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I called my Mum today which was lovely, because, as luck would have it, I really love my Mum.

She was telling me about this charity event in Cliftonville, drinks, nibbles – THE LOT!

But, what’s this coming from left field?  The entertainment was provided by the attendees themselves.  A sort of democratic – ‘yes, get up have a go’.  “What’s that you got an emotional poem you wrote – yes, yes feel free. I’m sure people WILL be able to look you in the eye afterwards”.

Average age = 60

Average talent = debatable

But passion and commitment = admirable

What I really loved is when my Mum said:

“and Mick the postman got up and talked about Jazz clubs.”

Not got a song in you Mick?  Rita’s done a dance here and Sally did her version of ‘Pennies From Heaven.’   And you’re just talking?  About Jazz clubs?  Come on mate – get it together.

All I’m saying is if Britain’s Got Talent has taught us anything it’s that singing always comes first, dancing second and talking about Jazz clubs doesn’t even make the preliminaries.  That’s all.  I mean I admire your bravery and your passion for the un-trodden ground – but mate, Sally did her OWN VERSION of ‘Pennies From Heaven.’

I am being sardonic but actually I think it’s lovely (in a totally non patronising way) that everyone’s joining in for the jamboree of entertainment slash showing off.   Then again – communism‘s a great idea in theory.  But there’s always someone coming in to ruin it – and then there’s Sally’s who’s done her own version of ‘Penny’s from Heaven…’   Mick mate – it’s not fair on you, its not fair on us, and its not fair on Sally.

Pauline: Oh they’re nice shoes

Linda: Thanks

Pauline: Oh, no sorry I meant Melanie’s.  But yours are nice too

Linda: Oh, no, Melanie’s are really nice, mine are just cheapos.  Where did you get yours Melanie?

Melanie: Oh God, I can’t remember now, probably in the sale knowing me

Linda: Oh well they’re really nice.  How was the first aid course?

Melanie: Well, it was fine, but I wouldn’t ever use CPD to save someone

Linda: Why?

Melanie: Not worth it is it –they might sue you – not worth the bother.

Linda: Yes, they’ll sue anyone these days.  Did you hear about that American?

Melanie: No

Linda: Oh, I can’t remember now, but they sued someone for something, hot coffee too hot or something. How’s your diet Pauline?

Pauline: Well, I had a cream hornet yesterday.  Cos it was my other half’s birthday, and then I went hell for leather, chose the pizza at dinner and thought, well, Pauline – you might as well have the hot fudge Sunday.

All: Yes

One of them: Well I personally don’t think you need to lose any weight.

I have developed an allergy to alcohol which is a bit of a damp dog.

I can sometimes have 2 drinks, but any more and I get queasy.  I had sort of stopped drinking after a few ‘incidents’ anyway.  I can’t really be trusted not to turn in to a total moron.  So I knocked it on the bonce after Edinburgh 2008. That was after I did a free fringe show every night in the pub called “Look How Twatted I Can Get.”  Very much a live installation art piece.

But now I am older and wiser, it would be nice to have more than 3 drinks on special occasions without getting a hangover WHILE I am drinking.

Allergic to alcohol – what a turn up – couldn’t I just be allergic to penicillin? Or a certain brand of washing powder?

I’m holding a meeting with my body in case we can compromise;

“Look body – let’s just both get what we need out of this.  I would like to be able to have 4 to 5 drinks. OK?  That’s all – once a week – I promise I won’t act like an idiot and do anything like I did before”.

“Yeah but you said that last time.”

“But that was ages ago – years ago.  I’ve changed; I eat in Fresh and Wild now and take supplements.  I read more now.”

“What about when you broke my finger.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t drunk then?”

“Yes but it still hurt”.

“OK, fair enough.  Do you like elderflower water”

“Yes”

“Well, I’ll drink to that.  Now, lets get you out of those wet clothes.”

