Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

31 July - Beach & Besos

Off briefly to sunny Majorca where friends with lovely house await. And where one cynic with a soft heart may just be feeling happy enough to celebrate (in advance) a lovely anniversary. And to think he had a house full of women and he only 'saw' me. It's nice to hear things like 'You were by far the best of the bunch baby'. Aaahhh.... Love Island it is...

However, there will be precious little sea and sand this summer. Bummer! Lovely friends also awaited in Sardinia but what can you do? Maybe Sicily or Puglia in September, as 1 out of 2 people I meet these days is going or has just returned from Puglia. It was a boring sort of place last time I looked... but hey, things change fast in the world of sunday supplements.

However, a bunch of us will be going to see Krafterk in Krakow in September. Had to be done because of the (forced) alliteration and because despite the fact that they're 60 and they're probably a bit static and boring live, they're performing inside the steel works at Nowa Huta which is just ... grand. Am expecting it will be in some spectacular turbine style part of the steel works. Would be upset if it turns out to be just a hall nearby... mhh, could have found out before booking it all but I'd rather have the expectations!


I'm also thinking it's a neat conversation opener for when I eventually meet Mr L. Mittal (owner of Arcelor and Nowa Huta) as it's a small plan of mine to work in Mumbai in a few years and it's either going to be some TV thing or.. the richest man in India. Why not?

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30 July - Assaggi & Cows

We go to Assaggi, because we’ve never checked it before and someone I trust rates it better than Locatelli and Zafferano. It may well be better but the décor is a bit of a let down, it sort of looks like they did this room up 12 years ago when they opened and then, left it. Not only that, the ‘paintings’ on the walls are large frames of … Block colours, you know a blue panel, a grey panel, a green panel. I don’t know… They’re simply awful. If you want unobtrusive, then leave the walls bare. The tables don’t have tablecloths, which is fine by me, but then maybe change the tables when the grain gets blackened in the joints from cleaning them etc. Oh and get more attractive staff??? And lighting?

Yes I know it’s all about the food here but the food is great but not sublime. You can get this in various places in Italy and they don’t have a Michelin star. I appreciate it simply looks like a nice local restaurant and the way the staff greet the various diners, they must all be regulars. Maybe if you live nearby (sample house just sold by Harry Enfield for £12 million ) then £13 for a pasta and £20 for a seabass is fine (standard prices) but spending £70 each on simple food and a glass or two of wine at dinner is still a lot. The house wine was excellent, Sardinian. I ate at Sardo (the first one near Warren St) not long ago and it was similar food only not so feted a restaurant. Anyway, I will not bore you with exactly what we ate. I hate that and have some friends of the kind who will describe meals in detail. It always astonishes me that they remember them weeks after they’ve come back from holidays etc. I think jeez, you have space in your head for retaining that? Or do you have a secret notebook where you jot down the menus? Why? I prefer to remember the sex I’ve had after rather than the way the pudding tasted.

Anyway, amongst the American TV execs, Jewish lawyers & families, some Arab princes and their gals, a large table of Italians with shaggy football hair, four ladies who lunch (and dinner) and another couple or two,. were Samanth Morton with baby and an unattractive bearded boyfriend (in fact there was so little to give indication he was a boyfriend I thought at first he may be a male nanny) with Ian Holm and a younger woman/wife. Nothing to report except that SM is very ample indeed which is odd as she never looked that way in movies. And she’s always badly dressed. Even in a pretty frock and matching shoes, it was the wrong frock if you see what I mean.

We wondered if they may be in a forthcoming movie together and out bonding before filming? A spot of googling later reveals that, she’s practically family as she’s engaged and has a kid with one of Holm’s sons and the boyfriend is a video director I’ve never heard of ….. I feel bad because it also says that Samantha’s had a heart attack following having the ceiling in her bedroom fall on her a while back and breaking her legs. So er.. she’s done well to recover and have a kid in January so never mind not shedding the baby fat yet. The other surprising news is that the wife with Ian Holm is his 5th and she’s a former artist model. How do you manage that? Not bad for Bilbo Baggins (and King Lear).

We then went to the Cow for a drink and liked it much better there.

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Friday, July 25, 2008

29 July - Pirates & Prisoners

What’s going on? This getting old thing is worrying, the younger me would have never done such a thing: I passed on an after-show backstage opportunity to rub shoulders with Tim Robbins (never mind the assorted other musicians on the bill). I can’t say , nobody can say, they would get the same buzz out of talking/standing next to Suzanne Vega would they? How times erode any fame. When she was announced on stage, two (young) girls behind us said loudly ‘who’s she?’ And Martha Wainwright gets billed higher than SV, but MW never had a #1 that hung around for.. years… anyway, I digress.

I expect to be stuck to my seat at the opera for a few hours (in fact La Clemenza di Tito last week never felt that long, despite being very static as at the barbican, not staged with costumes and .. er.. décor) but the interval helps. This Rogue Gallery (songs of ships and sailing) started at 7.40 and by the time I got out (David Thomas had his place in Pere Ubu 30 yeas ago but his voice has to be the most irritating style ever) at 10.30, there was still half hour to go. Had to listen to it by the TV screens/all pervading Barbican hall hi fi, as we chatted to 2 other friends/escapees for a while. A lady with a running board/time showed us there were still 6 songs to go. But she didn’t know if Pete Docherty had turned up backstage. We said we didn’t much care for him in any case.

So we left just before 11pm having had to take the massive executive decision to forsake the backstage and yes, our names were down, I saw them, and at the Barbican it's pretty open once you're in their artists' area. Goodbye Tim Robbins. I mean, you’re Hollywood royalty. I’d have just liked to feel short and tiny next to your imposing frame. But quite why you were singing, remains a mystery, you were half decent but acting an Irish accent and quite enjoying the pirate bandana. Am sure your wife thinks it’s your midlife crisis, you know, axe grinding….

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27 July - La Musique est morte

What happens with music these days is strange. When it comes to classical for example, I don’t remember shit. I could listen to the same Bach over and over and every time it’s sort of new.

What happens with old pop/rock/any other modern genre, is that I never really want to go listen to something old, even if I have loved it at the time. Having dragged over from my house to boyfriend various containers of cds, I simply am not inspired to play anything. Hands up anyone who goes home and thinks, oh yes, Radiohead’s OK Computer, I fancy some of that. Didn’t think so.
So what I do is buy new music. Not an awful lot but I do, or borrow it. And I do listen to it. Especially at work where the discreet headphone is not easily spotted.

And some things I like, think they’re great in fact (Estelle’s album anyone? How fresh is that? Pretty damn marvellous), but then I take it home and it just sits there. Same with anything else like Duffy or The Zutons, or, or , or. And there’s lots I avoid buying because a few choice tracks have served to tell me I don’t need to hear more. And then there’s the stuff you catch in passing (some Culture Show featuring Metallica) where I actively thought oh my god it’s a dirge! It’s an old dirge! How could anyone still give these guys the time of day? Youtube has a lot to answer for. It may work in making people sample stuff and go buy it/download it but also has the reverse effect. Having spent about an hour watching paint dry (funny paint though) in the form of Dave Gahan in his home studio in NY or LA or wherever and heard snatches of what he’s working on, I can tell you that it’s hardly going to set my world alight and I’ll pass.

