I got woke up this morning by yet another cold calling fuckwad.

Fuckwad-“Hello can I speak to the person who pays the phonebill?”

me-“No I would let you chat to him but he is on the run for fraud and suspected terrorist activity, wake me up again to sell me something and I will fucking trace this call using his specialist spyware, find out who you are and come round and harm your family”

Fuckwad-“Bye”

I know they have a job to do, but I have seventeen fuckwad calls this week!

Ashley was working temp job last week where she helps in a kitchen serving scones and sandwiches to some local council department. I have no idea who thought it would be ok to let her run a kitchen, like me domesticity is not her forte.

She has had a gas blow out in the oven which set off an alarm, she has broke the gas pilot light and set off an alarm, she has set fire to paper doillies in the gas oven and set off an alarm, she broke the water boiler by leaving it on and blowing the element, she broke the waste disposal unit with a fork and then she constantly fed the leftover food to the local wild life resulting in scavenging foxes, small rabbits and snuffling hedghogs actually waiting at the back door on the ‘big lassie with black hair’ coming with scraps. I had visions of Ashley with wee birds on her hands, whilst small woodland creatures followed her about like Snow White through the East Renfrewshire landscape.

She came with me today to get my photo’s done.

We arrived at the Hilton and was introduced to the photographer and make up artist. The make up girl was lovely, she put loads of nice stuff on my face that managed to temporarily hide the fact that I am 44 and covered in either red lines or wrinkles. I dressed in white skirt and white top, and the dude took pictures of Ashley and I together as well as one’s on my own.

The interview with the journalist went fine, she told me she liked the book (well she would I suppose!) but she was very interesting and asked lots of original questions that I am sure by the end of June will be fucking so un-original, but first time round they were pretty worthwhile. I liked her, she had a nice honest face and was very focussed on her job. The piece should go in this week.

I am stressed, I have to admit I am quite stressed. Due to unforseen circumstances and bad forward planning I am now worried that the rehearsal time at Soho Theatre (Which I badly need) is going to be compromised by doing interviews and press for the book in the week of 1st June onwards.

I wish the book launch and stage play were not the same week, why did that happen? I will just have to do my best and make sure everything falls into place.

I got the proof for my entry into the Underbelly Brochure for my comedy show at the Fringe this year and there was a glaring ommision- the title of my show was missing. It was easily sorted and I am sure I am fretting over nothing that is what proof copying is for!

I have managed to get accomodation in London and thats a good thing, I am still trying to get accomodation for Edinburgh and I need to get a caravan/motorhome for Glastonbury. I am stressed> I have been hair pulling again!

Life goes on and I worry over the little things that should not bother me.

Other people have bigger worries, someone out there has a child missing, a cancer scare, a dead partner…I mean I need to get a grip! The world is ok, all is good, my child is fine, my family are safe I am off to pull my own head out of my own arse!_
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