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I’m With The Band

Weird things happened to me this weekend.

Firstly, I won £40 on a horse. It was called Beef or Salmon and won in the 4.00 @ Leopardstown on Saturday. I normally only confine myself to the Grand National when it comes to a flutter as I am unnaturally lucky and am therefore prone to liking gambling – pontoon, roulette that sort of thing if and when I get the chance which is thankfully very rarely. A friend called up to say he had had a tip on a horse. I looked at the paper and studied the form. I decided to go against his tip and follow my own hunch. And I won! As a rule – I only bet on Irish horses/Irish trainers – the best in the world as far as I am concerned. Anyway – that’s enough of my latent gambling habit.

I fell asleep last night and had the most extraordinary dream that I was really cool, dressed in black and at least a sylph-like size 0 and on tour…..with…….these guys

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There I was – dressed in black, the wind blowing gently through my hair as I walked the dirty cream backstage corridors of some stadium venue somewhere. I could hear the chanting fans and I adjusted my shades. What’s even weirder is that I was sort of like a tiny Patti Smith in a cool tight black trouser suit with converse boots and shades. I was also wearing a black and white silk Paul Smith scarf which belongs to a friend of mine (that I obviously secretly want). I was one of the band. I looked a bit like this but anorexically thinner.


I’m sure it’s quite a common dream – who or what band have you dreamt of being in? I have to say – I was quite calm with all the fans, wasn’t phased at all and was quite disappointed when I woke up as I never actually made it onstage.

And then I got tagged for another meme by Kattypuss.

I’ve apparently got to write 6 or 7 weird things about myself. Well, see above! I don’t think I need to add anymore. Apart from the fact that I occasionally wear odd socks because I like to. I like cold rice pudding. And I’m evidently the only person in England that enjoys reading anything written by Janet Street-Porter. In moments of anxiety (sometimes in meetings without realising) I clutch and squeeze my left boob with nerves while I’m trying to explain something. Right that’s enough.

I’m off to catch the tourbus.

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