I recently read my blog and noticed all I have done is moan and that’s not good. I need to get out of my scary mood and carry on being informative and funny. Neither of which is easy when you are tired.
So I thought I would tell you a funny story about what happened on the way to the shops today.
I needed a newspaper and some bread and happily walked to the local shops, my hair was being its usual ‘Scarecrow backcombed on acid, possibly restyled by a crack whore who is blind’ look. My favourite look I may add. So as I crossed the road, all my hair and I do mean the whole of my hairy head whipped in front of my face and made me totally blind for a few seconds. In these few seconds I almost got hit by a motorbike.
The biker screeched to a halt and then got off his bike, ripped off his hood and guess who it was?
Yes, it was an angry biker! A man who was pissed off that I almost killed myself beneath his very safely driven wheels stood and shouted at me.
“What are you thinking of? I almost belted you across the tarmac you mad whore?” he screamed as small Asian men laughed at me as they were coming out of the Mosque across from my home.
“I am sorry my hair got in my eyes” I mumbled.
“What is wrong with your hair? Its needs to be tied back if you can’t control it, I use a hair band and some good firm gel” he answered back.
So there I was getting hair tips from an angry biker, who nearly killed me, and he did actually have good controlled hair, it was all sleek and tied back.
“I hate it tied back, it makes me look severe and old” Was all I could say back.
“Well you could just tie it back at the top and leave the rest down” He added.
How fucking surreal was my day? He was right, I either look severe or dead on the Glasgow streets….what can I say.
He said his goodbyes, gave me some more hair tips and roared off on his bike.
Today I have stopped moaning about my transient lifestyle and get on with my job and life.
A near death experience and seriously good hair advice.

I was nervous about being in the car and being driven a distance, but I was ok in the end. I need to get over the car crash and get on with my life. I had an odd gig in Newcastle, I addressed a group of Aspergers sufferers and their partners, my husband has mild Aspergers syndrome and talking about my experiences was actually good. The people their apparently enjoyed the talk as well and I got to answer some questions about my relationship living with a man.
Then I went to the Literature and Philosophy Library to take part in a panel discussing ‘Comedy-what’s the Point?’ that was really interesting to hear peoples view on what they thought of live comedy. Later on we did a comedy gig in the library and that was awesome…being surrounded by all that history and architecture, millions of books and huge paintings getting to tell jokes and share funny stories…really odd space to work in.
There was a huge leather topped table, so I just climbed onto it, sat down and chatted with the microphone.
There were a few philosophers in the crowd and we had a bit of a banter…which was really good.
I love my job and need to stop worrying and being stressed, husband gave me a big talking to about my constant fretting, he made me sit down and go through my diary and helped me book five train and three flight journeys, helped me organise my diary and told me to share the problems more and stop shutting everyone out to deal with things myself.
I have resolved to share my work load and get into problems that get me down and in future, make sure that stuff that is worrying me will be talked about…maybe it was me who had Aspergers and not him?

Well, here I am on my new laptop, after all the shit of broken pc; I went out today and bought a new one. It took hours to load it all up so am sorry I have been away for a few days, not my fault…pc problems!
I am off tomorrow to Newcastle, I am doing workshop thing during the day for Aspergers Syndrome help group, as my husband has Aspergers, and boy is that fun?
So I have been exasperated by the antics of my main home computer, it broke six weeks ago and now they STILL haven’t fixed it, so much for PC services, they are about as fucking useful as blind window washers; I hope they all fall into the sea with the stress they have caused me.
My new teeth are still looking good and one unexpected bonus is that I can no longer bite my nails as they will snap my veneers – so for the first time in my life I actually have nails. It feels so very weird and I am scratching everyone and everything as I go about my daily business.
I did get an apology from British Airways, they sent me a bog standard letter of sorry-ness, which to be honest will never make up for the nasty way I was treated by that angry woman at 5am in Glasgow who is the supervisor called Lillian…God knows she must need a hug after the way she behaved. I will NEVER fly BA again and would urge everyone who gets treated badly to complain and vote with your cash. I did tell the customer services woman (who was very nice) that I will be putting it on my blog which gets LOADS of hits daily…so I did it!
Mind you I have had a great week, what with hob nobbing with Mr Clooney and Jake Gylenhall… who am I to complain about anything?
Oh News just in…recent pictures in the press reveal that Kiera Knightley’s new boyfriend is her co-star from Pride and Prejudice –‘Rupert Friend’.
In Edinburgh fringe 2002, Rupert was starring in a play called ‘Kassandra’ with a cool crew of actors, Rupert was lovely and we became mates, in fact on my daughters bedroom wall is a picture of Rupert dressed in US Marine clothes holding me on stage as he carried me off after my last night show…he is gorgeous! I had him first Kiera!