The sky man was coming round – so I put some clothes on – well I was already dressed but not in anything I wanted anyone to see me in, yes you guessed it- I had my naughty vicar outfit on again- tsk tsk what am I like? No, actually it was a shirt with inappropriate content on. This content was yoghurt. It had no place on my shirt.
I let the man in, you have to you see. Next thing I knew, I heard myself saying; “do you want a cup of tea” – because they like that and I like pleasing people. And he said “yes”.
Well, I was a bit taken aback cos they usually say no, last time someone said yes, I made the coffee, it was coffee that time and they had finished the job before the coffee was drunk. And we both didn’t know what to do because the job was clearly done. Time to go home what-ever-your-name-is.
But no, he couldn’t because of this sodding coffee – this stupid mug of hot liquid, seemed harmless before didn’t it? Well, not now… he wanted to go – I wanted him to go – but there was half a mug of hot coffee here – steaming away taunting us.If he went and left the coffee it would draw attention to the fact that he was rushing to get away. I might think that he didn’t even want the coffee – that he just got me to make it because he was a sexist. But more likely is that I would think that he thinks we have nothing in common and we can’t even make small talk over half a mug of coffee for 2 minutes.
So he drinks a sip – a big sip and he visibly burns himself. I ask if he wants more milk. He says no. He means yes, but it’s too obvious if he says yes that he’s desperate to go. Men huh?
God, it’s too painful. Not his lip, although I imagine that is a bit sore too – but this; watching him drink his coffee and having nothing to say to each other – it’s too painful. So I go to yawn and I strike the cup; I delicately smash it right on to the floor. It was premeditated that’s for sure. Don’t worry it was the mug I got free with a flake Easter egg. No biggie. I never liked it anyway. Good riddance to the mug and the man. That saw him on his way.

So, this new chap, he said yes, he said yes to a tea. He did not get a tea though. He got a small cup of Ribena. He looked disappointed, but I thought Rick (that was his name. Allegedly) I thought Rick, it’s for your own good.

‘Susan Brown’ someone said, naturally I turned around. Well, my jaw was on the floor when I realised that they weren’t speaking to me at all… but another Susan Brown entirely – what are the chances of that?

At first I thought someone was pulling my leg; a few of the guys like to wind people up and I thought this was another of their legendary pranks! But no, Pamela in HR confirmed that they had hired someone with exactly the same name as me!

Disaster ensued – I was getting up to 3 messages a day for the attention of the other Susan. I hate to think what would have happened if one of them was confidential. And then there was the Tupperware fiasco! One day I nearly ate her bolognaise. It was labelled… you guessed it, ‘Susan Brown’ and I thought I’d made it and forgotten about it. What a lovely surprise I said to myself, fork at the ready.

Luckily I realised just in the nick of time – otherwise we would have had a very angry Susan on our hands. And no doubt a very shame faced one too! I’ve never stolen office bolognaise before and I don’t intend to start now! What a month!

The stress was starting to affect my health – I had all sorts of concerns… what if our payslips got mixed up? What if she went home with my jacket on? Well, they were my main two concerns.

One day my husband said enough is enough, you have got to stop worrying about this – perhaps you could be friends with her? I thought about what he said and agreed to try.

The next day I brought her in a bit of blamange – just the thing to break the ice! She didn’t like blamange but appreciated the effort it took to buy it.

Slowly I began to see the funny side, and besides things were improving, IT had even set up a new account for her. She was now known as susan.brown2 on the system (instead of sue.brown). Which I think is only fair as I had been there longer.

After all the teething problems, we thought we’d burry the hatchet and try and get along, after all – we definitely had one thing in common! Now, we’ve actually become very close and people often say – “here come the two Sues – watch out its double trouble”.

Once we ate out at a cafe and went Dutch. Well, you should have seen the waiter’s face when we both produced credit cards baring the name Susan Brown. He was gobsmacked. He was probably thinking, “what’s this a Susan Brown Convention”?

Another Susan joined our office recently – but thank goodness, her name was Susan Carling, another Susan Brown would have been pandemonium!

I don’t like being negative about celebrities or adverts. Mainly because everyone knows both are nonsense.
But I am a paradox within, because I saw Katy Perry in an advert for ‘Fashion Against Aids’. This seems to be a new AIDS aware fashion line H&M are peddling. Well, the ad stank of the word ‘Funky’.
I don’t like this self conscious conscience. It’s like “hey, we’ve got a conscience…
and we’ve branded it”.
Maybe I’m being cynical – that has happened before. If I was a good journalist I would find out the amount given to ‘fight AIDS’ and the amount spent on Katy Perry and adverts. But my calculator’s gone missing anyway.
But it’s also a ridiculously named campaign
‘FASHION AGAINST AIDS’!