I think it can never happen just because of the music anymore, it has to be linked to the artist and some form of peer group belonging. Without the allegiance to oasis vs blur (not that I cared then, maybe clash vs other punks perhaps) and taken only and purely as music you hear, it just doesn’t push enough buttons to warrant repeat listening. Even when we’re in the car, we listen to the radio to at least have them supply variety and artists we don’t know. The dozens of cds kept in the car just bore us even if they’re recent. We just check this out for cultural reference, as we do with a show, a play, an exhibition.

Weird that. Nobody told me it would be like this….

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26 July - Chuck & Annabel

Only the other day we were saying - having started to read a discarded Saturday Independent - that we waste much time on papers and what do we really learn after reading all this puff on new books, movies, music, art etc. ? Not a lot. But… this morning was reading one such discarded paper I rescued last week and it featured an interview with Chuck Palahniuk. Now, I know Chuck, or rather, have read more than 2 books of his and will prob read the current one and had been to a reading and like everyone else saw the fight club and read the reviews. So you can say that the following biographical information must have already been known to me but it’s worth noting it down again.

His grandfather killed himself and his wife in front of the 3 year old Fred (ie. Chuck’s father).
Fred had (much later on) become keen on internet dates/meetings and one such woman (girlfriend) jealous ex boyfriend stalked and then killed Fred.

Jeesus! I can’t compete. No such tragedies in my life, hence, I write this kind of nonsense in my blog instead of inspiring tears, laugher, and above all revulsion or disgust, which is one of the ‘things’ Chuck aims to get you to feel because …. (er… where’s that paper again, I need the exact sentence, darn can’t locate it right now, you’ll have to wait).
ah yes, It's a function of trying to attract the kid of readers that would otherwise never pick up a book (ie, men) HEH? really, so if I put a picture of someone picking their nose on the cover, a man is more likely to buy the book?
or... 'Porn is the adult version of the fairytale. There's real comforting samenes to it blah blah etc...' HEH

All I remember is that I thought ‘HEH?’ Am sure that I can take this apart and say it’s really also nonsense but I have to go. And yes, in answer to my original question to myself, what have I really learnt by reading all of the above? Chuck’s new novel is based on the events surrounding Annabel Chong’s f uckathon (you know 70 guys in one video session, only Chuck’s gone large and in his book the protagonist fucks 700.

Interesting fact, a friend worked with an American cameraman recently on a docu and said cameraman was one of those on the Annabel Chong video. He was pretty revolted but it was a job. Or maybe he just had to say that…. Don’t know if she’s still alive but she was one sad person despite thinking it was all empowering stuff she was making.

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25 July- Tourists & Actors

Can I say how great it is to go to work in the summer when there’s NO KIDS on the buses!!!!
Shame about the tourist clogging up the centre though. Took 5 mins to go through a turnstile into Piccadilly circus one day recently at 7pm…. Sigh. It would be so simple, some kind of booklet in every language given out on arrival. Don’t fucking loiter in front of entrances, step away whilst you re-group, decide what to do etc etc. Ad nauseam. Maybe I can become a consultant and charge some tourist board/city of London lots of cash for educating tourists.

On an other note… I was caught short recently with coming up with names of actors I’d fancy. Was at a dinner and I truly think I mumbled Christopher Ecclestone and stopped there, Maybe Clive Owen came into it.

So here’s a few more I thought of:

Edward Norton
Christian Bale – liked him a long time and not seen any batman movie
They both look good with a little facial hair
Jared Leto (yep, good with a little facial hair too)
Linus Roache
Edward Burns
Dave Gahan. He's not an actor but he takes the piss and could well have done some dreadful part here and there, am sure it was offered to him... I think Johnny Depp nicked more than a few mannerisms from him...

Er.. what to make of this?

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24 July - Is it a month?

I think it's just over a month since the middle age spread has poked its ugly fat through my normally taut skin. So I colllared a gym instructor who's seen me at her cardio/tone classes for a good year at least.

I ask her if there's anything specific I should do, given that my musclees underneath the belly flesh are pretty solid. She says no, that my core is indeed strong (she can see me doing the stuff) and that it's just the way it is. Well, no it isn't. She's smiling and sympathetic, but I can't help thinking that being under 30 she simply doesn't know how awful this all is. She's also a size bigger than me (though super toned) so she probably thinks, as they all do 'What have you got to worry about, you're thin'. But it's all relative.

And anyone out there who wants me to shut up about this, get in touch, donate the necessary £££ and am off to the lipo pronto. Am prepared to overcome my revulsion. In the meantime I'll have to go buy those reprehensible tab style weeklies that feature non stop pics of famous people unguarded and looking awful. Just saw Uma Thurman on the cover of one and boy that was ... bad. But am not interested in feeling less bad because it's a common problem. If that worked, all anyone would need when feeling an ugly moment is to whip out a picture of Donatella Versace, or Meg Matthews, and just feel better (money never fixed her, and she must has spent some).

Oh well. I can see how if I did have money and time on my hands, any quack out there could mint me by making me try all sort of potions and lotions and surgery...

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22 July - Jetlag or Wine?

Out for dinner with friends (the main discovery here being that R. has been doing Thandie Newton's garden and she's a couple of doors down from Daniel Craig. R. refuses to have me as his gardener's help. Oh and his Hungarian grandfather once was given a medal by Hitler for fighting the Russians. Well, I never) and then to a little bar/club, home at 1am.

Toph keeps me awake (euphemism) for a further two hours. I'll leave out the details and though not a longer session than Stacey's and her american businessman, this one was comparable in terms of energy and 'effects'. So, am left wondering if jetlag has any positive effects on men's libido - this being two nights after Toph's return from US - or if it was the wine (my consumption had been 1 glass of rose' plus water and cranberry juice, whilst Toph's had been four large glasses of rose' and white wine, call that a bottle) or a combination of both. In theory wine should make you more sophorific but maybe that's just red? Suffice to say that in the old days I'd have been annoyed that Toph seemed very taken by the dance moves of a 30 something gorgeous dark haired woman with incredibly long hair, whereas now I appreciate that she was my wing woman and got him into supersexy mood. He doesn't often try to make me crash the car by reaching for my .....
I call these 'Shiva sessions' because the boy develops more arms and legs. I guess someone else may call them spider sessions but I like my indian imagery.

Another little conundrum is that earlier in the day I had used the powerplate to the max so now I'm not sure if my muscles hurt so bad because of sex or powerplate vibrations. Maybe both. Why do I need to know you may ask. Well it's because I like to keep some scientific data, to return to a year down the line and henceforth, because I'm alwasy charting what gets worse or what gets better about this ageing process shit.

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Tuesday, July 22, 2008

20 July - Latitude & Boredom

Instead of trying to write, it, am just going to paste here an email to a friend.

Hi, no, no rain there, or rather one huge but v. short downpour at 5ish just before Deus came on but at that point we were in their dressing room so not a drop on me.
Phones just didn’t work there, which was most annoying. It should just free you but you still keep trying to find whoever you said you'd hook up with. I never met up with D. in the end and her friends, though met with R. who works with me and was there with possee of similarly young (early 20’s) ozzie friends. Very sweet, they seemed happy to hang with me. Why? Who knows but I seemed to know everything they’d been to see so I must be cool.

