JANEY GODLEY “GODLEY’S WORLD” Edinburgh 2009

Janey Godley’s Edinburgh Fringe Ad 2009

Checkout my new ad for the Edinburgh Fringe 2009,

I would love to hear your opinion.

Thanks Janey Godley & Team

Day one smoke free

It has been 24 hours since I smoked a ciggie and the highs are- waking up without the sound of baby kittens meowing in my chest and the down was –dreaming of being raped by a Rottweiler. I have crazy dreams when I stop smoking, I know it’s just a symptom of it all but really…a Rottweiler?  In a caravan?

 

Yesterday started with a bang. I decided to stop smoking when I opened my eyes; as that thought garnered space in my brain, I thought it also might be a good time to scream at Ashley about the state of her room. The two were not connected; anger is often the first thing on my mind when waking up.

 

“This place needs gutted and I HAVE STOPPED SMOKING” I shouted at Ashley, I had to shout as she was asleep and looked happy in her thoughts, so screaming was the only way to get my point across.

She jumped out of her cuddle position and sat bolt upright, banging her head against the metal headboard, “Why are you shouting?” she pleaded.

 

I didn’t bother to explain why I was shouting, it would take too long and anyway I had doors to bang. The great thing about not smoking is your brain becomes clear and you start to spot everyone’s faults with magnificent clarity. Husband throws his clothes on the floor and there is dust on the radiator in the hallway, that needs to be addressed in full shouty mode ….doesn’t it? So I screamed, my smoke free lungs are working well.

 

Before midday, I had Ashley cleaning out cupboards but husband still slept soundly, this annoyed me, and so I whispered evil words into his ear about death and failure. He woke up later all traumatised with bad dreams and couldn’t figure out why. He congratulated me on stopping smoking and told me how proud he was, in between sobs of fear and failure that had been flooding his head since lunchtime.

 

I imagined in my head how clean and healthy my lungs were and decided that I wanted my kitchen to match that hygienic look, so demanded that husband and Ashley took part in a spring clean movement that I am initiating this week. Cupboards, floors, units and all surfaces will be scrubbed clean.

 

“I love when you stop smoking” Ashley said, I knew she was sincere as she was biting a towel to stop the tears of emotion flooding down, knowing that crying would just interrupt our busy cleaning schedule.

 

She is such a grown up woman, I heard her on the phone saying to her pal “ I need to move out of this place” I applaud her independence and tried to hear more, but she kept moving around the room as I lay commando style on the floor, cleaning the skirting boards in the hallway of course. She swears a fair bit on the phone; I need to take this up with her.

 

To top it all Ashley is being bullied by someone called Psycho Bob, she was so upset telling her mate on the phone, and Psycho Bob has been making my daughters life hell and won’t let her be. When I get my fucking hands on Psycho Bob, he will get his balls kicked, though am not sure Psycho Bob is actually a man as Ashley referred to Psycho Bob as a “she” in her blog. I wonder what evil bitch is annoying my precious baby.

 

So anyway day one of stopping smoking has gone without incident really, am looking forward to day two.

Janey Godley’s NEWS

Janey Godley’s NEWS

 

JANEY GODLEY – TRON THEATRE

 

EXTRA SHOW ADDED

 

March 28^th 10pm

 

Hello people just a quick E-BLAST to let you all know that both my Glasgow Comedy Festival 2009 shows have sold out and we have an extra show added –see below

 

EXTRA SHOW ADDED at 10pm at Tron Theatre 28^th March

Buy tickets now 0141 552 4267

 

Tron Box Office http://tinyurl.com/bk5xj5

Tron Box Office: 0141 552 4267

 

Magners Glasgow International Comedy Festival
Phone: 0141 552 2070
Email: info@glasgowcomedyfestival.com
Web: www.glasgowcomedyfestival.com

Hope to see you all there! Much respect Janey Godley

 

 

www.janeygodley.com

Nigeria So-called child ‘witches’ Victims

My dearest bloggers, please click on this link and help kids who are being killed, they have been accused of being witches or wizards in the Nigerian Delta region…please help?

http://www.steppingstonesnigeria.org/

Winter is coming

We keep getting told that an Arctic Blast is coming to the UK. Now that sounds like a cocktail to me, does it not? The weather in Glasgow was awesome today, those Autumnal leaves as a backdrop to my lovely city is just wonderful to gaze upon.

