, get her back from Paris Hilton the cat” Ann Margaret screamed and washed the baby’s hands and prised the plastic coins out of her wee chubby tight fist.

 

I got Abi dressed and took her out a walk to the local park. The sun was shining so bright and we both took our coats off and put them in the buggy. I decided to bring the baby’s buggy so Abi could get a wee push in it, she had to become a big girl at three years old when Julia was born, but she loves a push in the stroller occasionally.

 

The trees in the park were so beautiful with their autumn leaves all fluttering down and making a gorgeous carpet of red and gold on the pathways.

 

“Look Aunty Janey, the leaves are so pretty, lets collect some and make an autumn picture with glue when we get home” Abi gasped as she leapt from the stroller and started picking up armfuls of crispy leaves.

 

She stopped every second to show me yet another leaf, “Look at this one, it’s so beautiful, feel it Aunty Janey” she held out yet another red leaf with awe and wonderment, like she had just discovered leaves for the very first time.

 

Her wee face was a picture; she truly loves nature and flowers. We approached the lake and she leaned round in the stroller to look up at me and shouted “Remember I fell in the lake last time it was summer?”

 

“Yes, I do remember, you scared the hell out of us all, why did you fall in?” I asked.

 

“Well, I thought I was at the side and then I looked down and just fell over and my head went in first and the water tasted like fish” her wee cute face and lispy mouth were so animated, she has amazing big brown eyes and the curliest hair, she is stunningly cute is our Abi.

 

“Well I am glad you were ok” I told her and we pushed onto the swing park.

 

Just then a squirrel ran in front of us and stopped dead in our path, its bushy fine tail twitched and it looked at Abi. “Hello wee squirrel, come here so I can see your cute wee face and give you a kiss” Abi beckoned the wee animal, but is scampered into the bushes.

 

“You can’t touch squirrels Abi, they have sharp claws” I explained.

 

“I know but their wee faces are my favourite faces on anything, they have really cute faces, not like swans they have angry faces and mice have sharp faces, ducks have silly faces and pigeons have cheeky faces, but squirrels have the nicest faces and I just want to kiss them” she told me in one big long torrent of a sentence.

 

You forget how toddlers explain every emotion and theory that they have very openly, its so refreshing to be with her, she tells you everything, she feels, smells sees and hears each and every moment it happens. Kids have a running commentary of their landscape and feelings!

 

We finally made it home and Abi took the leaves upstairs to show her mum every leaf separately and explained the exact spot where we found each leaf, poor Ann Margaret was exhausted. Abi talks more than me.

 

Then Shawn arrived from school, wee baby Julia’s whole face lit up when she saw her big brother come into the room, she immediately dropped everything she was trying to shove into her mouth and threw up both arms at him.

 

Shawn, with all the expertise of being a big brother who has already nursed two babies younger than him, scooped her up and held her tight. Julia snuggled into his neck and sucked her thumb contentedly and closed her big eyes.

 

She promptly fell asleep as Shawn walked around the living room picking things up with his other hand; it’s amazing to see how deft he is with her. He sat down and settled her into the crook of his wee ten year old arms and kissed her head as she sucked away at her thumb snoozing. He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and cuddled her as he watched kids TV and stroked the baby’s head. He was completely nonplussed at having a kid sleep on him as he fiddled with the remote control and continued gently stroking the baby, like he was born to nurture.

 

Abi clambered over Shawn, she too is his baby sister and demanded his attention, he simply opened up his other arm and let Abi snuggle in there as he watched cartoons and kissed the two wee girls heads. He looked like a wee man sitting there, it doesn’t seem that long ago I was bottle feeding him and pushing him in the pram. He has grown up so quick since the girls arrived.

 

It makes you feel old watching them all grow up so quickly.

 

I had a great day in the sunshine, but have to reminiscing about babies as it makes me broody, Ann Margaret always laughs when I say this and promises to give me all three of her kids for a week and see how that sorts my broody hormones out.

 

I would have them in a minute, but not the hormonal cat- that she can keep.

The Glasgow Stand was an awesome gig on Friday, the place was crowded and the audience were very appreciative. How nice to get such a reaction! It was great to gig in my own fair city; I am off to Leicester next weekend to work- back on the road.

Saturday morning I was off to the beautiful wee fishing village of South Queensferry, the sunshine was sparkling off the water with the Forth Rail Bridge in the distance, it was magical looking.

 

I was doing a wee bit to camera for a South Bank TV special on Scottish Authors. The producer asked me to wear black, which is easy for me as I hardly own any clothing in many other colours. The bad news is- I managed to grow a huge spot on my chin just in time for my big TV appearance.

That always happens.

 

Saturday night and back at the Stand in Glasgow, the crowd was fabulous again, I so love live stand up. It’s the best feeling in the world getting up on stage and having a great gig.

Woke up Sunday with a stonking horrible headache, it almost debilitated me and I had to go back to bed and cuddle up to husband. It was really annoying as the sunshine was wonderful outside, I wanted to go out and enjoy the weather but I couldn’t bear to even face the light. This weather is awesome just now; I love Scotland in the sunny autumn.

 

This week will be busy again, so let’s chat later and if you guys are still up to writing my name ‘Janey Godley’ in chalk on your home town and email it to me when you can. Thanks all.

Tom McAnea was jailed last this week for six years in Glasgow after being caught printing millions of Euros and Sterling. ‘Hologram Tam’ he was dubbed by the Glasgow police, as he was an expert in his field.

 

Tam was known the world over for being the best in his business; he was a genius in his field. There was nothing that Tam couldn’t reproduce, right down to the secure watermarks and fine paper that was needed to organise such a venture.

 

Tam is a good friend of mine and every poster or flyer I ever got made and previewed on this blog was made and printed at his now infamous print shop Print Link.

 

Tam is such a great raconteur; you could never get a job done in the shop for his funny stories.

Sometimes we would end up in the local bar and Tam would hold court with his anecdotes, I will miss him but I will go visit if I can and write to him.

 

It seems the local police have many pictures of the comings and goings of the late night shifts at Print Link and I am sure they must have some images of me, as I used to work in there late at night getting the posters designed. I don’t care, as I knew nothing of the slab boy’s activities upstairs.

 

Many people reading this will assume that I sympathise with criminals…but you have to remember I lived within a criminal family most of my married life and to me corporate crime is deemed less worrisome than violent evil acts.

 

To be honest I think Tony Blair is more of a criminal than Tam; he dragged our country into an illegal war. The authorities say that Tam would have destabilised the economy with his forged notes.

 

No more than our shit government are already doing with funding a war against the Iraq’s as far as I am concerned.

 

I hope Tam has an easy time in prison and I know he will, as he was well loved within the criminal community and deserves the label genius, I just wish he had put his artistic talents into something more legal and was out on the streets contributing to the community.

 

I don’t know who is going to make my posters for the forthcoming festivals, unless of course the prison had an art department and Tam can still take orders.