The one person I’d have liked to see ie. ex major married lover of a decade ago or more, who lives nearby. I didn’t . I had gone backstage to wait for M. but she was out front to see Sea Sick Steve and there was C. with wife!!! Darn and double darn! I’d have so loved to meet him as wife described to me on this occasion as ‘dowdy’ and previously ‘hippy and you can tell she’s over 50 and has had two kids’, whilst vain moi was in fab summer dress, fetching hat AND gold wedgies which I managed to walk on all day despite er.. uneven terrain (had forgotten about that, thought it would be flat for some reason). The hat btw was an inspired choice, aside from the fact that I hate any sun on my face, it meant that geezers on the gate to backstage recognised me every time and just opened it. So would have just loved, loved to see ex lover again in these circumstances. But was not to be. I mean she won that war back then and I just cried for two years. Probably for the best. He wears a daliesque moustache these days and I'd have had to kill him. In the intervening years a few awful things seem to have befallen him, like son who’s had a nervous breakdown (was molested by teacher years ago?) and once run over mother accidentally whilst trying to ‘escape’ the house and she stood in his way. She was in hospital I think. Son now lives in a tree house. What would you say being that I’m not supposed to know and have clearly had no tragedies befall me yet? And if they do, well I’ve had a good run. But just as an aside, there was a time when he and I could have been in Calcutta and we'd just find each other a few paces apart, without any arrangement. We just gravitated. That pull no longer exists.

It seemed like a really nice festival, but when you’re only there for a day the 4 hour door to door drive there and back seems hardly worth it. Am sure D. will have had a fab time as went on Friday and returning Monday. Plus she loved the bands, like Sigur Ros which I am totally less than lukewarm about (flitted between them and the spawn of Led Zep Mars Volta just to have my opinion changed but alas no. Sad really as when they came off stage their horn section carried on playing in the dressing room and the girls in the string section were dancing, and had D. been there (fan!) she’d have just been in heaven. Or if I'd been a journalist, that would have provided plenty of colour for the piece. I and really didn’t care about the rest. The backstage was one of those with no atmosphere and bands in and out I think. I made no use of literary tents, comedy tents (apparently they were too full/couldn't easily get in anyway), other areas, I just didn’t have it in me. Just looking at the programme (the size of a novel) made me just hate this marketing overkill. Plus it’s like reading Time Out and only having a few hours to go see something and there’s a whole magazine worth. Makes you furious.

Our B&B was great but expensive, £50 each and these days you have to donate forcibly £20 if you get a guest ticket. Don’t mind too much but as my friend S. says, I’d like a choice as to where my money goes... Burgers and any food of course started at a fiver. Pimms was similar. There was some posh pizza stand. That was its name Posh Pizza, as in you know, you make it with truffle oil? Sea bass? What kind of shit idea is that to rip people off? Pizza is poor food and that's how it should stay.

Shame none of us had plans to spend Sunday that way as we were very close , like twenty mins prob. from great coast line in Suffolk, which god knows when I’ll go that way again. But wanted to come back for L.’s thing which started at 5pm in the end instead of 2ish so could have done. But got home to have reunion with BF before going out which was good.
Gave a lift to a band’s manager on the way and to two agent girls on way back. Nice people, didn’t know one. But we all agreed in 2 seconds flat to stop at a car boot in a field on way back so I gave us 20 mins to go find something and we did. Was most exciting interlude of 24 hours. That and my nice bed. So tired didn’t hear M. snore much. The best thing about the car boot was a van selling dog things and M. discovered that the prices she pays in Primrose hill/nNott hill for doggie treats, collars, bones, leads (her dog chews through one a week), toys are inflated by 80%. And sure I know that Mrs carboot is not paying exortionate shop rent, but still…. We bought so much stuff (R. has dogs too and so has my sister) , all this s hit for 80p, £ 1, £2, that’s costs so much more in posh London. We were like kids in sweet shop.

There was also a girl called M. I talked to (am trying to work out how many people I’d have talked to at a push) who is a dancer with Godlfrapp and got back to B&B at 7am and was back in London last night dancing on stage with the frapps at Lovebox in Victoria park. She’s 34? So not even that young to have that much energy. Didn’t appear to be on drugs but was Nordic. Er, maybe the drinks don’t kill them so much. Anyway, that was another sign.. I gave Lovebox a 5 second thought and then went ‘naaah’. Am sure she’d have sorted out a ticket.
Also met M’s friend married to lawyer for both sigur ros and…..coldplay (in fact chris martin godfather to their kids) but I don’t have much to say since I.. don’t care..

Festival was easy to get in and out. (well from guest car park at non rush hour times) Always a plus. And never felt crowded/hemmed in though was sold out so maybe they just keep the numbers down for that reason? Well 25,000 is nothing compared to Glastonbury, so you don’t trample children of which there were zillions? Guardian reader sort of festie? Sort of feels like a day out not really an opportunity to expand any boundaries.

But totally cannot get excited. In the car all I wanted to do was play Led Zeppelin as had bought 4 cd set for £15 (down from £50) in HMV previously. But was mindful of my poor passengers. My theory is that you only fall in love with bands when you’re young and stay in love with those. So no amount of fab new bands will ever get to you and if they’re Elbow, well, I had to run to the woods at that point so as not to hear that boring shit! It’s too depressing that that’s what people put at no. 1.

Next year I hereby solemnly vow to just say ‘no’.

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19 July - City Boy & Jimi Hendrix

So one night you go see young and hip artists and their hanger-ons (god, I’m a sort of Sadie Frost ...minus the kids, the famous ex husbands, the money, the fashion business, the house on the Hill, the young MTV/TV/musicians lovers… but we’re the same height I think) and the next you go see…. my first tribute band! Are You Experienced - who play Jimi Hendrix tunes.
Guess which one I enjoyed the most? Well the one that allowed me to play air guitar, shake my mane and generally kiss a few friends in town from their country pile. Shame I had to leave… am told that reprobates N. and S. spend the rest of the night out. But then they’re a couple of pirates and at the last look they didn’t have a job to go to in the morning.

Earlier had gone to Babs' garden thing in aid of something I didn’t quite understand, and met City Boy (Geraint Anderson) and his new g/friend (Noelle?). He’ s very into her, met at some festival off his head. He’s sooooo GAY! So elfin and un macho looking, he wears beads round his neck. What a disguise! Not decided what I think of him yet. No desire to read his book. I think it’s got to be 20% real and the rest the usual common city myths of drugs and share dealing and Jacuzzis with prozzies etc. I can’t possibly learn something I don’t already know though may be wittily written and fun, but in that case I should get on with Seb Horsley’s bio which is a witty line a paragraph. Forgot to say that had gone to his paperback launch and this was very entertaining indeed, he belongs to the stage. Though he was upstaged as the event was graced by the presence of mighty handsome Gavin Rossdale who seemed to know Seb’s girlfriend. This being before the weekend where he was getting apoplectic watching Federer loose at Wimbledon. Bless, Sebastian is very open about how much he wishes he’d been a rock god but it was not to be. Gavin instead must have fallen into it. Remember when nobody here bothered with Bush and the buggers went stateside and started shifting tons of records? We were stunned.

Anyway, where was I? Don’t begrudge City Boy cashing in from his silly column, but… when he described his forthcoming ‘charideee’ single I had to barf. Also met the docu director of Battyman (great premise, one day West Indians may grow out of gay bashing though I don't hold much hope) and a forthcoming docu on Hutch Hutchinson (lover or Edwina Mountbatten AND Cole Porter, wonder what common ground he found in them). Interesting. My very own docu director friend who had invited me, had to retire early as tired from filming but told me in the taxi that he had been wearing his whitest, bestest boxer shorts as was subconsciously hoping I’d take them off him. That was a good previous life…. He did dare me to feel his hard on on exiting the cab. And did I?