Ashley and I went out for a meeting in Glasgow with a TV person, not much I can write about here as nothing is ever set in stone until the ‘cheque hits the mat’ (as they say in my family), but exciting none the less.

We had a great lunch at The Rogano, which is one of Glasgow’s oldest and most famous restaurants. It has original Art Deco fittings and Ashley has been eating there since she was two years old. It was where she tasted her first real champagne and where she gulped her first oyster (not aged two of course). The food is great and they do amazing seafood as a speciality.

My dad and mum are currently staying at our lodge up in Balmoral; it is just beautiful at this time of year. I know Princess Diana famously hated Balmoral and the surrounding area, but I adore the place. Our place has an onsite swimming pool, the lodge includes a sauna, Jacuzzi etc…but I can never get the week off at this time of year to go visit. My dad meanwhile has all the time in the world to go there and he and mum love the place. He called me to describe the beautiful leaves, the glowing sky, and the sharp bright sunlight and made me all jealous. Though I am happy he gets to see it all.

I am busy here at home; husband and I are trying to get all the paperwork sorted for the next tax year and accounts. It bores me to death and makes me want to drink bleach and needles just to get away from it all.

Life is nice today; it could all go wrong tomorrow though!

Janey does comedy at Norwich Playhouse

Hey all, I will be at The Norwich Playhouse on July 25^th doing my comedy show.

 

If you want tickets or any other info please click here

http://www.norwichplayhouse.org.uk/viewshowdetail.php?id=349

 

I have been to Norwich on boating holidays in the past and I LOVE the place, hope to see some of you there! Janey

Munich and beyond

 

I flew into Munich on Monday afternoon to do the English Comedy Club gig. Terminal 5 was fine, I was expecting a fist fight but…all quiet on the terminal front. Mind you I did not put any luggage onto the hold. I carried a small bag over my shoulder.

 

Munich looks nice, though I saw nothing really! I don’t even know what part we were staying in.

 

I did ask a local person what the area the club was situated in was known for and he explained “It used to be a slaughter area” – I never asked what was slaughtered, though I am hoping it was cows.

 

The club is awesome, it is so long and the stage was at the bottom of the room. It was really hot and the lights were blazing on the stage. Then when I was onstage an odd thing occurred.

 

The strange thing that happened was this. I was onstage for over 30 minutes and had over 15 minutes left when I felt slightly dizzy. I thought I was going to faint. Inside my head I was completely blanking out BUT my mouth continued with the act. All of these words I vaguely recognised were streaming out of my gob and yet my brain was screaming “Janey you are going to faint”

 

People laughed at my punch lines, yet my body was totally spaced out – I held onto a table onstage and asked for a drink of water. I explained quickly to the audience “I feel a bit dizzy, I am going to sit down for a moment and have a drink of water” which I did and then stood up and got on with the show. All the while feeling really faint. It was the strangest thing I have ever experienced. I finished the show without incident and went straight back to the hotel and slept all night.

 

I was aghast that I had fucked up but everyone told me they never even noticed, they were aware that I sat down for a few seconds- but they really enjoyed the show.

 

Last night I was back in London and I performed at Comedy Camp and I worried that my ‘stage illness’ might secretly return. I was fine and the show went fine.

 

I assumed that the room in Munich had little oxygen that far down in the room, that mixed with the strong lights made me slightly faint.

 

Tonight I am in at the Vauxhall Tavern in South London and appearing in the Topping and Butch School Assembly comedy night with Neil and Christine Hamilton. I am excited.

 

Speak soon all….Janey

Soho was Fun

 

My run at the Soho Theatre was awesome. The three nights sold out and I had great shows. I love that theatre –so thanks for all who turned up to see me. I loved that you did.

 

My best mate Monica came to see my show and it was so funny to see her sitting there in the audience. She told me that my scoop neck tee shirt made a funny weird optical illusion as I held the microphone close to my cleavage when the lights illuminated me from above  – basically it resembled a big black penis nestling between my boobs, every time I held it close to my chest and that made her laugh all night!