I am slightly overwhelmed at life just now, not only am I trying to book flights to NZ, trying to secure venues for Edinburgh, trying to rehearse my play for next week AND try to be me for a few days and all I can do is sleep.
I love doing the comedy workshops for kids in Drumchapel, it really is so rewarding. Those wee teenagers really throw themselves into the improv exercises and take part in every scenario we give them. I will miss them when it all ends.
I feel ragged and tired and can’t seem to get on top of everything at home, the ironing has come to resemble Mount Killimonjaro and the windows have so much dirt on them I think a dense fog has landed on Glasgow ever single morning when I try to look out into the street.
So tonight I am going to bed early to sleep more and try to be rejuvenated for tomorrow.

So here I am back in Glasgow, my blogs have been very sporadic due to the nature of my life and laptop, so here we are then…the full story. I had a really mental week to be coping with and after the car crash, the early flight where BA totally screwed me around at 5am, to the dash to the BBC in Television centre to do an audition with a script that I had only been given the day before, I was stunned that I actually managed to speak English and got through the audition no problem! Trust me my brain was fried.

To make matters worse the cab driver who took me to my flat turns out to be the ex husband of a TV star, he is Italian and around 50 years of age and spent the whole journey telling me what a slut his actress ex wife was. This man was obnoxious and I sat there as he told me how many men she fucked, how she drank too much and what a bitch she was until I finally snapped and said “Maybe you drove her to all that with your constant whingeing, I personally feel like fucking strangers just to get away from you, please drive the car and stop disrespecting women and keep your opinions to yourself”
Getting to the flat was a relief.

The flat is great as always, I love the people at Crown Lawn who always look after me and they are the one solid thing and security I have in London! The internet connection is spot on, and the place is always immaculately clean.

Going to the After show party at the Brits was exciting, though as explained before the amount of near naked girls was slightly disturbing. At least the BAFTA’s are always guaranteed to be classy.
I have to add that my nights at the Groucho club were just spectacular; I took a couple of copies of my autobiography for the staff there who had requested them. Meeting Jude Law (who I had met previously) and the charming Ben Chaplin was a nice experience. They were both really nice guys to have a chat with.

The night of the BAFTA’s was such a trauma; firstly I was so excited about seeing the article in the Sunday Times

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2099-2034191,00.html

I was very happy with the way the magazine dealt with Ashley and I, the Sunday Times are very good at their job.

So there I was all hyper and I laid out all my clothes to get prepared for my big night. I decided to do a new hairdo, I decided I would blow dry my hair straight and then put in a collection of rollers around the ends of my hair to give it a wee wavy look…well that was the idea, turns out that half the fucking nasty wee evil rollers got tangled into my wiry bushy hair and had to be physically ripped out, taking half my scalp with it! I looked like an owl that had been through 40 minutes in a dry cycle of a tumble dryer and I only had 20 minutes to go before the taxi picked us up!
So I had to stand naked in front of the mirror ( I cant blow dry fully clothed it would make me sweat to death) and fix the ends of my hair and then rush back on all of my clothes. Just then I realised I couldn’t find my sexy necklace…so in a blind panic I ripped everything out of the wardrobe, scattered all my stuff out of my case and finally found the damn thing. I stood up, all sweaty, hair all bushy (again) and finally put on my necklace, the taxi arrived and Monica and I were off.