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18 July - Coco & Vince

Well, some of my friends wonder how I know about this and that, but I will notice some name in the press or other source and decide to check it out. Sometimes going to see a band takes hours and I wish I would check out a new novel instead in the same time span but for some reason crossing London to go to the Boogaloo in Archway seems like a good idea if you want to see Sting’s daughter, hot new best thing, before she becomes tabloid fodder. So disco granny D. comes with and we have to stand through two not so interesting acts until the flashbulbs pop for the lucky 17 year old. All long legs and daddy's bone structure.

She’s much better than appeared on her Myspace selection and doesn’t appear to have written any more songs than those 5. But they have charm, especially the one where she goes on about ‘My name is a Stain, my name is a St a-a-a-I-i-n’ and further says with some pique ‘Never mind my dad, hear my band’. Well, am sure she wishes she was born to a Shameless type family instead of the Stonehenge to Tuscany to the Caribbean lifestyle. Oh and the record deal, come just like that, cause she's nobody.
Teenagers heh? Of which there are many there, including half her school, bopping away.

But disco granny and I have just finished harping on about how badly these kids are dressed these days, no individuality, why do the kids just wear t shirts and jeans everyday and just look like they’re permanently about to get on a national express coach to a festival? Am not advocating a return to Steve Strange and Spandau Ballet idiocy but something a little more creative? When Noel Fielding aka Vince Noir runs on stage for his dj set and stands there, looks around and with mock dismay says ‘There aren’t enough outfits here!’

To which we say ‘yeah, right on’ a little too loud perhaps and draw attention to our own not very well thought out outfits for the night. Disco granny will appear the following day in the tabs photos from the gig but tastefully not in fine grain and hardly recognisable. Me, I’m behind some lanky 18 year old.

Vince, you’re my hero, more and more! Love ya.

Ps Carl Barat is a short arse.

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Wednesday, July 16, 2008

16 July - Maybe am a bloke

As this is what blokes do, they don't loiter in fashion shops but they do hang around music shops. There isn't a day I don't purchase something and i berate myself for doing so, I don't need anything for chrissakes. So in an attempt not to buy clothes/shoes/trinkets, I just head to HMV to buy something I definetly want, the new Leila Arab cd, on the Monday of its release.
Alas it's not in the racks, they haven't unpacked it yet. So I walk out with the latest Jamie Liddell (the boy at the till is impressed, we have a little exchange about my choice), some remastered 4 cd Led Zep down from £50 to £15, a book of Peter Cook & Dudley Moore sketches because it's £2 and maybe some will make me laugh, and a couple of other books to use as gifts but which will probably languish in my gift box, which is more correctly described as a gift trunk.

The bill comes to just over £40. Not bad on the impulse side. Took ten mins and all. This has got to stop but I don't know how...

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15 July - Mullahs & Free love

Rest? What rest? An evening in is not restful. I cooked, took my friend’s dog for a walk, used the Powerplate, had a bath, watched that programme on the Qu’ran recorded earlier when walking the dog and it was 2 hours long (and of course it made me mad by the time we got to the feudal Saudis and the mad mullahs in Iran with their totally regressive interpretations. Mad men.

Which incidentally is the second thing to make me mad in two days, after reading that utter tosh in Sunday Times about Ryan Spielman/Jamie Morgan and their wife swapping club under guise of boundary pushing private naked yoga sessions. Tosh! Men want to sleep around and sometimes they try and obtain your blessing by making up stupid cults. And their women just cry over it or sleep around too in order to claw some power back and feel less consumed by jealousy. Am speechless…but I could go on being that a friend of mine went out with a wanker who also was part of this little ‘sharing group’ and he came up with really bad stuff towards her. Anyway, I digress. When the Qu’ran finished I noticed my friend had recorded Tribal Wives and watched a bit of that, just to remind myself of how hard some people have it (with or without religion making it worse) so it was nearly 1am before I went to bed. So in short, staying in is more knackering than going out!

Monday, July 14, 2008

14 July - Bastille Day ... somewhere else

This is a great week. Am going to go to bed early-sh tonight with a book because I was out late for dinner last night with some friends in town from Rome and I have too much ahead. Plus the BF who’s off till Saturday clearly wanted to mark his territory and gave me the best wake up call, though it's still me who gets up first to make a cup of tea. Either that or he heard me last week when I said apropos nothing ‘If it gets to below twice in a week, it’s danger territory, I will not have it, I want more.'

So, how exciting (already top) trannie Johnny Woo tomorrow, followed possibly by a visit to Parkin' Lot across the ages club, The Zutons at Somerset house on Wednesday where I’ll see after about 8 years an old work colleague who could always make me laugh despite being a German, then Coco Sumner (have to see the hype for myself) and Mighty Boosh on Thursday, some party/launch on Friday with favourite ex now residing in Ireland, and Latitude festival on Saturday where I might bump into favourite lover of the previous decade who happens to live in Suffolk. And a swift return on Sunday to join L’s b’day in Hyde Park. A Lisa week as my friends would say. Oh no no, that would be if I had 2 events per night minimum. I wonder what it must be like to be Paris Hilton. She tells us she gets paid for turning up which I don't.

All this and the BF is abroad, probably feeling similarly young free and single, only he has to work and I don’t. Summer’s here.. maybe? Finally?

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13 July - Convents 'R Us

We arrived at the priory of our lady! And it’s still light and we’re delighted by the view. It’ a large Georgian house with a sort of 70’s Nordic looking convent attaché, all functional wooden beams and low buildings, but it may as well have been a university mini campus or any of those places that contain people in a small room each and gathering in a larger one to eat, read, pray, do laundry oh and meditate whilst staring ahead to the large grounds, the bridle path, the duck pond, the deer, the herb garden and so on.

During the tour Toph tries the organ in the chapel, he can’t play but makes pretty sounds by holding the notes for a while. I’m tempted by the bells but it could be mistaken by an SOS and it’s best not to attract attention. I skip around spotting locations for porn video filming but that would get my friend (one of the guardians of the property) in trouble. There is however much banter on our part about nuns and their habits etc. D. is a ex convent girl which is probably why she sports lovely little tattoos on her ankles…the rebel! And pretty young homeopath L. has come out for the w/end too and she’s always a laugh in these matters.

The remaining few old nuns who have been re-housed recently - and how sad that every bathroom and shower cubicle has those elderly adjustable seats... very sobering old age - have however left the library behind! Maybe now they read their books on computer? There’s shelves of books on the lives of St Theresa and St Francis and so on, many in French and German but also DH Lawrence and a few other surely more suspicious and possibly forbidden texts! We’re all tempted to purloin a few but… leave them for now. We will be back. Am sure the new owners (planning a school for children with disabilities) will not need this kind of library.

We have drink and end up discussing knife crime (this year’s paedophile headlines? Remember how the tabs were all about paedos and before then football hooligans and before then.. whatever becomes the sole thing they can write about) and then go to bed in our little cell where D. has pushed together two single beds for us ahhhh… Wish could wake up and discover we’re in at top spa! It’s been a long day what with starting off at 8 to go to the wedding.

I wake up and Toph says in my ear ‘Mmmhh my little nun’ and he’s got a raging hard on. Somewhere in the night, my talk of misbehaving brides of Christ has given him some ideas. That’s extra good! Especially as D. had told us that with so many cells to chose from she’d put us all alone in a wing, determined as she was that sex would take place on the premises. Maybe it already had, builders have been here after all and a few local kids, but hey… she likes it this way. Clearly, my fat stomach is only a problem to myself for now. ‘Mmmhh, my visiting excellency the cardinal from Rome’ Here we go.

