Its been an odd day all round, I was standing at the bus stop outside the Home Office down near my flat at Marsham Street, waiting patiently on a bus. I heard a small commotion behind me and on the grass verge outside of the Home Office; a big black man had erected a small tent, and put up peace protest notice stating that he was being harassed by the Government. I stopped to read his notice and immediately police starting mounting the grass and pulled his tent apart. The big man started shouting and I reached for my mobile phone and started taking photo’s on my camera (Which I will post soon).

Before I could even get saving them to file a few men in suits surrounded me out from nowhere! I am not joking; it was sinister to say the least. I watched as the police got the big black guy to the ground and started moving him along the grass towards the police van. I pulled out a piece of paper and shouted to the black guy “What’s your name?” he looked at me and shouted “Fredrick Kamera”. “Is that with a K, I asked?”
The man was now on the ground with the policemen on top of him and he yelled back “Yes”.

Just then, a very handsome guy in a sharp grey suit and bright yellow tie appeared at my side, he touched my arm to get my attention, I turned and he made serious eye contact “You cant take pictures of the Home Office, its against the law” He smiled and leaned towards me “Can I see your phone?”
“No fuck off, if you try to take it I will scream, take your hands off me and quit with the charm, I will stop taking photos of the office building but I will continue to take photo’s of the dude who now has a police man standing on his neck” I sneered. I ran around to the other side and kept taking pictures, it was making the men very uncomfortable.

“What’s your name and who are you from, you know you need to stop shouting to that man and you need to stop this behaviour” Yellow tie smiley boy said.
“Fuck off, make me” I challenged him “This is a city that wont recognise Scottish Sterling as legal tender and you are telling me I have to shut up and stop being me, I have freedom of speech, what will you do? Stab my arse with a poisoned umbrella on Waterloo Bridge? You are the smallest James Bond ever, now get fucked mate or those builders across the road will witness you harassing me”

By now they were dragging Fredrick Kamera into a waiting police van. I watched and the suited man spoke again “Do you have a website?”
“Yes…why?” I asked.
“What’s it called? He continued. By now the place was crawling with office workers leaving the building who were now casually watching the fracas.
“I am not telling you shit, there will be forty cameras on me now, you look at them and work out who I am and do your job” I snapped. The black man was now in the police van and huckled away, no trace of him being on the grass existed.

“Its best if you just stop being a nuisance and move on now, that man had mental problems” the tiny James Bond spoke.
“What would happen if Jesus turned up here and stood on that ground and tried to tell the world he was here to save everyone and was appalled at the way people were treated, would you stand on his neck and throw him in a police van? You people say everyone is mentally retarded who speak out” I said.
“So you are a Christian?” he asked me.
“No I am not, I am just making a point you annoying man, look there is my bus” I ran off and caught the bus into town.

I had meetings and friends to catch up with and things to do all day…but if I suddenly drop off the radar and no longer blog…then you know what will have happened to me…the old syringe in the neck trick!
I will post the pics as soon as I work out how or go http://janeygodley.bravejournal.com/

I have had such fun in London so far, had good meetings with TV people, and had a great gig last night at Comedy Camp, got to meet up with Jay who is an old mate…and shopping eating and fun.
Yesterday I was at BBC television centre pitching a sketch show and screenplay. I got out at White City and was amazed to find that there is no bar or café local to the station, so people going to BBC for meeting etc…cant have a sit down or anything before they go. There are a few upmarket coffee places across the road and up to the new BBC centre which is not far but hardly near enough, so I thought about ditching the TV idea and buying a bar! Hold on…did that before for 15 years, why do I keep going back to that idea?

Last night coming home (did I just call the luxury apartment home...I wish) from Comedy Camp on the 88 bus through Westminster, Clare Short the politician got on, I stood up to give her my seat and she said “Its not necessary” I smiled and said ‘Listen you are an old burd and I am off at the next stop” she wasn’t that happy, but I was too busy listening to Doobie Brothers on the IPOD to care.

So today after another meeting with lovely telly person about various projects, I made my way to Bar Italia in Frith street, its my favourite coffee house in all of London Town. The whole shop front is covered in scaffolding, the building is being renovated.
After a good hot latte, I stood up and plugged in my earphones so that Steely Dan could carry me through Soho, when debris and lumps of masonry from above came crashing down on my head. It was fucking sore; the café manageress came out and was helpful in dusting me down and checking I wasn’t bleeding. She got the building manager to come to see me…this is where the fun began.

Now any man who wears jogging bottoms and shiny smooth loafers, with a Union Jack Jumper stretched to the limits over the big fat belly and a deep Cockney Accent with a slight lisp has got to be funny when your skull is sore. It was like trying to listen to verbal Sudoku!

