Holiday Bucket List Suggestion

Holidays, you'll agree, can be fraught with families. I can hear your teeth gnashing, some of you. I've written on this before. See: I'll Be Lone for Christmas...You can Envy Me!

Now...here's a holiday bucket list idea for some me-time.

I don't have those gardening tips, ideas for stately homes to visit, how to D.I.Y., how to master whatever high quality backlinks may be, cheap deals on seaside getaways, recipe ideas, last minute city breaks, deals on the Eurostar, cheap theatre tickets, last minute hotels...

Bottom line?
I have this:

Audiobook: My Tutu Went AWOL

Produced by Oliver Nelken at Mornington Media. Self-narrated, including opera as sung privately for Her Majesty, ad libs, extra material and bloopers. By which I mean that Oliver left the microphone live when I was seriously buggering stuff up - accents, recreating the sound of Velcro ripping on my body armour skirt, confusing Tristars with Tridents.
Ideal for hammock dangling, driving, leg day, back day, arm day, throw back Thursday, Monday Motivation and the Friday feeling aka TGIF.
Go on, give My Tutu Went AWOL a try. It's free if you trial Audible.com. Yes, I know, those trials. Once the free period has expired, you're automatically signed up for endless copies of Butterfly Monthly, eternal damnation or HD no-advert porn.

Solution?
Just get Alexa or your equivalent to remind you to cancel.

I can't emphasise the following enough...

It's the one tip I do have. Don't invade a My Tutu Went AWOL book show at the Brighton Festival, thanks, lads.
Or this may happen to one of you. Loss of shirt, tracksuit bottoms and dignity.

Comments

Me Featuring in The Sunday Times, Nicely...

This happened. The editor thinks it's a book of dog sitter stories waiting to happen. I am scribbling away at same... I first house-sat by accident. I was originally at Haven House, Lembton, as a live-in safety net for Lady Olive Simmonds, a seventy-nine year-old Bostonian with a lilac afro, a Temazepam habit and leg ulcers. Haven House was by the sea. Eighteenth century, elegant, comfortable. But there was Olive... Always in pain; either drunk, hungover or both; barely educated. She had married a man who was knighted, and believed this gave her a licence to be a twat. According to Olive, her fellow Lembtonians were all dull academics - this group having reading ages older than hers, which was thirteen - or failed schizophrenics. She had serious monophobia, with staff working (unnecessarily) every day apart from weekends. At weekends, first thing, anxious, she would ring round the Lembtonians that were still speaking to her - six in number - inviting them for coffee, ...

The Marine Says I Must Re-queer...

Being camp in Camp Basra... Stacks, ex-Royal Marines Commando, recently watched my Tutu Went AWOL! show on Zoom. He had notes. I was shifting from foot to foot, he said, and gesturing too much. 'And you must put back the stuff about the Brigadier and your fellow comedian being homophobic...' The Brigadier had been sneering about my act, saying it would be more suited to Butlins. But, more importantly, he believed I was an 'inappropriate influence on 42 Commando'. Stacks, deadpan, commented, 'Sir, before Iestyn started hanging out with us, sir, it had never occurred to him to play Tiddlywinks with anything other than his thumb, sir.' My fellow comedian, who I'll call Mark, because that's his name, asked Reg, Garrison Sergeant Major, in front of ...

I Love the Library

Therese, soprano, never uses a library. ‘Oh, no, Iestyn. Unlike you, I pride myself on always buying my books.’ I agree with Helene Hanff, who said that buying a book you haven’t read is like buying a dress without trying it on. ‘How do you know the dress will fit, Therese?’ I asked. ‘I always know what’s going to fit me, book-wisely speaking. I tune into asking the universe what it needs me to read for the greater good, go into the bookshop and find that I’m drawn to a department, then a section of carpet, then the particular shelf and there will book the book, in a sort of outline of almost light picked out from the others around it.’ ‘But there are billions of books out there, Therese, in umpteen shops, divided into squillions of bits of carpet and…’ She was giving me her look: a nurse at my hospital bed telling me the prognosis was far from ideal. ‘Yes, but with me it’s narrowed down q...

Iestyn Edwards is...what?

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