Summer means camping and camping is great fun, provided you like eating burnt things and don’t mind having a constant dribble of urine down your leg from badly executed al fresco weeing. A friend has very kindly given me her two-man pop-up tent. I have a practice pop-up in my back garden but am...
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I have recently discovered two new rambling locations but, in the process have exposed myself to some al fresco romping. The first spot, we shall call it ‘the Common’ is picture perfect: it has a pond; it has water lilies; it has benches donated by dead people. It also has a mingling of topless...
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On Friday, I had occasion to purchase a sleeping bag. What with all the groovy festivals and camping extravaganzas I’ve got planned for the summer, I figured I could do with something bright and snuggly to hunker down in. I go into Millet’s and linger around the sleeping bag department, umming and aahing in...
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Friend X has a proposition for me: do I want to be a supporting artiste on a short film being made in Brighton? I’m to play ‘mature lady at a dinner party’. Any opportunity to show off, thinks I although I’m not sure about the ‘mature’ bit. When I learn there’s nudity and tomfoolery...
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If you go down to the woods today, in floaty trousers and without a balaclava, you could end up with a weeping, distended eye socket and knees the size of watermelons. It all started innocently; friend X to me: ‘would you like to go on a ‘plant journey’ in the woods?’ Me: ’sounds like...
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It’s been a very eventful, very messy week on the allotment. I’ve had manure in my hair, snail poo under my nails, plus I ripped my arm open on a sweet pea wigwam. I also had to have a strong word with Ted, the allotmenteer with the Filippino internet bride who doesn’t like root...
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Acrobatics - let’s leave it to the Chinese shall we? There was a time when the only acrobatics you saw came courtesy of Olga Korbut and her steroid sisters, tossing and a-tumbling on the telly in pursuit of Olympic Gold. Now, everyone’s at it and I have to say, the flic-flacs and triple twist...
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It’s Open House season in Brighton. Or should I say, let’s be nosy and go and marvel at someone’s cornicing. An afternoon of Open Houses for me, is like going to an art gallery except you can’t say ‘that’s crap’ too loudly and the artists, far from being dead, are normally in situ, mingling,...
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‘I am Love’ should be retitled ‘I am noisy’. Sumptuous, elegant, seductive, yes. But boy, did the Recchi household, with its endless wooden floors, take a battering from all those high heels. It was clip clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, upstairs and downstairs, and in my lady’s chamber. I didn’t see a patch of...
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“What good is sitting alone in your room. Come hear the music play”, sang Liza. So when in Berlin, on a four day city mini-break, I thought, must see the Berlin Philharmonic. However, said orchestra and its crazy haired conductor, Simon Rattle, had gone on its hols to Salsburg which meant we were left...
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