 

I am off to Munich to work tomorrow and will miss London  –  and my man- he has been wonderful keeping me well fed and watered as I run from the flat and go to work night after night.

 

I am never back at the flat until way after midnight, as I always end up at The Groucho after my gigs. I met some cracking comedy people and had great nights hanging out with Simon Pegg and his lovely Glaswegian wife Maureen. On Friday night I caught up with my old mate Allan Carr (Friday Night Project TV show) and even shared a quick ciggie break with Tim Roth! (Who was lovely and very down to earth, he is a top guy)

 

The best part was meeting all the people who came to the Soho Theatre shows after the gig. The audience were the best I could hope for and are such a great crowd.

 

On Sunday night I was on at the Komedia in Brighton with the delicious Topping and Butch, their show is just a joy to behold.

 

I am having a great time here – talk soon!

Asians in Scotland and Racism

I was gigging with a lovely Asian comic, Inder Manocha. He is an amazing comic and wonderful man and when we spoke backstage about Asians and Scottish people’s attitude towards them it made me recall when I was young.I lived in Shettleston in Glasgow’s East End and in the 1960s, we had many small Asian shops but no Asians actually lived there, they only worked in the area. There was a small shop at the end of the street and they were a lovely family. Aslam was the father and he had a wee boy called Khalid and he was my friend. Back then people in Glasgow were racist by nature; they would often look down on Asians and be openly racist.

My mammy was friends with many of the Asian shopkeepers as she ran so much credit and debt through her own poverty and relied on the shopkeepers good nature, yet she would still call them ‘Paki’s’ to me, I hated that she did this.

Anyway Khalid and I used to play outside at football and if we ever kicked the ball and it hit some man Khalid was always incredibly polite and shout “Sorry Sir” and apologise profusely and that would annoy me. He was being so subservient to these men who would shout “Fucking watch it Paki” and I would hate them for their rudeness.

One time I felt so sorry for Khalid as he seemed lonely and not many people played with him I invited him up to my house to play and he quickly said “No”.

“Why won’t you come? Are you not allowed?” I asked, I was worried he thought he may not be treated properly or was mistrustful.

“You have nits and lice that’s what my dad told me and I am not really allowed to play with you” he replied. I was taken aback as I always thought he was slightly disadvantaged and wouldn’t mind and because I was white, everything about my poverty would be overlooked because he was Asian and needed all the friends he could get! I was aghast! I was being typically racist, as I was taught to be by my peers and never thought to look past it all, but I was only nine years old.

Weeks later we met up and he was carrying a bag with photos in to take to his grand mother.

He showed me a photo of him in his school uniform. It was a posh looking uniform and he was standing beside a mansion.

“It that your school?” I asked. “No that’s my house” he simply replied. You see, most of the Asians in Glasgow were really hard working and quite rich, they worked in the poor areas but the lived in amazing houses on the other side of the city and drove fancy cars, yet Glaswegians would always look down on them as if they were better because their skin was white!

Glasgow has changed though racism still exists; people seem to be less accepting of other cultures since 9/11 and the rise of radical Muslims. I hope it changes. I wonder how my old mate Khalid is now.

Baby Abi and Autumn Leaves

Went over to see my favourite wee great-niece Abi, her wee sister Julia and big brother Shawn, they are so cute. Shawn is ten, Abi is four and wee Julia is one year old now and is almost walking about. They are the kids of my niece Ann Margaret.

Abi is the funniest wee human being in the world and features on my videos, etc.

I walked into the hall and their nasty grumpy cat ‘Squeak’ wrapped itself around my leg and purred loudly. This is highly unusual as Squeak is an evil grouchy cat that hates everyone and everything except shitting and eating.

“Why is the cat nice?” I asked Abi, as Squeak shoved its ass right up my leg, I suppose I should have guessed. 

 “Well mummy says Squeak wants a man cat to kiss it so they can have kittens and when she is like this, she gets all cuddly, but only her bottom likes cuddles coz her head still bites you” Abi explained to me. It was clear to see that the evil cat was on the heat and was all horny; I was disgusted at her blatant sexual advances and tried to shake her off my leg.

