Viva Seville!

Just come back from a (too short) trip to Seville to see my dear friend Pablo. He's started a club night there called FANI. No, it's not a strip club, nor is it a dyke-only joint. FANI is a nickname for anyone called Stefania, but you don't have to be called Stefania to get in. But the DJ is called Fani, and she's a lesbian. Gosh, this is getting confusing. Anyway, I went to host the night, and brought along my pom-pom makers and lots of yarn. Pom Pom International was a big success! Here are some photos




The chubby girl with the pom pom in her hair (no, not me, the other one, with the green top) is called Madidi, and she makes the coolest dolls in the world. You can send her a photo of anyone, and she'll make a doll out of felt and yarn to look just like them! She also makes lookey-likey badges out of felt, and lovely clothing too. Pablo and his fellow Fani promoter Luis got me a me doll. Check out Madidi! www.fotolog.com/madidi
I also met a couple of lovely guys who make retro-pop bags decorated with images of old Spanish tv/film stars. But what I like most is that they are called La Mujer Barbuda, or The Bearded Lady. These cheeky chappies travel round Spain and get people to wear a fake beard, and then take photos of them and put them in their online gallery. Look here and envy those with fun fur facial hair! www.lamujerbarbuda.com

I didn't see much of Seville by daylight, I must admit. But we did venture out for lunchtime tapas- tiny shrimp the size and consistency of a pinky fingernail, spinach with chickpeas, more shrimp with a fried egg on top. Yum!

2 4 1 cocktails

will be the death of me. Had a great time on the radio show yesterday, and to "kill time" post-radio and pre-theatre dan and i went for a few drinks. he said he can't drink before he goes on stage (currently starring as the Narrator in Rocky Horror Show) but miraculously downed a couple of pimms in a two-for-one cocktail deal. I started with cosmopolitans. then went on to wine. lots of it. with no dinner. he made it on stage with no visible side effects. i on the other hand made an unruly spectacle of myself by rolling up an hour and a half late to meet Gerard my new knitting friend (let's face it- i was in no state to knit), then wobbling off to the theatre. After the show we retired to the pub till kicking out time, then on to some awful club where Baylen lost his phone, i *thought* i lost my phone then found it in my bra, i lost my coatcheck ticket the found THAT in my bra, too. now if i can just find my cleavage.
i feel terrible today. and i have to go now and record some tacky tv show and string a few sentences together. i just want to get back in bed. ouch.......

I'm addicted

to knitting. I can't stop. I finished another scarf today. Mind you I did have a busy day- it wasn't like I was just sat on the sofa all afternoon or anything. But I start and I just can't stop! UGHHHHH where's the knitting methadone!!!!

I'm meant to be hosting a series of live chat show events for Manchester's ueer Up North festival in May, and had a meeting scheduled for 10am this morning at my favourite cafe which also serves as my office on the move- Maison Bertaux. in Greek St. I had a cheese croissant and a coffee, and waited 45 mins, but Jonathan from QUN didn't turn up. NOT a nice way to start the week. So anyway I went to the Principal Register office in High Holborn and filed for divorce.

Did the radio show this afternoon- Danny seemed preoccupied-he opens in the Rocky Horror Show tonight, playing the narrator all week. I'm going to see it on Wednesday- booked the producer's seats! I've a week of theatre lined up- tomorrow it's The History Boys, and Thursday the SB and I are going to a Taittinger reception at the Old Vic followed by a performance of the all- male Taming of the Shrew. Somehow I don't think this version will hold our attention *quite* as closely as the all-female version we saw a few years ago at the Globe.

I think I am turning orange. I bought a HUGE bag of carrots for 1 pound 8 pence last week and we've been eating carrot soup, carrot cake, carrot casserole, carrot goulash, carrot crudites...the SB came down with a funny tummy today and she's convinced it's from over-consumption of carrots. I'm not so sure. We may be ill and a bit orange, but we can see REALLY well.

knitting up a storm...

I have a few New Year's resolutions. They aren't the usual won't smoke/drink/eat/have any fun. And for that very reason my resolutions have been progressing quite nicely, thank you. Firstly, I am filing for divorce from my estranged husband, a lovely, generous and mysterious chap who shall remain nameless and blameless. It's all perfectly amicable, no kids/pets/furniture to fight over and our marriage of nearly 14 years shall quietly come to an end very soon. Once that's all done & dusted I just have to wait for the Strawberry Blonde to pop the question, now that we gayzzz are able to get all civil partnered up. I'm thinking ceremony at Westminster Abbey followed by champagne tea at Claridge's.

My other resolution is to learn how to knit. I actually learned just before Christmas, but it has been since the advent of 2007 that I am not ashamed to show my stitches in broad daylight. After a preliminary sage green "neck warmer" for the SB (OK, it was meant to be a potholder but it came out the wrong shape) I have just completed my very first ever ever knitted anything.
It is a gorgeous scarf made out of knobbly welsh wool in graded shades of copper & green. Looks great with the SB's flowing titian locks so I think I'll relinquish it. I have been trying to teach myself to purl all afternoon and gave myself a headache which was cured only by a piece of homemade carrot cake. My aim is to knit something- anything- for my impending nephew. The SB's sister is currently ripening a baby boy, due in the next month or so. It's the first time we'll be aunties. We already have his visits to London planned- art galleries, theatre, gay nightclubs. I think his father wants him to be a footballer but we're going to do our best to make sure he grows up to be an avant garde contemporary dancer.