He asked me where I was from.
“Glasgow” I replied whilst rubbing my scalp.
“Where about in Glasgow?” he mumbled, “east end” I said.
“Yea, we could be family, I am from Clerkenwell” he said.
I looked at him, wondering where this was going.
“Great” I sniggered “you know mate, where I from means nothing, that building site is unsafe, what are you going to do about it?”
“I know gangster Arthur Thompson” he smiled, as I still waited on the answer to my near skull smashing experience.
“He’s dead; listen mate, my head hurts who owns the building?” I snapped.
“Don’t threaten me” he hissed at me in his twisted strong cockney accent. It was like being harassed by a badly dressed Kray Brother.
“Ok, you need to stop the whole jellied eels, oi oi oi thing and tell me who I am supposed to call about this”
The upshot was he gave me the wrong phone number for Soho Estates who own the building; luckily I have the internet and called them direct.

I then spoke to the poshest man in the whole wide world, he apologised and urged me to go to hospital and reassured me they would do anything possible to help, but in fact they own the property but the sub contractor is responsible for the scaffolding and safety issues. I doubt that very much, ultimately it is the responsibility of the people who hire the people of the safety of the site…but in any case, I am not badly injured and am not suing.

So it is true I am the epicentre of disaster…maybe I will get a free coffee from Bar Italia?

I am finally rested; today I went up to Unique studio’s to record a show with John Ronson for his radio programme that airs next year. It was good fun and he is a very interesting man, he made me think a few times about my personality during the show!

Apparently pretending to have a sore kidney to get a free queue jumping pass at Disneyworld is not normal! The show was about how people cope with ‘waiting’…and in case you didn’t know I am shit at waiting, I cause chaos when forced to wait…see my blog about me sitting three hours on tarmac in Glasgow on Friday!

I sat on four tube trains today, it was relatively quite for this time of year in London, maybe its because of the time I travelled (lunchtime) or maybe people are still worried about tube travel…but it was enjoyable to have a seat in December in London on a train!

It was weird because I noticed that people watched every Asian or Middle Eastern person who were carrying a backpack…I sat beside the dark skinned man I saw, uncharacteristically for a London traveller, he showed me all the photo’s he had taken on his digital camera and we chatted. He had taken good photos of London’s landmarks.
There was a smelly/drunk/homeless man sitting near us and I always have compassion for the homeless and underprivileged (I was one for a time in my childhood) but this man STANK so badly I had my scarf around my head covering most of my face and certainly my mouth. I was sitting there dressed in black with a black scarf wrapped around me revealing only my eyes, speaking in a loud Scottish accent chatting with an Arab bloke who showed me his pictures. Everyone was looking at me!

I have a meeting tomorrow and a gig tomorrow night. So tonight I am sitting on my fat ass watching TV and chilling out.
Husband is walking around doing ‘things’. I do feel for him slightly, he really must feel out of place, being taken from his home comforts in Glasgow and travelling around the UK with me staying in hotels and swish London pads.
I think he wonders what happened to the barmaid he married, that wee girl who was going to settle in a Glasgow tenement and raise kids and keep a cat.

If someone had told me ten years ago that we would no longer be in the pub we ran for 15 years, him being my boss and me being the best sausage and chips fryer ever and that in the future he would not be working, I would be a writer and stand up comic/playwright and we would be living half our lives in hotels or in London, I would have thrown them out of my pub for being mentally disturbed…yet here we are! Strange the way things work out. I am happy though, I was never that good at frying and I fucking hated drunks.

Well it’s now Sunday, I am exhausted as when I landed in London on Friday, I literally hit the ground running and finally I can breathe!
After Ashley and I did the photo shoot and interview with the lovely man from the Sunday Times (we are the Magazine’s ‘Relative Values’ subjects) we went across to the local Soho newsagent for some bits and pieces, after we presented our purchases, he REFUSED to take our Scottish money…for people outside UK reading this let me explain.

Britain use a currency called sterling or British Pound if you want the loose terminology for it. In Scotland we have our own design of Sterling/British pound and it’s just a different design, not a different monetary value, we are British.

Some English cities mainly London do have shops and services that refuse Scottish ‘money’ on the grounds’ we may have printed it out of a computer and coloured it in with ink markers or something…I suppose they assume it’s fake.

Anyway, the man refused and I got annoyed and called the police, they explained that the man can refuse to take it and I said to the police person
“So if I walk out of this shop with the goods and leave him the ten pounds sterling, then I would be arrested for shoplifting?”

She said “Yes, if you take goods and don’t pay thats illegal”

I added, “But I am paying with sterling, so how can that be, he has my legal British money and I have goods”

She then told me “ Get off the line, I have better things to worry about”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Terrorism and bombs” she snapped at me.