I went through to the living room and wee Julia was standing holding onto a table, doing the wobbly leg dance and scaring the beejebus out of me as she almost knocked her eye on the corner of the sharp edges. I hate this baby stage when wee babies are practically suicidal and constantly crack their heads on floors and other household objects. Why can’t we just wrap them up in bubble-wrap until they are three years old?

I walked out of the room for a minute and came back in to see Julia being ass rubbed by the evil cat, I yelped out loud as Julia appeared to be sticking pretend play money up the end that the cat was shoving in her face, the cat looked pleased and Julia was amazed that the cat was letting her near without trying to scratch her big blue eyes out.

“Oh dear, I think plastic money has been shoved into the cats nana, Julia has been sitting with her on the floor and that’s what it looked like she was doing…I am sorry” I explained to the baby’s mum Ann Margaret.

“Oh Shit, get her back from Paris Hilton the cat” Ann Margaret screamed and washed the baby’s hands and prised the plastic coins out of her wee chubby tight fist.

I got Abi dressed and took her out a walk to the local park. The sun was shining so bright and we both took our coats off and put them in the buggy. I decided to bring the baby’s buggy so Abi could get a wee push in it, she had to become a big girl at three years old when Julia was born, but she loves a push in the stroller occasionally.

The trees in the park were so beautiful with their autumn leaves all fluttering down and making a gorgeous carpet of red and gold on the pathways.

“Look Aunty Janey, the leaves are so pretty, lets collect some and make an autumn picture with glue when we get home” Abi gasped as she leapt from the stroller and started picking up armfuls of crispy leaves.

She stopped every second to show me yet another leaf, “Look at this one, it’s so beautiful, feel it Aunty Janey” she held out yet another red leaf with awe and wonderment, like she had just discovered leaves for the very first time.

Her wee face was a picture; she truly loves nature and flowers. We approached the lake and she leaned round in the stroller to look up at me and shouted “Remember I fell in the lake last time it was summer?”

“Yes, I do remember, you scared the hell out of us all, why did you fall in?” I asked.

“Well, I thought I was at the side and then I looked down and just fell over and my head went in first and the water tasted like fish” her wee cute face and lispy mouth were so animated, she has amazing big brown eyes and the curliest hair, she is stunningly cute is our Abi.

“Well I am glad you were ok” I told her and we pushed onto the swing park.

Just then a squirrel ran in front of us and stopped dead in our path, its bushy fine tail twitched and it looked at Abi. “Hello wee squirrel, come here so I can see your cute wee face and give you a kiss” Abi beckoned the wee animal, but is scampered into the bushes.

“You can’t touch squirrels Abi, they have sharp claws” I explained.

“I know but their wee faces are my favourite faces on anything, they have really cute faces, not like swans they have angry faces and mice have sharp faces, ducks have silly faces and pigeons have cheeky faces, but squirrels have the nicest faces and I just want to kiss them” she told me in one big long torrent of a sentence.

You forget how toddlers explain every emotion and theory that they have very openly, its so refreshing to be with her, she tells you everything, she feels, smells sees and hears each and every moment it happens. Kids have a running commentary of their landscape and feelings!

We finally made it home and Abi took the leaves upstairs to show her mum every leaf separately and explained the exact spot where we found each leaf, poor Ann Margaret was exhausted. Abi talks more than me.

Then Shawn arrived from school, wee baby Julia’s whole face lit up when she saw her big brother come into the room, she immediately dropped everything she was trying to shove into her mouth and threw up both arms at him. 

 Shawn, with all the expertise of being a big brother who has already nursed two babies younger than him, scooped her up and held her tight. Julia snuggled into his neck and sucked her thumb contentedly and closed her big eyes.

She promptly fell asleep as Shawn walked around the living room picking things up with his other hand; it’s amazing to see how deft he is with her. He sat down and settled her into the crook of his wee ten year old arms and kissed her head as she sucked away at her thumb snoozing. He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and cuddled her as he watched kids TV and stroked the baby’s head. He was completely nonplussed at having a kid sleep on him as he fiddled with the remote control and continued gently stroking the baby, like he was born to nurture.

Abi clambered over Shawn, she too is his baby sister and demanded his attention, he simply opened up his other arm and let Abi snuggle in there as he watched cartoons and kissed the two wee girls heads. He looked like a wee man sitting there, it doesn’t seem that long ago I was bottle feeding him and pushing him in the pram. He has grown up so quick since the girls arrived.