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12 July - Etiquette & Boats

Pretty wedding in pretty church in sunny village in Sussex.

I have gaged it right, sort of second wedding for both with children on each side and grown ups so no chance of anyone going overboard with outfits and mine is just right (Ghost dress, Bluemarine cardi, nice heels and vintage sparkly small bag, pearls) when I begin to spot the underdressed. Some men appear not to own a jacket .. and it’s not that hot. Then again the groom is rock n roll style in open neck white shirt no tie. Had met him once previously and found him very handsome and had instantly earmarked him for display to a few girlfriends (not able to offer myself as friend of Toph) only to find out he’d just started dating today’s bride. Wife is ex wife of famous comedian said to have led even Courtney Love astray… She’s altogether more wholesome in slinky red silk. (teaches yoga amongst other things) and has decided nothing can be done re the old bitten nails. Maybe you can’t do repair falsies or maybe she wants to keep it real. Then I see the young man in bleached and somewhat ripped jeans and the woman in a prom dress. Well, there is dancing later. But for now she should cover her shoulders with a shawl. I know most people have no idea of the dress code in a church but there is one, should they bother to just ask. But at some point this woman comes in with a Fitness First rucksack and flip flops. The outrage! Maybe she’s camping. I also have to remind a friend of my BF, the only other person here I’ve met before apart from the groom, that whilst in church you remove your hat. A straw one from TK Maxx he informs me. Since when do hetero men talk about where they bought stuff? Am too far away in my pew from the man in a flatcap to tell him to remove it.

Straw hat man is the closest I’ve ever met to a Hobbit. He’s shorter than me almost (and I’m Kylie in case I hadn’t mentioned) and has a ruddy hirsute ginger blonde head and beard. He’s Welsh and he’s funny and not shy to hit on anyone, which accounts for the 4 kids with 4 different women one of whom Is a tall Russian ballerina. I can’t quite imaging the couple but hey. Well, it could just be carelesness on both sides.. The BF says ‘Watch him, he’ll have a shag sorted out for later in no time’.

I’ll skip boring you with the lunch. We’re on the table with the single mothers and the singles (the 3 women are all yoga teachers, one is ex tv commissioning editor who found it too cut throat of course). Well, we can converse yoga so all goes well Shame the only interesting guest at our table, Mr Don Letts, failed to turn up. He would have made them all happier that Toph who’s friendly and earnest but clearly attached to moi.

After the lunch by the river, there are boats for rent available to the guests. I decide against a trip and just sit and watch them come and go. We didn’t see Hobbit leave but he’s predictably the last boat to return. And yes, it’s him and …4 women. One is a teenager. Dear god! But, wait. They are all in their knickers and pants and have wet hair, of course, they jumped in! His thin froggy legs are a sight but they seem happy, he’s ecstatic in fact. The two older women parade around in their underwear and a shawl in one case but she keeps it on her shoulders, not wrapped sarong style oh no. Why do that when you can be naked at a wedding reception? Maybe this is what Kate Moss and her primrose hill friends would do?

A little later I come across them indoors at the bar. Still undressed. I naturally exclaim ‘Oh, you’re still naked!’ and the younger, blonde, says ‘Am waiting for my underwear to dry off’. I reply ‘Well you could put your dress back on (she’s clutching it) and take your knickers off to dry them, in fact you could hang them on a chair’. But she’s on the Baileys and pays me no attention. I must look like old Auntie Edwina to her rock n roll dirty blonde loucheness. A little later they’re outside, Hobbit is hovering but they’re too busy being new bezzie mates and talking about Ibiza. I see the dynamic now, the older one is well ugly and .. older, but by making friend with dirty blonde who’s a bit more of a babe, new potential avenues of fun could open up for her. Ah well, one more to chalk up to my list of drunken yoga teachers. They’re all the same. Like manic depressives they do the holy and purges and then they do the drink. Excessively

I don’t hold much hope for Hobbit now that the half naked women are attracting other attention, but wait, a coach draws up bringing the intake of evening guests! Fresh meat for Hobbit, there’s quite a few women he can dive into now. I wonder if I should warn anyone that he has powerful sperm? In fact, that’s probably in short supply, what with reading that a few cups of coffee a day reduce male infertility and the donors having disappeared from clinics due that law that says that x amount of years later the kid can come looking for you. And there’s scarce competition being that the bride has more girlfriends, naturally, than men. Men on the whole are scarce in the yoga world.

We make an exit before the evening music kicks off. We’re off to stay at a former convent nearby. How delicious. I wonder if they left a habit or two behind for dressig up fun. But that’s another story.

9 July - I want what she's having... yes! yes! yes!!

As you know, I've become somewhat reticent to describe fun and games in the sexual arena. Modestly prevents me from giving extensive details of sessions starring Toph because, well, it could all come back to bite me on the ass. As for details of other sessions, I have to recall them first as life has become unexpectedly monogamous for a long time now. Sigh....

However, hurrah for my girlfriends and S. in particular who's free and single and though not doing very well on the young 'un sites (cougar anyone?) because they're all mouth and no trousers and fail to keep appointments or have not ignited her flame (she's met one who's 25 and is wanting to sleep with a 60 year old. Yes I know, that would be Marianne Faithfull or Meryl Streep but ... yeuwww!), she's doing well with her older ones. Well, not that old. She met one this week who's here for work and they'd alredy met a year ago so she knew what to expect. It sounded like first night went very well, so I asked her to send me a blow by blow account and she took me very literally. Here you go. Enjoy by proxy, as I'm doing.

In the style of Big Brother, as per Lisa’s request....
This is the story of Stacey (tee hee) & Stan, aka ‘Stan the Man’


