I have been burnt, exhausted and scorched by the hot sun in London and thank God, it’s beginning to get cooler! Husband and I are still in here in Westminster. The gigs are going great, life is good. I miss my daughter like a piece of me has been cut off.

 

I woke up this morning and had one of those moments where I felt incredibly old and my life had passed me by. I worried that I was too old for stand up, too ancient for TV to even give me a chance, too ugly and fat to be considered for any film. It was a horrible empty evil place to be. Maybe I should have done all this years ago? I spent my entire twenties and a good chunk of my 30s running a bar, why should I get a second chance at life? My mammy didn’t she was dead at my age.

 

It’s strange, but I don’t see the older men in comedy worry about this. I am quite old amongst the female stand ups, but am not older than a lot of the guys. Why do I get so insecure?

 

Maybe I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and give myself a good kick up the ass?

 

I walked through Westminster today and joined the Liberty protestors who were trying to support the MPs who were against the latest law that the government decided to pass through Parliament. They wanted to raise the detention time of suspected terrorists up to 42 and the bastards managed it. It is a sad day for liberty in the UK.

 

I am beginning to hate the one eyed Protestant Gordon Brown more than I hated that closet Catholic Blair, stupid insecure men that seem to believe they have the ear of God yet cause more wars. Don’t even get me started on the Christian Bush!

 

If he exists, God must be sitting ‘up there’ saying “Hey, I know nothing about this and believe these men don’t hear my voice!”

 

I need to stop procrastinating and start being a bit more proactive about my life.

 

On a lighter note I was chatting to a woman I know in the street in Soho, I noticed in the harsh sunlight that she had a big brown ring around her chin and jaw line where her make up stopped abruptly.

 

It was like she had drawn a big brown pencil around her hairline and head and from ear to ear and simply coloured in her face with dark brown cream, her foundation was coffee coloured and her neck and décolletage was white and pasty.

 

I was really tempted to blend it all in and rub it down her neck line! It made me rush to a mirror and check mine, but I knew that was futile as I wear very little make up and for once I was pleased about that!

 

I was frustrated with myself that I didn’t tell her, but I didn’t know her well enough to be able to explain it to her, she may have taken offence.

 

It made me recall the time I met Rachel Weiss the actress in a toilet. Her beautiful black Chanel dress had chalk all over her bum area. Other famous women stood and stared at it and said nothing. I looked at her smiled and said “You have a big white chalky ass” she was horrified and I stood and patted her pert bum and cleaned it all off. She was so grateful and the other women looked away. “Only a real woman and true sister would have pointed that out, thanks” she kissed my cheek and left the toilet.

 

I feel bad I never helped the scary make up lady now!

 

So remember girls, blend-blend-blend! I never thought I would ever give out make up tips on my blog!

 

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?

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 25^th 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!

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”

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.