It makes you feel old watching them all grow up so quickly.

I had a great day in the sunshine, but have to reminiscing about babies as it makes me broody, Ann Margaret always laughs when I say this and promises to give me all three of her kids for a week and see how that sorts my broody hormones out.

I would have them in a minute, but not the hormonal cat- that she can keep.

Britain’s Top Forger

Tom McAnea was jailed last this week for six years in Glasgow after being caught printing millions of Euros and Sterling. ‘Hologram Tam’ he was dubbed by the Glasgow police, as he was an expert in his field.

Tam was known the world over for being the best in his business; he was a genius in his field. There was nothing that Tam couldn’t reproduce, right down to the secure watermarks and fine paper that was needed to organise such a venture.

Tam is a good friend of mine and every poster or flyer I ever got made and previewed on this blog was made and printed at his now infamous print shop Print Link.

Tam is such a great raconteur; you could never get a job done in the shop for his funny stories. Sometimes we would end up in the local bar and Tam would hold court with his anecdotes, I will miss him but I will go visit if I can and write to him.

It seems the local police have many pictures of the comings and goings of the late night shifts at Print Link and I am sure they must have some images of me, as I used to work in there late at night getting the posters designed. I don’t care, as I knew nothing of the slab boy’s activities upstairs.

Many people reading this will assume that I sympathise with criminals…but you have to remember I lived within a criminal family most of my married life and to me corporate crime is deemed less worrisome than violent evil acts.

To be honest I think Tony Blair is more of a criminal than Tam; he dragged our country into an illegal war. The authorities say that Tam would have destabilised the economy with his forged notes.

No more than our shit government are already doing with funding a war against the Iraq’s as far as I am concerned.

I hope Tam has an easy time in prison and I know he will, as he was well loved within the criminal community and deserves the label genius, I just wish he had put his artistic talents into something more legal and was out on the streets contributing to the community.

I don’t know who is going to make my posters for the forthcoming festivals, unless of course the prison had an art department and Tam can still take orders.

The Dog and the Doughnuts

Warm baked bread, always makes me think about the old bakery in Shettleston where I grew up. The bakers shop had a typical layout. It had loads of glass shelves with bread; cakes and buns all on display and it had white coated shop assistants serving the customers.

The black and white tiled floor had a fine dusting of flour that always stuck to your plimsolls as you left the place. The smell was amazing; it was concoction of dough, sugar and hot floury loaves emanating from its big ovens.

In the back shop you could hear the bakers shouting and going about their business, one of them occasionally coming through to the shop with a big wooden bread board loaded with loaves that he emptied onto one of the top shelves.

 

Mr Shaw was the head baker and I knew him as his daughter was a pal of mine. Sometimes he would let me come through the back shop where I would watch the people at work and gawp at the wonderful arrangement of cakes and see the mountains of dough all set out.

At times he would let me taste some fresh bread. He would just rip a big crusty loaf with his floury hand and give it to me to put in my mouth, hot from the oven. To this day nothing has ever tasted so good.

On good days he would hand me a big bag of doughnuts to take home to my mum for our tea. I would grab it, thank him and run outside and untie my dog Major from a lamppost and dangle the bag in front of him. He was a black and white mixed breed – somewhere between Alsatian and mongrel. I loved him.

He understood the sign and would jump up and down excitedly trying to snatch the bag with his teeth. He wanted a doughnut.

The bag was soaked in oil and sugar and made patches of transparency in the brown paper. It was warm and the sweet smell was so tempting that I would get halfway up the street before I let go of the dogs leash and I would dip my wee hand into the bag and I would pull put a big sticky roasting hot sugary doughnut.

It was fresh from the fryer and you could smell the oil, it would scorch my fingers as it mixed with the sugar and yet I would still stick it in my hungry mouth, burning my lips yet biting deep through the crispy sweet crust to the doughy middle and savouring every moment of it.  

My dog Major would be watching me, his bright eyes staring hard, his black pointy ears right up high and the anticipation in his face making sure that I never missed any of his body language…he wanted a doughnut and he wanted it right now.