12:00 I leave home, bag packed for the week, expecting to be pulled to One Aldwych several nights this week by New York based (exceptionally) casual lover.
13:00 Arrive Soho, plan to wander ‘til 16:00 when we agreed we’d meet
14:00 Receive text : ‘I got here early. Come to the hotel.’
14:01 I reply: I’m busy, I’ll be there by 3:30pm’. I continue my wander
15:30 We meet in the lobby. He is bearing the gifts I insisted he bring (‘bring me my fave chocolates or don’t bother turning up’)
15:35 We head out into the bright sunshine. The plan for the day was in two distinct portions, as per his last email to me :
Portion #1 : the cultural portion. A museum of some sorts
Portion #2 : the sha gging each other senseless portion.
I liked the plan, I have to say
15:40 We enter Somerset House. I plan to give him a tour, possibly ending with a glass of wine at the River Terrace, but definitely including the current Cezanne exhibition, which I was exceptionally keen to check out
15:41 There is a concert this evening, so the courtyard is sadly cordoned off. We go into Cezanne. He pays. Such a gentleman.
15:50 We’re enjoying all the paintings, and the permanent collection. He stops at a painting of a semi-nude redheaded woman and raises an eyebrow at me. I giggle.
16:05 He’s clearly keen to go, mumbling something about it being a nice day so let’s have a picnic.
16:10 We leave. Short but sweet, his arm rubbing my back often throughout our wee wander. Nice touch.
16:12 I have spent the past 2 minutes pondering the picnic option and have hit upon the idea of popping into the Tesco a few steps away, and getting a cold bottle of champagne, and going into Embankment Gardens to drink it . A liquid picnic, if you will.
16:13 He takes my hand and now it's his turn to giggle. ‘Um, no, what I was thinking is that we take ourselves back to my suite’.
16:13 Aha, I think . OK then.... He admits that he had hoped he could hold out ‘til past dinner time, but realised he can’t. We’d not seen each other since last August, but then again that was a one-night only job so... I had no idea he’d remember the session so well. I remembered it well as I’d split up with another lover in late May and was convinced I’d never again find a man who enjoyed going down on a woman so much ... I was happily proved wrong by Stan.
16:20 We’re back at One Aldwych, less than an hour after we left it
16:21 He offers me a drink, and after I take two sips of water, he’s all over me. Damn, I think, he’s rather keen
16:40 We’re still at the semi-dressed stage. I recall that he does like his fore play, does Stan the Man
17:00 Finally the clothes come off in full... loving that almost 45 minutes of just.. fumbling and kissing... like you did in high school. He gets full marks for getting a gal good ‘n’ ready for the ensuing fun.
17:01 The first round of him going down on me... the man redefines the word ‘teasing’. Brings me to orgasm # 1 without even being inside of me. Genius.
18:00 We finally have sex. Yes this is easily a full hour after we started to play. We’ve spent the hour going down on each other – separately, at the same time (Americans just ‘get’ that whole ‘69’ position in a way that my European lovers just.. haven’t. Such a shame. Their loss. Such fun). Stan is also big on spa nking... not so hard that the next morning your bum is red, but just regular unexpected casual sp anks... and one of Stan’s ki nks is that he doesn’t just spank on your bu m cheeks. Oh no... he has a few tricks up his sleeve...
18:15 Done, sh ag #1, we’ve both been so built up (and I’ve had several orgasms by this point), that he comes super quickly... I can’t recall if he’s married or not (I think he is), but as Charlotte from SATC would say, I do believe his wife is not an ‘up the bu tt’ kind of girl. Me, I have a lover in my life who has treated me to the wonders of this position (this was before Stan). When Stan finally realises he’s got the green light to ‘go there’, he’s a bit too enthusiastic, so I have to remind him to take it slooooowly, and it will be worth his while . And it was!
18:30 I’m frisky again .I know, I know. But I am. He’s a creative lover and he’s only in town a few days so...
18:45 He’s hard again. Woo hoo! He’s 38.. there is a lot to be said for the under-40 lover. A past lover (he likes to think he’s still current but he’s all talk and no action, so... I give up) – anyway, he’s super senior at a super posh bank in the City and will turn 52 next month.. and he needs a little blue pill to , ahem, stir him into action. I did read something the other week about how if you haven’t had s ex in ages – if you’re older – men do generally need the little blue pill to get things moving. He is in an utterly se xless marriage so the mind boggles... Truly, I do wonder why people stay in se xless marriages. ‘Doing it for the kids’... .yawn fu cking yawn yawn yawn. They will know their parents aren’t happy . I left my marriage when the s ex dried up . Clearly it’s linked to other things going on in the relationship, but surely it’s the final death knell? If you realise you have no desire to get na ked with someone.. how can you continue? I’m sick of the martyrs in my life who are doing it for the kids . I’m a classic case of a child of parents who really SHOULD have gotten divorced, they so clearly were miserable.

How did I go off on that tangent?

Ah, the older man versus younger man.

Younger men ROCK.

19:00 On all fours, and Stan just enjoying the view, teasing, playing with himself, playing with me, murmuring all sorts of nice things about my ass and body. I think once you get naked with a guy, women forget that generally guys are so happy to be there, they don’t mind if you’re carrying a few extra pounds . Enthusiasm + extra pounds = much better than faking it/boredom + washboard abs. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

19:20 More sha gging, finally stopping shortly afterwards
19:30 Stan is lying next to me, quietly panting... then admits : ‘I’m hungry, can we go out now to get food?’

19:45 We’re off, quite ravenous at this point. Dinner at Belgo in Covent Garden, dessert/wine/coffee on Frith Street afterwards, soaking up the evening warmth. His treat, all of it, and I'm reminded how I loathe men who don't treat their women. I'm all in favour of going Dutch or picking up the tab from time to time. But if a guy really wants to score points : buy your date dinner . Show you're not counting the pennies. Even if you are. One thing I adore about my ex husband is that .. he's always broke. Always .More often than not. Yet when we go out - he always pays. When he sees something he thinks I will like - he buys it for me. The most broke man I know, yet the most generous. Go figure. I say again : I loathe men who never treat their women. Being with someone who always insists on splitting the cheque or who never subtly grabs the bill when it comes with one swift move and puts his card down... ugh. Soul-destroying. Sooooo not a good look on a man.

I digress. Again.

22:00 Stan and I return to the suite. He’s very jet-lagged, he admits, and asks me if we can ‘just kind of hang around’. I say sure, but does he mind if I get na ked first? Oddly enough, he doesn’t mind. I’m thinking we’ll watch a movie, and just chill and maybe have a last mellow sort of shag before the end of the night.
22:02 Um, nope . As soon as I’m n aked, he jumps on me. In the midst of kissing, he says ‘well, I THOUGHT I wanted to just hang around’
22:05 As we’re kissing, he asks me if I’ve ever been blindfolded during sex. I say no but that I’m game for most things. We don’t have anything to use but he pushes a pillow over my eyes and I lay there on my back.
22:07 Oh my. Combination of him going down on me very lightly, then sticking various fingers into every hole possible, interspersed with lots of sp anking of various things.. and pinching of nipples. Again he makes me come without penetrating me. The guy has skill....
22:45 I’m panting, after having had 2 more orgasms. He finishes up by coming all over my breasts. Fabulous.
23:15 I’m raring to go again, so we do. Short but... intense. Him on top of me, my legs together, him pushing my legs back over my head.
23:45 The light goes out. I tell him : ‘remember, if you wake up in the night with a raging hard - on, please do wake me up’
01:30 I can’t sleep. He’s snoring (I remember one of the joys of sleeping on my own... men do snore...). And my mind is racing... so I wake him up by going down on him. He’s hard within seconds (or so it feels like), and this session is more me going down on him and him playing with me – not full s ex. This one ends up with him coming over and inside my mouth, lots of mess, lots of fun.
02:00 (I am guessing here at the time now) . I crash out to sleep. Sleep fitfully, mind still racing, but happy of the org asms nonetheless.
07:00 Alarm goes off, he hops in the shower, off to work . Me thinking : da mn, I could have done with a morning sh ag. I am guessing he realised it wouldn’t be a short one (though I would have happily had a quickie – he doesn’t know me well enough .Yet)... and he had to be in St Paul’s early.)
08:00 I’m showered and ready to go (how on earth I can shower and put lipstick on and be ready in literally a third the time that it took him to shower and shave... I’ll never know. I don’t believe men who say women take longer getting ready. Utter bo llocks._
08:05 We part on Aldwych.. he is around and about this week. I’ve no idea if I’ll see him again. I think I will but if not... I certainly had a good time!! I saw this in the paper today and it struck me . Reminded me of my fave lover of all time – aka Mr Alameda – whom I loved and lost and... still love with all my heart. It’s from Isabel Allende, who wrote the play ‘Zorro’, with music by those crazy Gipsy Kings.. I am going to the premier tomorrow. I so believe in that chemical reaction... even if we are never together again I will believe in this reaction, and that it created a bond with us... forever :


Love at first sight has happened to me - with my husband Willie and with a few lovers. I think it is a chemical reaction, something to do with lust and sex. I have a pathological imagination. I see a guy who is available, and it is like I see a Christmas tree with no ornaments on it. I then add all these ornaments and he becomes this wonderful Christmas tree. It takes me five minutes to dress him up. Every man is a project to me. Willie was a huge project. He wore snake boots! His life was a total mess, and I had to remodel the entire thing.