“Yeah, I brought this t-shit cos I am anti AIDS. Yep, can’t stand the AIDS. So….I’ve brought a trilby.
Yep, that’s me – so anti AIDS I’ve gone shopping.

Wesley. We called him Wesley one ear, he was a local Margate character. What’s with the one ear I said to him? I mean most people do have the two. It’s certainly not everyday you lose half an ear. A finger, yes – uncle Dickie lost a finger in a wood work accident. It happens. An eye, yes maybe, Gordon Brown is proof enough that yes, some people do loose an eye.
But half an ear? I mean where’s that got to? It actually looked to the untrained eye, like someone had chewed half the ear off.
And funny enough, that’s because they had!

Yes dear old Wezza he’d gotten in to a fight with a bouncer. One thing led to another and the bouncer thought – I’m going to have that ear off! I think I fancy to just bite that little ear right out of site. And he did. Fair enough – he stuck to his word. And off it came.

You have to at least respect a man who sticks to his word. Who sees the prize, and doesn’t let the law, morality or little Wesley’s protesting get in the way of a damn good chew-ear.

My mum had her 60th party on my actual birthday. Which was fine. Cos I’ve always wanted, on my Birthday, to go to a barn dance. No, it was actually a lovely thing to do. Her and Felicity (joint do) had a cake each. Yep you heard – a cake each. That’s the way we do things in Broadstairs.

So (because it was my birthday) my aunty Lynn was worried that I would feel left out. Yeah, I didn’t. But bless her she got me a massive, expensive, personalised cake. She hasn’t got a lot of money. Probably because she wastes it on fucking cake.

So I cart this cake back to London. I don’t like cake. But one thing I hate more is waste. So I thought, well, I’ll take it round the neighbours. Cos that’s what your mum used to do in the 80’s. cake was a treat. None of this 99p Iceland business. Cake was out of the wage packet. Friends round for tea – well, we’ll have cake. Cake? Yes. Brian – we’re having cake.

Now, I don’t know my neighbours. But nothing says hello like piece of cake.

The first one didn’t open the door. Because it’s London And you don’t know if someone’s going to be armed. With a Jammy Sponge. It’s dangerous out there – I’ve just seen a teenager with some figgy-rolls.

Anyway, so I took it round to no38. Chinese girl answered. She might be Thai. Anyway I said, and quite rightly so…. “Hi, I’ve brought you some cake.”
“what.”
“erm, cake?” (I did it with a slight accent)
“oh”. Now she is clearly thinking, “I don’t know you, why would I want your cake?”. But – I battled on. It was the most awkward cake based conversation I’ve ever had. It went a bit like this;
(Me) loudly as if she’s stupid and pointing cartoon-esque to the cake;
“Some Cake for you” (pointing at the cake and then her). Quite an intimidating way to receive cake at 10am.
“Yes. But Why?
“Erm. Its nice”. (it wasn’t).

She was probably thinking “what you fink I cannot afford cake? You come round here with your big eye and big body and fink I never tasted cake is it”?
I’m not sure I would like it if someone came to my door with cake. Ohh, some cake (that you didn’t want)… does this mean I have to talk to you? Does this mean we have to be friends? What’s the cake etiquette? If it’s a bigger cake – do I have to invite you in cos I’m quite busy? And what is cake-appropriate? If someone comes with a big wedding cake – untouched. And they’re crying. This does not say party cake. If someone brings round party-cake. Why was I not invited to the party? These are all things to think about when confronted with cake.

I went to the polo yesterday with my Mum. Because we’re posh. And we got free tickets. Not off ticket touts or nothing. Off uncle Dicky.

Anyways there were lots of rich people there, lots of whom also looked like models. This is way unfair. If you have been to the manor-born, it’s not right that you also get snazzy looks. Often they’re skinny because they’re eating the best quality organic produce. That and the cocaine.

I bet they don’t have to take their own lunch in to work at the end of the month to save money. Actually, the idea that they have jobs, or eat lunch is ludicrous.
Let alone owning Tupperware. Tupperware is very uncool. Savvy old Sanders, I ditched mine before entering the Polo grounds.

On the upside, there was a bouncy castle for adults, so me and my mum went on it. Yep. That’s the bonus of being humble-middle-class – you get to go on a bouncy castle.
As opposed to the upper class, they just live in a castle. Who’s the real winner? Well, that depends on how much you like bouncy castles and Tupperware.

I think I’ve made my point.