His front paws would dance about as he sat on his hind legs, tapping out his impatience and wagging his tail on the dusty ground. I would smile in between mouthfuls and pull out a thick sugary ring and throw it to him.

The dog would catch it in his mouth but then let it drop; he would sniff it and poke it with his sharp dog claws till it was cool enough to eat. He was never as daft as me to go ahead and burn his own mouth.

I would be nearly finished and he would slowly lick his doughnut, and then he finally gobbled down the whole thing and then would lick all around his mouth and we would head off home. Major would always run into the front gardens to make his way up the street, he liked to skulk and slip through the fences and sniff for other dogs, occasionally barking to let me know here he was.

If I didn’t shout “Here boy” he would bark again till he got the sign that he knew I was there with him. It was a language we both knew without it being taught to us, dog and kid in harmony.

 

If anyone approached me to chat, the dog would dart through a fence like a wolf and prepare to attack with his hair all standing up jaggy and vicious looking.

If it was someone I knew I would say “It’s ok Major”, yet he would still stand and growl till they left. You never made many friends with the dog around.

People just accepted Major was an angry dog and often avoided me incase they had an encounter with him; I would notice how people would walk across the road if I was carrying a dog lead wrapped on my wrist.

I was never scared of him; he never once bit me or even growled at me. Most days he would jump on my bed, his sharp claws digging into my legs to get me up as he needed to go pee.  “Major go leave me alone” I would whisper, but he just scraped at the bed clothes till they were all clawed off. Freezing cold winter mornings would bite hard and both us would be standing shivering in the back court as he did the world’s longest pee.

“Hurry up Major, how can you pee that much?” I would ask him. His big brown eyes would look scornfully at me as If he was annoyed that I was watching him pee! Then he would dog scratch with his legs into the dirt to signify his toilet is finished and would dart across the white crispy frosted grass and sniff for stuff that dogs sniff for, whatever that was.

 “Come on Major its freezing” I would moan as my teeth chattered, he would dart his head back to look at me, his eyes pleading for a few more minutes of outdoor dog freedom.

He would leap up into the bins for a quick sniff around, bark at a few pigeons, growl at anyone who happened to pass through the back courts and then run back to join me in the run upstairs to our flat.

He always beat me in that run, he had four legs and I only had two I would often shout at him. But there he was standing at our door panting and almost laughing at me, with his tail wagging.

I would fall to my knees and hug him, rubbing his rough hairy coat and breathing in his dog smell. He would turn and wriggle away.

Major wasn’t a soppy sentimental type of dog, he didn’t much like contact.

Occasionally in the house when the fire was roaring he would snuggle up to me and then shuffle in front of the fire and lay flat.

His hair would be scorching hot and he would let me stroke it flat, sometimes he would extend a paw to me if I stopped, letting me know he liked being touched…just sometimes…only when it suited him.

 I miss the dog.

Take Part in a WORLD WIDE Experiment

During the Edinburgh Fringe 2004 I wrote in chalk on the walls of Edinburgh my name ‘Janey Godley’.  

It became a really well known piece of graffiti and now I am sending out a call to all the people all over the world who read my Blog to write ‘Janey Godley’ in CHALK on any wall in your own city, home town or wherever you live -not an important civic building, I don’t want to get in terrible trouble. 

Please get a picture of it, preferably with you in the picture, make it as quirky or original as possible and email it to me on janey@janeygodley.co.uk  tell me where you live and include your name on the email. Try if you can to make the picture reflect where you live! I will then put it up on my website and

I am trying to get as many pictures of as many people standing beside my name ‘Janey Godley’ in chalk from all corners of the world. Please help me in this one? Pass it on if possible, get as many people as you can to make this my truly one off special photo exhibition.  Love Janey Godley.

Late Nigh Walks

There can be nothing to make you feel more ancient than young people who had out flyers for city centre night clubs avoiding you in the street.  

These pretty long legged sexy chicks saw husband and I approaching and almost got hit by a speeding car to make sure we weren’t getting an invite to ‘Hard Rock Sexy Night at The Nice’ n’ Sleazy’. 

