Iestyn Edwards is...what?

  Afternoon to you all - and apologies for a lack of posts.  I've been recording the audiobook of ​Tutu with Mornington Media - including songs - and writing the next book, ​Found, Found My Tutu Now ​(working title) having been signed to agent Lisa Eveleigh at Richard Beckford Associates.  'We need to know more about your psychic mother, country and western singer father, the strip-a-gram giraffe...'   Thrilled that  ​Tutu  ​is being carried around on concessions trays (I am an ex-Royal Opera House usherette after all) at the Winter Gardens Margate, the Hippodrome Leicester Square and the Royal Albert Hall. And I love seeing it in my local shop. Local Author with Rave Reviews in Non-Local Press   Cynthia has retired from the shop...   First time ever shopping at Cynthia’s I had looked for a basket, not found one, begun taking items off the shelves.  Excusing herself from a customer, Cynthia had politely but firmly relieved me of the ...

SHE.  Look, those cows are lying down because it's raining. HE.    Is that really a thing? SHE.  Well, yes, they're lying down, aren't they? HE.    But those other cows up there are standing. SHE.  They want to get wet. 

It is okay To Throw your hands In the air Like You just do care.

Is your life more Sacred Flame of Itzachilatlan Or Bunsen Burner of Ipswich?

  In an otherwise lovely review of My Tutu Went AWOL the critic commented that though my vaudeville act was booked for Iraq and Afghanistan on a bill with stand-up comics, I included relatively little of their thoughts on being out in warzones.   Stand-up comedians being so known for having thoughts on things other than themselves and their material...

  Declan Forbes worked front of house at  Covent Garden when I did.  He was reading law.  He must have read it very keenly because these days when he travels for work he stays at hotels that have three-page pillow menus. Touring I have often stayed at a 'hotel'  that has three cork boards of mugshots.  Do not let these  characters onto the premises.  Police aware but  running scared. 

  My singing teacher listened to me reminding her that diets (she is always on one) have a shelf life, though, sadly, her Co-Op bought cakes never seem to.  'But I have to have cake,' she said.  'It reminds me of my mother's little smile of promise when she went out to the back scullery and would sing a bit of Liza Lehmann, and then come back through with cake or scrambled eggs with cream or, spread on a barm, the lovely congealed ooze with chewy bits in from under the previous Sunday's roast. Always a joy when she went to that back scullery.  Well, apart from this one time.  Our neighbour's eldest, Susan, seventeen, had been ill for a few months and kept to their parlour.  We all knew why, of course. Like sopranos of the nineteenth century having a nine month bout of twisted knee. And one Monday morning Susan called in at our back door, shouting through to us that she was just letting us know she was up and about now, not to trouble. So we didn't. ...