London was dark and very rainy, I envisioned squelching down the red carpet with brolly ends poked into my skull…well my scalp was already numb from the roller ripping event.
The taxi was caught in heavy traffic, we started to panic as we approached Leicester Square and encountered traffic works that prevented us from getting into the square. Time was crucially ticking away, we had to be in by 6pm or they close the doors.

All the big stars had already been down the red carpet, I know this as Ashley was keeping me updated by phone. Finally the car made it into the square after the police showed the driver where to go and we were literally the last to get there, we found out later.
We got out of the car, a huge guy offered us a brolly and off we went. The sides of the red carpet were rammed with hundreds of photographers all screaming and shouting at the few stars who were still promenading down the entrance to the cinema that was the venue for the awards.

The rain squelched as I predicted beneath my leather stiletto’s, the ground was slippy and I realised with horror that we have to actually climb a set of Perspex stairs and get up onto a huge transparent platform made of illuminated glass and walk to the other side down more steps taking us into the main door. This arrangement was daunting, more so as every step of the way had hundreds of photographers and fans all watching ever move.
My heart almost stopped as the minute I put foot onto the glass walkway my feet skated….fuck- I was going to fall on my well dressed, bushy haired ass in front of the world’s media.

I felt the brolly being carried by Monica jag into my head; I walked slowly and yet elegantly all the while breathing slowly, as I managed to get to the other side I saw Heath Ledger being interviewed on the carpet down the five ominous steps now facing me.
I took the first step and managed it, the second step and gained confidence, the third and fourth step were slippy and the final step caught me out. It was shorter than the rest and wetter, my heart lurched, I stumbled, I saw the bank of photographers at a slightly skewed angle as my body fell forward, my knee buckled and my body weight was heaving forward and then by some amazing luck and skill I actually recovered….I never hit the floor and landed in a puddle behind Heath Ledger…I heard a few of the photographers laugh loudly, some gasped… but I made it.
I saw the smartly dressed staff in front of me, egging me on to get to the door without falling over, like parents encouraging their wee kids to the final line of the egg and spoon race.
I was upright and marching home to the big glass doors and safety. They practically hugged me as I got there! A big man in a dinner suit reached out his arms and helped me get over a wet patch on the carpet and led me in from the rain and horror of that near ass fall!

I was home and dry…thank God. We rushed up to our seats and found the show actually starting! Fucking how late were we? I was staggered at the amount of people and the seats were the furthest away up the back and right against the side, it was like sitting on a cheap airline seat in a posh frock! What crap seats…we could not even see the stage! Monica and I were crushed and damp and annoyed at the horrid seating.
I decided it would be easier to just get back out of the seat and stand in aisle up the back and watch the show. So I did.

The show was long and I missed some of it as I went outside into the foyer and sat on a big comfy chair and watched it on a monitor, which was all I was doing inside the auditorium, but in a tiny chair.

The show finally finished and we got a car to take us to the ball at the Grosvenor Hotel. As we were walking down the stairs, Jake Gyllenhall was standing alongside us, clutching his gloriously gold BAFTA award.

A lady beside me asked him “Can I touch it?”
Jake smiled and held it to her to touch; we all slowly kept making our way slowly on the stairs.

He smiled at me and I said “Can I stroke it?”
He politely held it to me and I added quickly “No…not that!” and he laughed out loudly and people around us laughed. He then opened his expensive black jacket and said “Help yourself”
So I stood there and giggled as I stroked his very toned chest! He then lifted up the back of his jacket and grabbed my hand and put it on his ass and added “You want some of this!” I kept laughing, his smile was huge and he obviously has a good sense of humour.
I told him I was a stand up comic and he answered “I love stand up, wow what’s your name?” We chatted a bit more and then reached the ground floor entrance to the ball.
What a guy, we then posed for a picture. I was well happy!
You can see the photo’s on

http://janeygodley.bravehost.com/myPictures/me+and+jake.jpg

http://janeygodley.bravehost.com/myPictures/me+and+Mr+Clooney.jpg

As you can see I also managed to have a good chat and photo with George Clooney…albeit in the gents toilets…well that’s another story!