“That’s better? Don’t you mean you have more important things to worry about? For someone who is English, you would think you would have a better grasp of your own language and grammar”

She hung up.

We walked out of the shop, I wasn’t going to give him any cash if he wouldn’t take my Scottish cash.

First night in London….
Next morning I was off to BBC to be part of Loose Ends, the lovable Ned Sherrin’s show. It was so awesome, I got to sit in a studio and listen to Courtney Pine and Roachford (two of the worlds best musicians) play just for me…well me and the other seven people in the room…oh and the millions who listen in ever week to Ned’s show.

By the way you can go to this link and listen to the show I was on.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/comedy/looseends.shtml

Then click ‘listen to latest edition’

Later on that night I was off to Battersea to be on stand by at Jongleurs comedy club, it means I sit around and see if an act fails to make it due to doubling up on other gigs, then I go on stage there or any one of the London Jongleurs and fill in. Its good fun and you get paid whether you gig or not!

This morning (Sunday, British ‘Sterling’ time) I awoke, knowing I did not have to work today, hurrah! Lazy day for me and my best mate Monica came round to see me, we had a good chat and then husband took our daughter to Heathrow as she goes home today.

I will miss her, but she really is a grumpy evil mare in the mornings, she turns into some awful snappy fire breathing dragon and poor husband always forgets that and will mistakenly ask her a simple question or make a silly remark as he passes her in the hallway as she stumbles about with her cloven hooves, clawed mitts and red slitty eyes that seem to be the norm if she is awoken before midday!

“Good morning happy girl” he smiles, forgetting she is possessed.

She turns her head, the hair flaps wildly, she opens her mouth and fiery evil flames come shooting out in his direction, I fully expect him to come back into the bedroom with blackened hair and singed eyebrows as the dragon child flaps her fleshy sharp backwings, draws in her blood sharpened claws and goes hobbling awkwardly on her stumpy hooves back into her room, leaving a trail of black smoke and burnt daddy in her wake.

I won’t miss that!

So we were all packed last night to go to London, just some small bits and bobs to go in last minute. I fell asleep knowing that I had to get up at 8am to have a shower and get ready for 10.30am flight from Glasgow to London.
I was in a lovely deep sleep, when my mobile registered two text messages at 5am! I stumbled out of bed and with bleary annoyed eyes I read them. Both were the same message from British Airways telling me that my flight had been CANCELLED!
I screamed! I had to get to London for midday as Ashley and I had to do a photo shoot and interview with the Sunday Times, I had work in London and meetings…fucking what do they mean cancelled????
Husband had been up all night and I ran into the living room hysterical yelling “BA has cancelled the flights!”
He jumped into action and got me the flight documents, I called at 5.07am and was greeted by an automated voice telling me the company doesn’t open till 6am…well who the fuck sent me the text then?
I sat and waited till 6am struck the clock and I promptly dialled up, EVENTUALLY I was put through to someone who told me the only way I would get to London today was to get to the airport NOW and be on the 7am flight as fog had backlogged most of the flights.
Daughter was dragged out of a sleep, husband began throwing stuff into the case, and Ashley was wandering about the hall in her pyjamas trying to find shoes with mascara’d stuck eyelashes and bewilderment.
Finally we were dressed and out the door into a cab at 6.20am!
At the airport we made the check in on time, we were ushered up to the Club Class lounge…finally we breathed and sat down. Then were told to quickly board the plane as the 7am flight was ready to go.
We found our seats, sat down and waited…and waited and the flight was so delayed it never actually took off until 10am! Yes three hours on a fucking domestic flight sat on a runway in Glasgow.
I thought I was going to take the pilot hostage and start killing the women and children first. Ashley…meanwhile, who HATES mornings, had turned into Myra Hydley/Ted Bundy/cloven hoofed spawn of the devil. She snapped and bitched, the crew had NO drinks on board, so I argued and argued until they let me off the plane that was NEVER going to move for 3 whole hours to go get some cold drinks.
The good news is, I spotted Gary who used to be a producer of comedy for BBC and now works for Endemol, sitting up the back. I went up to see him and after three minutes telling him what I am up to and stuff Ashley and I pitched our sketch show right there on the plane in front of a bunch of strangers, ok bored strangers. Gary responded well to our idea and we have a meeting arranged for next week! Never an opportunity wasted with eth Godley /Storrie girls.
We eventually got moving and soon London was near!
Finally after 5 hours of travel/non travel, we were back in the city of Westminster, back to the most luxurious flat for a Scottish girl this side of Sheena Easton!
I have to say, stepping into that under floor heated en suite marble bathroom was divine.
I love this place and have decided this is how I should live forever.
The stress was not over…not be a long chalk!
Part two tomorrow or later on as this is posted a day late.