OH dear there’s a theme developing here. It’s the Monday morning review of the over indulged weekend. Saturday we were at Karen Korens birthday, aka the comedy doyenne of Edinburghat Winton House in Pentcaitland where the place was daundered up to look fabulous. Not as fabulous as the birthday girl herself resplendant in a full length sequin number looking half her age. So many familiar faces and behaviour patterns. Had a good goss with Bill Bailey, Fred MacAulay, the plumber who used to work at Radio Forth, the guy who runs the Glasgow Comedy Festival – who I told to marry his girlfriend cos she’s lovely. All done whilst glugging whisky – again. I’ve waited this long and now I have a complete pash for the grain. Dearie me. As our lift home waited I was spotted dancing with my whisky Jean Jeanie.Let yourself Go -o-o-o-o-o-o- and I did.
Off to the Theatre to see Traces, a French Canadian bunch of clowns, in the original sense of the word. Most of them were brought up in the Circus with some starting performing when they were age 7! How they contort their bodies to ping themselves through hoops that are suspended 8 feet in the air beggars belief. Never have so many people been so quiet as our hearts were in our mouths at some of the stunts they performed. The highlight for teenwof and I was a Robert Downie Junior lookalike Antoine– yes ok maybe he was a highlight for a different reason in my case! – he straddled (cough cough) a massive hula hoop and proceeded to whirl it round with him on the edge of it. Left feeling like the elephant woman, tried to jump up on my tiptoes on the way back to the car, teenwolf crossed the road.
News on the wire is the Clooney is finally getting married. The girls are reeling. In order to come to terms with this devastating news we wear black armbands to the cinema to watch Up In The Air. It is our collective swansong of staring at George. We watch agog as his charm emanates from the screen. Alone in a vast cinema we feel free enough to sigh as we watch him in action. We enjoy it despite having heavy hearts. As we leave Fiona Duff produces a cutting she tore out of a magazine, a bit desperate I think as a quick glance shows a man with a mono-brow,bushy moustache and lumberjack shirt. What is that? George! she answers smugly in the 80’s. Mightily cheered we agree the Italian supermodel is welcome to him. RIP our crush.
I am doing a heck of a lot of voice overs at the moment and no two are the same. I built my own wee studio in a cupboard in the house in December and have never been busier. This week I have been an angry French Pirate, a tourist guide for a Bavarian town, the identity of a new Literary internet radio station and a few corporate things too. It’s getting to the stage I can’t remember my real voice or what daylight looks like. If I had known how busy I would be I might have made it a little bigger, warmer and more luxurious as opposed to a dark cupboard. So keep fit routine is nil, complexion is waxy,eyes are red but as Dave booms from the bottom of the stairs ‘At least the voice is bearing up! Keep at it! ‘ Yes boss.
In Glasgow to complete judging process for The Restaurant of the Year Awards, give fellow judge a lift.. He gets into the car cluthcing a big black coffee. It is so full he is in danger of pouring it all over his breeks. Have you got a tissue? A quick look into the back of car answered the question, 3 picture frames, one broken, a pair of lurid pink wellies on their way to the charity shop, a few plastic bags so I don’t get new ones in the shops, one plastic shoe, magazines in case I get bored and a clumped up double sheet. No but I have a double sheet. Unfazed he yanked it bit by bit into the front seat until he sat swaddled in it sipping his coffee. Clearly a fellow non-minimalist. Winners announced 22nd February.
Aye feel better when I hear others tales of badness. Old stalwart chum Tracy went out with her friends for a quiet birthday tea in Banchory on Friday early evening. They met in The Stag ,which has a bar with a place to meet through the back. They ate their meal and then the next thing was she found herself bullying the DJ into playing the music they wanted to hear ‘Sister Sledge! Sister Sledge!’ by this time they had lost 6 hours – it was midnightand they were stylishly dancing round a small bar table. To quote Tracy the place was packed with surprised middle aged men and not so much surprised as disgusted younger ones. See that makes us all feel better.