By the way, if you want to learn how to knit, buy some cool wool, or just hang out in one of the loveliest little independent shops in London, check out www.iknit.org.uk. Gerard and Craig are the genies behind this magical place, in the real world and on the web. They came to Duckie on saturday and made some gorgeous pom poms for the pom pom gallery. Check out their blog for photos. I met Gerard & Craig because they kindly sent me a little gift for the opening night of my show- a knitted breast, with a tantalising note reading "Come and see us and we'll teach you to knit the other one". My skills aren't yet up to knitting a matching boob (must say the solo tit is looking kinda lonely) but we all need goals, eh!

So i've passed my Life in the UK test- a multipe choice test required of all foreign nationals who qualify for UK citizenship (or should that be subjectship???) and want to apply to stay forever and aver amen. I was required to have indepth knowledge of the Prime Minister's name in Latin, television license requirements, how schoolchildren are given pocket money, and the population of Wales. After 14 years here, I discovered very useful nuggets of information like the Commonwealth is the second largest international organization in the world, second only to the UN, and that the two main features of the civil service are professionalism and neutrality (!!!). I now feel fully prepared to take on the rights and responsibilities of a UK citizen...things like applying for interest free credit at Habitat and being waved through immigration at all UK airports.
When I tested my British born and bred friends with questions from the official study book, their success rate was apalling. And they're a pretty clever bunch. I'm all for potential citizens being forced to engage in the native culture, language, etc but when the natives themselves have very loose grasp on basic information about their own government, history and culture, it makes a mockery of the whole thing.
Incidentally, I toolk my test at a LearnDirect centre. Have you seen those ads on ITV, advertising this organisation? I always thought it was vaguely associated with LoansDirect and OceanFInance and Yes! Car Insurance. You know what I mean.
Well, when I turned up to register for my test, I had to hand over 34 quid IN CASH to a LearnDirect official, who then put the money in his trouser pocket. When I asked for a receipt, he said "You want a WHAAAAT????" I said, "I'd like a receipt please, for my 34 quid in cash." His response was "well, no one EVER asks for a receipt." " Well, I am , and I'd like one." So he makes a big flouncing gesture towards a pile of badly photocopied receipt slips and writes one out, S-L-O-W-L-Y. He hands it over, looking at me like I'm mad. A large, camp LearnDirect manager sniffing olbas oil pops his head round to see what's up and frowns.
I can't WAIT for my citizenship induction ceremony at Westminster town hall!!!!

Just call me Lady ....

Wasn't this Christmas and New Year a weird one? Or is it just me? I felt so overwhelmed by the amout of pure crap and dross in the shops, on tv & radio, gifts under my own (hot pink) christmas tree it turned me into a right old scroogette. Couldn't wait to ditch Britain for a bit of continental tack.

Dashed off to France on Boxing Day- drove down as per usual these days. The ferry's so cheap because everybody thinks it's too chavvy (um, as if Ryanair is any better- it's just full of middle class twits) As a result, we got a nice roomy booth in the cafeteria, surrounded by screaming snot nosed children and truckers with questionable facial hair and warm tins of lager. The Strawberry Blonde came down with a mystery illness which manifested in her puking all the way down the French motorway, from Calais to Carcassonne. Charmante, n'est-ce pas? I nursed her back to health with Soupe de Poulet just in time for New Years Eve and the excesses that entails.

We were on our way to a big house party outside of Nimes (hosted by our friend Nigel, a QC, who delights in fois gras for breakfast and whose designer farmhouse is lit only by candles and gaslight!) We stopped off at a desolate beach near Sete to stretch our lallies and take some photos. Returned to the car to find a smashed window and missing bags, nicked by marauding opportunists. The Strawberry Blonde lost just about everything, much of it sentimental value. Yours truly spent 2 hrs in the company of a humourless Gendarme reporting the whole annoying incident.
Eventually made it to said party, and spent 2 lovely days in the presence of the poshest people I know. You know you're the odd one out when you're the only one at the table who hasn't got membership to the Athenaeum.

Back to La Maisonette (ie our humble mountain lodge) for a low-key birthday celebration (no i'm not saying how old I am)
The SB and I went on an extended mountain trek during which I spotted a live pine marten, a dead cow, a lost grey crane, and then got lost ourselves and wound up on the edge of a cliff. I was so scared I couldn't even cry. We eventually found our way back after much uphill climbing. My ass is killing me. Still.

So, why should you call me Lady? Well, I am soon to be made a subject of HMQE2. Tune into the next blog entry to find out how I managed to take my "Life in the UK" test in under 6 minutes. I'll also uncover the truth behind LearnDirect.
A bientot! x x