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6 July - Nassau & Home alone

S. rings from Nassau where he spends considerable time getting a new business off the ground.

He tells me he's house-sitting for his business partner and that he has a huge, fabulous villa at his disposal but he's alone in it (and noticing the time difference I realise he's rung me when just awake and possibly with a boner, in fact am certain of it). I ask him to send photos and he does, they're breathtaking. I write him, can't you get a local lass? He says he can't really do it anymore with the locals (has, previously) because it's like a small village out there and everyone knows everyone and he' s probably tainted already and he's meant to be above these sort of things. I tell him there must be plenty of passing tourists for him to prey on and he replies they're mostly american and are stupid (apologies to american readers, his words not mine) and he doesn't want to go there. Am sure he's generalising but still, even a passing tourist could become troublesome. What a predicament to be in. Wish I had not a care in the world and I'd just go join him. There are so many rooms and surfaces to cover... judging by the photos. So I tease him and tell him I could bring a couple of girlfriends. Am being cruel. Ha ha! And then I sign off.

I write to S. and forward the photos and tell her. She replies: I love it that he can make you feel like a schoolgirl. We love men like that, don't we? I remember both this vacation and last one, being in my room and being on the phone to Mr Alameda and giggling and shortly afterwards going into the living room and my mom saying both times - 'gee I wish I had a friend like that, someone who could make me laugh and giggle like that'. Alameda is that for me. I become a 16 year old girl with a crush.

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4th July - The Rake

I went to see the dress rehearsal of The Rake’s Progress at ROH courtesy of a (new) acquaintance, BL, a former actress in Spanish sitcoms (by way of a friend who’s her new beau) who’s assistant to the director, Robert Lepage (you must know who he is surely? They don’t come bigger than him) . And isn’t it funny that I only know one other opera person and when I texted her to tell her I was with BL, she texted back ‘I know her, I was singing with her (ex) boyfriend when they first met’. How many degrees is this one?

The Rake was well impressive, but it’s Stravinsky so no melodies stick.. but mad set up, very good/entertaining, beautifully sang and Toph filled me in on how revered the conductor, Thomas Ades, is… himself a fan /collaborator of Simon Rattle.

The following night we went to BL’s housewarming party, since she’s moved out of the ex’s. This was in a small flat (but belongs to Fiona Shaw – am I namedropping enough for one post?). It was a regular little party with about a dozen people when we arrived and twenty at the most throughout the couple of hours we were there. Mostly chatting to our friend who was feeling a little fragile as the girl had invited her ex (well known tenor) and though it was clear he wouldn’t turn up (the split is fresh) it made him a bit nervous. So I get introduced to this guy, Charlie, short, American accent… A few minutes later Toph says ‘Don’t you recognise him?’ and I said ‘Oh god it’s him, it’s the tenor from last night!!’ But in jeans and a jacket he looks like anyone. Anyway I had to give him a hug by way that I’d never met a tenor, only pop musicians, and was mighty impressed. Turns out it took him a mere 3 weeks to learn his part. Incredible. But the best bit was that we were dancing around to an ipod and the Bee Gees came on and Charlie was singing along with us, to Staying Alive. In a high pitched voice of course. And he quite liked his James Brown and Prince.

Then he told me to close the door to the garden as he was worried about his throat ( premiere was last night), and that he more or less knows what his diary is like for the next five years (except force majeure), which to me is extraordinary.

Soooo a little later Thomas Ades comes in, and then Robert Lepage himself, in a leather jacket, possibly sporting a wig. Mad! God knows who the others were, but looked all like classical musicians…I was tempted to go talk to them but it was one of those ones where the others there could probably really do with the one to one access to their gods and any exchanges would have been sort of lost if they had to talk to me. Yes, am aware of my pecking order and in that world I’m less than an amateur spectator.

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Thursday, July 03, 2008

3 July - It's not true that age is only a number

God the loneliness of it all! (see 25 June for a timeline of this new obsession). Seems that besides my best friend, 46 year old C. who’s sadly situated by way of marriage in another country and so is not available for daily misery exchanges, I will have to face this ageing drama alone. C. says that where she lives, they’re all in denial and go anorexic to counteract any effects of the drop in oestrogen levels. That’s too drastic for me. But at least she sympathises as says she looks six months preganant. Me, am about three I'd say.

My youthful slim 51 year old London friend R. rang to say that she’s still having her periods and so has not experienced my fat stomach symptoms yet. Ah, the injustice, the lottery! And my 56 year old friend R. is clearly over whatever it is that happens and cracks jokes about the size of her girth. And my 43 year old friend L. said that it’s typical of my ayurvedic type to kick against the passage of time when I’d do best to just accept it. And my 41 year old friend D. said she’s no idea what am talking about but as she’s on anti-depressants she’s gone up a size already.. My 48 year old friend D. keeps drinking wine and not facing the bulge increase. My 49 year old friend P. just writes back ‘You’re beautiful and you’ll always be’ But I don’t believe her. My 42 year old friend M cheerfully says she's had a fat stomach all her life and so will be unconcerned. I could go on.

I’ve cut out the alcohol, as first source of sugars that can go but it’s hard because am surrounded by people who like a drink and I’m out all the time and can’t keep drinking water. I’ll have to pretend to be AA to make it stick.

The internet is full of what to do when you’ll have full on symptoms and can go on HRT but I don’t have any of those yet, only the fattening. Well, am not laughing. It’s like having puberty again. Remember those feelings of ugliness just because you had spots or sweaty glands? Those thoughts that run on a mono rail thinking thing, you know just the same one practically over and over? Well it’s like that. I just think all day long ‘oh my god am getting fat for no reason other than my ovaries have dried up and all the plump from my face, my tits is just going to deposit itself on my tum and my thighs’. I feel like I have fat legs just sitting on a chair. I feel the flesh spread out on the chair seat. I keep holding my thighs in my hands and just feel the fat oozing. This has to stop. I go for a jog on the treadmill and I practically see a duck in the mirror waddling about where my body should be. This distortion is taking hold. And to top it all I can’t do a mile in ten minutes, I might as well be walking. Not that I was ever much faster than that though. Nobody understands as they all say you look the same to me. Except Toph who can’t argue when I show him my protruding belly. It’s freaking me out like some bad trip. And I never did those.. (or one …)

If that wasn’t enough am getting up every day and the skin round my eyes is sort of sore, like it was thinning. This is bizarre. And I’ve never needed concealer in my life and now have these age spots forming right there underneath, where they look like dark circles. There’s a few beginning to emerge and if they join up all together it will look like I’ve been punched. None on the top of my hands though. Darn, I’d rather have them there, that’s more normal.

Ah the rage! Maybe some hypnotherapist can make me visualise something else other than old crone approaching?

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Wednesday, July 02, 2008

1 July - PR girlie life

Clearly am not the only one amongst my 40 something/plus friends who wishes we were still living it up at 25.

Got this from a girlfriend yesterday:

Went to gym this morning and then met for coffee with cute little H. The life of super cute 25 year old PR gal and assistant to famous female singer from way out cardiff way. Unreal. A highlight : Saturday night she ran the door for famous club GP (she was one of the dancers for ages). She went with a friend . They left at .... 4am. Went to Hoxton Hotel for a drink with a guy she'd had date #2 with a few days earlier. They left at 6am, went back to flat she was staying at in... Blackwall. Had se x.

