I'm proud to say that Neil Diamond attracted a number of guests drawn from the more culturally elite: John Sargeant, Alex James, Alison Steadman, Ben Miller, Judi Dench and, brilliantly, Germaine Greer. (At one point, I thought that La Steadman was sitting next to Steven Berkoff, but I think I might have been hallucinating with excitement.)
It was as though someone had arranged a coach trip from the Hay Festival or the National Theatre. 'Make sure you use the toilet before we set off, because we're not stopping at services. And that means you, Dame Judi.' 'Germaine, please stop holding up aggressively feminist slogans to lorry drivers in the next lane. Sit down properly in your seat.'
Had I been the director, I would have massaged the schedules to enable them to squeeze Forever In Blue Jeans on to the set list. And Solitary Man. If it was good enough for Johnny Cash, it's certainly good enough for Samantha Janus and Carol Decker out of T'pau.
3 comments:
The absolute nailbiting agony of will they/won't they allow Forever in Blue Jeans was overwhelming. I flicked madly between Neil Diamond, Britain's Got Talent and I'd Do Anything, terrified that I was missing something vital. I have the flu and a raised temperature makes one antsy. Best wishes, Mrs P
Have you tried a cold compress? Or wrapping your head in brown paper? Depending on how recently you have had your hair set, you may prefer the former.
I heartily wish you a swift recovery.
Oh, no need. My dear old grandmother was a well-known perruquierre and I received several useful pieces as a bequest. I can accommodate two compresses and a brown paper wrap beneath one of the larger bouffants, and no-one will ever know. Cordially, Mrs Pouncer
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