We laughed, wrapped our warm woollen coats around us and carried on regardless. Young people were hanging out in groups in what can only be described as beachwear, on a dark September night in Glasgow. I don’t ever recall wearing a skimpy pair of knickers and a tiny bra without a coat, in the freezing cold.  

As we walked further down the road we came upon a couple of big fat Romanian women selling pink glittery cowboy hats and some cheap cellophane wrapped roses. The fat Romanian woman took one look at husband and offered him the chance to buy a cheap tacky pink hat. 

“Do I really look like a man who wears pink plastic cowboy hats? He asked politely as he stuck both hands into his long black cashmere overcoat. The woman begged for money and we both walked on, I have no issue with Eastern European beggars or hat sellers but if we don’t get offered the nightclub tickets then we surely don’t qualify for the pink hats either. The Romanians need to get some marketing tips from the sexy club promoters. 

It had been a good night out; we had gone to a lovely restaurant called The Rogano in Glasgow for our wedding anniversary.  

We used to eat there many years ago but since our incessant travelling and busy lives we haven’t really had time to enjoy our own culinary delights in our own fair city for such a long time.  

It was lovely and the meal was awesome.  

We both decided to take the surprise menu. It consists of the latest fresh produce and seemed a good idea. 

I asked the waiter (who must have about 18 years old if he was day) “Does the chef come running out the kitchen dressed as a cat, carrying a huge silver platter and as he meows loudly does he pull the lid off the platter and reveal a stuffed mouse?”  

The young man, in the very posh restaurant looked at me with frightened eyes and said “No, I think it might be fresh fish” without a smile or any hint of humour. 

“Well cats like fish as so that would work also” I added, still trying to be funny, as other diners craned their necks to see who the mad person was. 

“She is always trying to be funny, ignore her and please add a bottle of Rose to that order please” husband sombrely spoke. The waiter liked him and hated me and my ‘whacky’ ways. 

The food was fabulous. After dinner I decided to go outside to their heated seating area and have coffee and a ciggie, husband brought out his after dinner brandy to join me, it was our wedding anniversary and so we should be together he told me. 

Outside there was a small drunken debacle going on with various Glaswegian punters who after too much expensive wine, were going a wee bit mad. Just shouting and staggering about, nothing violent. 

The restaurant waiters, who were all dressed in their starched black and whites, were nervously trying to contain the madness. 

We sat beside two women in their mid-fifties who were slightly merry and nice, if not slightly beaten down a bit. They had the air of two women who had seen their fair share of shit lives. Just as we sat down with our coffee and drinks, one big fat drunk man stumbled away from their table.  

The gas heaters pressed down warmth through the frosty Glasgow air, out door tables are popular since the smoking ban and are always crowded at night. 

“That drunk man would not leave our table, but we did get rid of him eventually, he wasn’t bad, just a bit crazy” the blonde weary woman said to us. I think she was concerned that we assumed she and her friend were part of the drunken rabble. 

“Well I am sure he meant no harm” husband added and smiled. 

Two male waiters milled around the small steel topped tables and started clearing up as the drunks moved out. 

The two women explained they were sisters and then just as we were about to toast 27 years of marriage the blonde one blurted out “My son died last year, our mother died this year and my husband died when I was young and our cousin died” she pointed to her sister and added “her husband just got put in a home with a long illness and is never coming out again” 

We all sat there is complete silence, the staff shuffled their feet and didn’t know where to look, I didn’t know what to say so I blurted out “My mother was murdered!”

The two women stared at me; the atmosphere was thick with awkwardness and husband burst out laughing and said “It wasn’t a competition; you don’t have to shout out deaths Janey!” He laughed more and clapped his hands with amusement at my odd statement. 

The two women laughed as well and I giggled under my breath, the posh starched aproned staff stood uneasily and then they started laughing as well. 

“Here is to all the dead people we both know, and to many more years of enjoying the living” I said and lifted my coffee cup, we all clinked glasses and sat smiling. 

“Yes, cheers!” said the two ladies.  

We all sat chatting some more about life and other stuff that strangers do when they meet, we traded backgrounds and past address’s and spoke about jobs and places we both knew and have been. 

“We haven’t been out in years, this was nice chatting” the blonde woman added and smiled broadly.  

“Yes, it is nice” I said and it was nice.