Move Over Margo!!!!!!

Sometimes you've just got to go for it! - sorry about the blurred photo, I think the photographer had a fit of the giggles.

What fun! From beginning to end a laugh a minute. I knew there was a ballet dancer lurking inside me. Well, we proved ourselves to be entertainers, so if you have, or know of an organisation who would benefit from an evening of poetical fun,  with the odd sketch thrown in, do get in touch with me.

Baking Biscuits

At last an afternoon to myself. David was down the church helping out with a bit of poster putting up, so it's was out with the music, on with the pinney, and into the kitchen for a spot of baking. Out of 100 perfect heart shaped biscuits I only managed to burn one batch (not bad for me). Now they are in the freezer ready to be iced on Saturday morning. Hands in the dough can be quite theraputic.

Now it's out with the nail varnish, and a spot of beautifying. Tomorrow I've a bit of poetry reading at a residential home in Beckenham, a chance to practice one or two numbers in readiness for Saturday's performance.

Sick on the Train

Coming back from Yorkshire last night we managed to navigate London after being diverted to West Hampstead, because of work being carried out around St Pancras, and arrived at Victory in time to board the 22.55 train for Shortlands. The train was packed with late night London revellers, mostly good natured, or else falling asleep. Except for one, that is. A guy who was quite worse for wear, head in his hoody, hunched over like a dormant tortoise, that is until he threw up on the carriage floor. The first I knew of it was a wash of sick that began to swill towards my feet faster than the incoming tide over Morecambe sands. Just what you want at the end of the day. Needless to say David and I legged it into the next carriage, swiftly followed by half a dozen other fleeing passengers.

Such is life! It did bring back a few memories of my younger days. But I must say, I have never been sick on a train, thank God! Sometimes I am glad my wild youth is well behind me, and I am happy to be tucked up in bed when all that throbbing night scene is taking place. I must confess, I do enjoy an afternoon pint of beer much better than an evening session.

Good luck to all you young things, whoop it up and enjoy yourselves, but do try to remember to carry a brown paper bag with you for that late train journey home.

Oh, I forgot to mention, on the train up to Yorkshire yesterday, we were sitting across from Mr Paddy Ashdown (of political fame). He looked very distinguished, lovely thick grey hair, and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather (which was ice cold) as we alighted at Sheffield.

It has been another icy cold day today, here in Beckenham, but, hey ho! it is winter.

Time for bed. Love, Jane x