Janey Godley's Blog

Went to see my favourite wee baby niece Abi, she is two years old and chats like you can’t believe. Her mum and I were laughing at something and the baby came running in, pointed straight at me and shouted “You are not funny”, it was the most hilarious thing I have ever seen.

 

All day I kept making her say it to me and she would stand and shout it over and over again. Made me laugh my ass off, then a big dragonfly came flapping into the room and she loves spiders and insects, so we caught it and let her look at it in detail before we released it out the window, just then a manky fly came in and Abi shouted

 

 “Oh look! A fly, how cute!”

 

So then we had to explain how SOME flying creepy crawlies are nice but flies are EVIL and lick dog poo!

 

Today in the tenth anniversary of my first ever paid comedy gig!

 

I can’t believe it is that long since my first PAID gig! It was at Billy Bonkers club and tomorrow I am back there doing an extended set.

 

Just a quick note, I am trying to contact Nick Collett, a mate of mine who left his details and I promptly lost, if he is reading this blog, please email me again as I cannot find your email address anywhere!

Also a quick shout out to all the blog readers in Canada and South Africa who check this blog daily! Thanks guys, it makes me smile knowing there are people sitting in a different environment and climate smiling at Glasgow stories!

 

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I have the cold BACK with a vengeance, I woke up today with a big spot inside my nose and my head feels like a fucking evil squirrel lives there and is trying pick its way out with a toffee hammer. Why?

 

We got the new quilt today and I am not sure I like it and throwing out my old one was sadder than normal…I am mental? Maybe.

 

Ashley and I are writing some sketches for BBC and the fun we are having is way too much, husband sat there listening to us both whilst tutting as some of the sketches bordered on totally politically incorrectness and plain evilness…well they did want them dark.

 

Ashley’s funny voices and character role play makes me laugh till my nose spot bleeds. She really is truly mental and funny, fuck I am glad she has my humour and his height.

 

I am off to London on Monday to do the photo shoot for Red Magazine and I am hoping, spotty-ness and fatness can disappear over a weekend. Is it just me or is the television deluged by adverts for anti wrinkle skin cream? I am a wrinkly old whore and cannot shift any of them and each day brings more and more to the canvas of my fat face.

 

So I will be fat spotty woman in the magazine, I also got the brochure for the Merchant City Festival where I am performing my one woman show and they have me billed as JANE GODLEY…the fucking name police hate Janey and keep dropping the Y…why?

 

Saw on the Scottish news that Lord Watson has been charged with setting fire to curtains in a hotel and his political career is OVER. I remember when I used to give him the shops next door to my pub back in the 80’s as his Labour Party Head quarters; maybe his stay in Glasgow’s Calton district turned him into a fire starter? What the fuck makes a man in some sort of power set fire to a hotel? He was caught on camera doing it!!

 

I watched with horror at the news, all those poor people in New Orleans struggling under all that water, dead people floating about and children starving and dying slowly under dehydration and burning sunshine. I sat there listening to that fuckwit Bush complaining about the looters, he actually mentioned people were stealing gas at the gas pumps. Maybe he will kill them for oil as well. I mean for fucks sake, if my child was dying of starvation I would break into any shop to get her water and food. I am sure there are people robbing a few shops, but where the fucks are they going to sell those goods? Come on they are looting shops for dry clothes and water, medication and food.

I watched the news and was appalled to hear that before the hurricane came the buses provided to take people from the city were CHARGING the folks…these are poor people.

I cannot be the only person who assumes that Bush would be happy that the poor die and the city needs rebuilding, how much would that generate an economy?

 

Ok rant over, I am off to stab my BUSH doll in the eye with a blunt stick.

So there we have it, the Fringe is over and I need to be normal mother again. What an odd feeling, I don’t have to get ready for the same gig night after night. I loved it but it is weird. I emailed all the contacts from Australia to Montreal that gave me business cards and thanked them for coming to see my show etc etc…

 

I am still a bit upside down and slightly annoyed that husband had taken over housekeeping duties before we left and had OVER washed our old duck down duvet THREE times in a boil wash as he was amazed at how much brown stuff kept coming out in the wash. That was of course the feather colours being heinously par-boiled that he mistook for dirt, so he kept boiling it in the machine till after 3 washes it ran clear. The feathers are now ‘putty’ and incapable of fluffiness and we need a new duvet!

 

I loved that old duvet, it had seen me through pregnancy, when it wrapped around me deliciously as I vomited up bile into a plastic bucket beside my bed for nine months, and it saw me through early baby stages when it cocooned Ashley’s wee chubby wriggling toddler body. I could wrap her up in it and leave her on the bed as I ran to have a much needed pee, it took her ages to get free from the big overwhelming duck cloud that it formed around her. She was a mini Houdini at two and that duvet worked wonders in stalling her when I needed it most. Other would call that child abuse, I called it ingenious!

 

It even moved home to my father in laws house where we stayed for a few months back in 1994 and that fateful day when the police arrived at that house to look for arms and weaponry, my faithful duvet covered my modesty when the police allowed me to finally cover my nakedness after they ordered me out of bed at 7am.

 

It became my security blanket when we quickly left that ‘gun house’ in late 1994 and at night in the new house I would lie snuggled up feeling safe in the familiar smell of my old duck down heaven.

 

Its now all crumpled and saggy, a bit like me really, its fresh plump appearance has given way to a flattened husk that serves no comfort and resembles something that promises nothing but barrenness. Like me.

 

So as my husband fingers his way through the plump lush fresh springy duvets in the shop tomorrow, it will only serve to remind me that this is what may happen in our relationship. He is searching for something that springs back at the touch, it will keep him cool in the summer and warm his flesh in the winter, it will be self cleaning and easy maintenance and will not wrap around his flesh when he least wants it, but will be sorted out by a mere flick over the bed.

That’s NOT me.

 

I am complicated, needy, offensive, argumentative, pleasing, passive, aggressive and need only to be told I am loved to make me smile.

Who knows maybe he will boil me to see what colour the water goes?