Goodbye to love

A friend just emailed to ask what was my favourite ‘rock death’, he is thrilled that the enquiry into the ‘drowning’ of Brian Jones is likely to be reopened. In answer to the question, my favourite rock death is the suicide of Andrea Feldman a Warhol superstar. According to Bob Colacello ‘Andrea had first come to the attention of the Factory in 1967, in the back room of Max's Kansas City, by sitting on a coke bottle and belting out Everything's Coming up Roses. She called her act a porno parody of Ethel Mermans 'Showtime'.... Her exhibitionism was extreme, even by Superstar standards...’ On the 8th of August 1972 Andrea summoned a number of X boyfriends including the writer Jim Carroll to meet her at the entrance to her 5th Avenue apartment. Clutching a rosary and a coke she jumped to her death in front of them all. If ever a gesture said 'fuck you' I think that was it.

Don't give up your day job

Tomorrow at 9am I am starting to write my first book. According to my new mentor, the accomplished author Cousin Annie, the only day to start a new book is a Monday. Books started on any other days of the week are unlikely to be completed and even if they were finished, unlikely to be optioned. I have been working on my notes for at least three years; well actually they have been under the bed maturing for at least that long. I have had one or two false starts with this project, fear of paper, fear of failure, fear of litigation, fear of success but really the truth is I am an ace procrastinator. I sit down to write and before I know it I am cleaning the skirting boards and believe me I am not on the good housekeeper of the year shortlist. Still, it was encouraging to discover this quotation by Oscar Wilde ‘Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.’

And so you're back

I am really excited my favourite model Irina is back from an extended vacation YES YES YES and is rumoured to be expected at the 'go sees' for the up coming New York fashion week.

Fuzzy logic

I am lying in bed trying to figure out whether sipping Diet Coke whilst eating Snickers somehow offsets the calories. I think it probably does.

Our lady of the lost causes

I ran into one of my more intense friends yesterday day; 'What are you up to then?' I said feigning interest. 'I am a starving artist' he replied importantly. Hardly concealing a sneer I retorted, 'Really - did Jean Genet claim housing benefit then?'

The art of letting someone have your way

I went to the hairdressers the other day for a ‘trim’ – my hair was extra frizzy thanks to the Great British Summer. I was introduced to a junior stylist (trying to save money - big mistake) straight out of the Henry Kissinger School of Diplomacy who attempted to run his fingers through my matted locks and said with open disdain, ‘What makes you think you just need a trim?’. Holding the last four (ok eight) inches of my hair between his finger and thumb he announced, ‘ This hair is all dead ‘ like the stuff closer to my skull wasn’t? I had the dog on my lap who was getting agitated re the hostile atmosphere – I tried to tell him that although I understood that the condition of my hair was less than optimum. For example, I were Rapunzel and you were the Prince - you would definatley be lying on Charing Cross Road with a broken back writhing in agony etc. But you know it’s my hair and I like it long so I am just going to have a trim – all assertive like.
’What kind of trim?’ he says ‘One where I leave the salon with almost as much hair as I came in with’ The dog was getting stressed ‘Does that dog bite?’ Of the two of us Chilli the Chihuahua was the least likely to cause him harm at this point. I really wanted to rip off my client cloak like Zorro and run out of the salon with wet hair but instead I said ‘I am struggling to communicate with you, I don’t know how to explain why I only want a trim or what a trim is’. He disappeared and his boss came over instead. He was nice to me – he was nice to my dog – he cut the most straggly bits of my hair off and left me with plenty to take home and he did it all with out insulting me once.

And assuming you have one - your point is?

I once had a boyfriend before I decided to never have a boyfriend again, who said to me as I was whining about who knows what ‘for someone who never had anything – you are incredibly spoilt’. It’s true as well, my rags to rags story began in a catholic home for wayward girls, led me through Lancashire council estates and seedy bedsits in scary parts of towns. Things were tough and I did everything within my power to make them worse. Despite all this the larger part of me always loved beautiful things, like perfumes, art, books and above all fine French patisserie. Today I bought 8 mini macaroons from Laduree in the following flavours, rose, salted caramel, violet, bergamot, red fruit, raspberry, lemon and coconut. It reminds me of one time when I was drinking Cadillac Margaritas in a Rodeo Drive restaurant with a friend I went to college with in Preston – he slammed back his shot of brandy and said ‘turned out nice again, ant it!’

You're going to feel a little pin prick

Oh God - I just remembered I have to have a blood test first thing in the morning. Despite everything I say about loving Eric I am a squeamish vegetarian and I hate them. I have fainted so many times whilst having it done; once I collapsed onto the needle and it bent in my arm – Yuk & Fuck! Another time I passed out and the barrel of the syringe burst – I woke up covered in blood with a horrified nurse staring at me – I didn’t know where I was and I thought I must have been hit by a car or something. I’ll try and talk them into giving me a pre – med before the procedure – smaller needle followed by cold hand of death oblivion – much prefer that!

L'amour fou

Though common sense fails– Eugenics prevail.

But I break just like a little girl

I am not crazy about the chocolates from La Maison Du Chocolat on Piccadilly. One time I was working for this millionaire guy and he was away for Christmas when a friend of his sent about 3 kilos of LMDC goodies to his Eaton Square home. I didn’t think twice about liberating them and splitting them with the housekeeper. (I am a socialist thief ) Anyway he wouldn’t have liked them and his anorexic girlfriend would have gone into cardiac arrest at the site of such sin. So the point is: I ate a kilo of these chocolates straight down and I didn’t like them all that much! They have that very strong powdery flavour – they are, I suggest, a gentleman’s chocolate rather than say a pink champagne truffle which is a superior treat and a woman’s choc of choice. However I am not one to bare a grudge so I did pop into the shop the other day for a look around and found salted caramel ice cream – very impressive and an affordable indulgence (I do pay sometimes) at £3.95 for a tiny tub.

Freedom's just another word for nothing else to do

I am writing from my new Blackberry -a totally exciting concept of Lilliputian proportions!
I choose my new device largely because I loath i-phones with their creepy slidey action and pathetic 'apps'. My friend says I just wanted one so I would look like I have a job - which as of yesterday I don't. From today I am footloose which would be great if unemployment benefit was well paid. However it is not, so I have been updating my CV - the effectiveness of which is largely due to work experience I leave off!

I thought it was silent until it went silent

I don't normally like to go to the theatre; its all a bit close for comfort for my liking. However, I did go to the Young Vic to see 4.48 Psychosis. The performance centres around the dialog of a woman having a nervous breakdown and from what I can remember it sounded pretty accurate to me.