Then at midday she met with a friend in Hyde Park and spent all day there, and night seeing the Police. Home at 12am. At least she said 'you should have seen me on Monday'. Thankfully, it did catch up with her. But still! Crazy H. The previous 3nights she'd had : dinner at Nobu with someone who owns a posh hotel in New York, date #2 with the boy she saw at Hoxton Hotel, and... something else, ah yes, drink with some billionaire Chelsea bloke.


Followed by this today:

Cute PR girl H had dinner with Hugh Grant last night!

I asked how that came about and it's becaues she was out which Chelsea billionaire/bloke who obviously knows Hugh. Darn. Maybe I should have thought that PR was good route into a number of interesting encounters, but more than that, I'm jealous of the stamina. I remember those all nighters and then straight to work and you didn't look like complete shit.... ah wistful me.

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29 June - Young ones

I don't know what they think, all these SW3 rich kids going festivals where they can now rent expensive wigwams and strut about in heels, but even my favourite Kensington young one who probably tented it with the multitude, appered to be back from Glasto early on Sunday… He sort of had been there done that. These people are lightweights! I wouldn't want them on my side in any war...

28 June - Radiohead & Sobriety

Radiohead in Victoria park. 1 hour then am off, having been unable to get rid of second ticket. They’re not mine in the first place but friend who gave them to me and was meant to come with is stuck in a meeting about some other mega band about to return to the scene. I ring 2 people who like the band, but both are close to home at 7.30 and unwilling to come back out. It's bloody Hackeny after all. A third friend who likes the band is already going. Toph says ‘not my thing’. Am sure I could ring more people but then I’d have to make arrangements to meet etc and I can’t be arsed.

I sell the ticket for £20 and buy drinks and chips. Ludicrous prices. I know Radiohead are not responsible but perhaps is a t-shirt is £20 then a bag of chips can be £3. Never mind. I leave after an hour when the sky is still light because I have to go see a friend in town from Toronto. This means I don’t get to see a full light show, but I doubt even with that that the show would have involved me more. They sound fantastically clear and crisp but I hardly ever 'get' gigs these days. It’s hard to get into them. Even if I’d been a #1 fan by now I’d be bored. I suffer too much from 'been there, done that, next'.

So by 10.15pm I get to meet M. at the bar of her hotel and she looks pretty darn good. Not seen her in over 7 years since I went over for her wedding in Toronto, where she'd moved a year or two previously. Turns out she’s been AA for 18 months and has met new partner at the meetings. He runs a bar! Must be hard. Previous husband who was a major beer drinker, has now gone to be a forestry person in Alberta and is also sober and withe new partner. I’m not sure why she drank as much as she says she did, we sort of gloss over the reason, but it was obviously bad enough to go to meetings and cut it out completely. She’s now going to eventually cut out the smoking (which is the first thing I noticed after the fruit juice, menthols are the 'am cutting down' option. Funny that.. We don’t communicate that often but she does well workwise, bought a brownstone in the centre of town, and it just never occurred to me she’d have a problem. We did talk about it for quite a while, I guess there’s a lot of hoping one would be supporting when this kind of info is revealed. Bless. Two hours go past and it's half past midnight on a weekday and I have to go and she has a flight to catch. Wish there was some teloporting for real, would be nice to just make a plan to go for breakfast on saturday instead of knowing it could be another few years before we meet again. sigh....

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26 June - Preg & pry & pray

You know when you're an old cynic when a man tells you this story and it so doesn't surprise you.

So, T. has an old friend he used to work with, a beautiful girl he feels very sorry for because she's developed MS and can't really work anymore. He meets with her once in a while and when he met her last she told him she was unhappy because she got pregnant and her relationship with her boyfriend had been shaky for a while and he said he didn't want the child. Which I thought was fair enough given her circumstances and the fact he's probably not left her yet out of some sense of duty. But T. is all incensed and reckons if you really don't want a child, then you use a condom as otherwise the possibility is pretty real. Uhm.


So he got a call the other day from girl with MS and pregnant with child unwanted by partner and she told him she'd found he's on some dating website and has been seeing this other woman. Which is pretty devastating news. Bloke is away working/filming somewhere and something made her look/find the evidence of his betrayal.

T. is more outraged than he was before. I simply view it much more matter of factly. This guy is with a sick person he no longer loves, told her doesn't want a child and is very likely going to walk and in the meantime he's just sorting out his next life whilst she, having had reason to feel rejected several times, still hangs on to a relationship that's run its course. I find myself saying 'Eveyone is on the internet meeting people they're not married or going out with.. Why do you think it's so popular, what do you think people do for hours on it?' I have to stop there short of giving him several examples fresh from various friends' lives. He's so green.

T. is still upset on her behalf. I sense he wishes he could go to the rescue. I come across as some unfeeling bad person, but I simply view people with disabilities who insist on having kids as selfish. Call me uber-selfish, but why bring a baby into your world if you're unlikely to be able to look after it and someone else will have to do the job for/with you? I hope she's got faith and knows how to pray.

25 June - Age & Spread

Jesus, don't know if the two things have anything to do with each other but isn't is strange that having had to halt exercise for the hand surgery, my body has decided to start showing me weight gaining all of a sudden? I mean, I am sedentary, but I still walk. However, if this is simply that age thing that's meant to happen when your peiods stop, and by doing exactly the same as you ever did, eating the same etc, you start to put on a couple of pounds a year around your waist, then clearly my life as I know it is over, I will get depressed about it, I'll feel like shit and I'll be a pain in the ass moaning about it endlessly?

What to do? L. says I should just accept it as it's going to happen eventually to all. But I say no no no. Over my dead body, though without recourse to the paraphernalia available to the rich, it will mean starvation till the bloody hormones heed! And that won't be much fun either. Step one, out with any alcohol. step two, get the juicer out. Fine till then, but step 3 (more exercise) step 4, no chocolate and the like, step 5, fasting 1 day a week, is just too depressing. L. says 'but you look nice a lilttle cuddlier!. Fuck! it's only been a week and she thinks I've gone cuddlier? This is so not on!

Later on I run into 51 year old R. and don't initially recognise her as she'd dyed her already short hair into an agyness dean/pixie geldof peroxided crop. She makes me feel not all is lost as she's a paragon of youtuful slimness. But she could of course not be quite on the other side of the menopause yet, having had 3 children, maybe it hits one later? Can't ask but she reads this I think, so let me know.
In the meantime, let's dial the gyno and start asking those questions I thought could wait till 55. Oh Fuck!

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23 June - Wedding & Opera

The tenor, the assistant director , the wedding , the tie dance, the drama.
I'll have to flesh this one out later, once I've worked out how to make the principals less recognisable. But it's a good one. And one day I'd like some statistics as to who's more likely to misbehave at weddings: men or women...

tbc

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22 June - the right from the left

The right hand has been unusable for a few days (surgery, since you ask), but I have no major pain. Only, I can't put pressure on it so all yoga is out and various other exercises that involve 'it'. I guess I could jog, but I don't feel like. it. What to do? Six weeks before the return of full functions and then I should do the left hand and start again. Am not liking this one bit.... Thankfully it is possible to have sex without much recourse to a right hand or arm for that matter. They can be safely out of the way whilst stitches do their work. Nice.