Bafta Schmafta

I haven't been holed up in a Beverley Hills mansion but I have been coughing and spluttering with this flu/consumption/bronchitis/tonsillitis/sinusitis that's been going around. I feel like I've had a sprinkling of each thrown in a blender and then doused over me with a good helping of old-fashioned cold thrown in. But I don't like to moan...

In fact I would have been too ill to attend the Oscars so it's a good job the Lovely Boyfriend's film was only up for a Bafta. Or rather he was, as a producer. Ah yes, the Baftas. I was going to say it seem like a long distant memory now but as I've bored the liver out of everyone I know with tales of how I stalked Mickey Rourke then it's actually quite fresh.

Oh how the other half lives... if you're a nominee you get free this, free that, goody bags, suits, haircuts and the list goes on. The party starts on the night before the ceremony with a nominees party at Asprey the Jewellers. And yes, Sharon Stone and Mickey Rourke do actually turn up. As do Rufus Wainwright, Dev Patel and a host of others. What fun we had discovering our new favourite drink - a cocktail made with Chivas Regal and some other stuff I can barely remember now. This is where I first pounced on Mickey Rourke and declared him the winner of the best actor Bafta. Of course when I was right I had the perfect excuse to pounce on him again on the actual night of the ceremony and remind him of my premonition. By the end of the night he was to be found backing away saying to the LB "you have to live with her"... But what do I care. the photos were taken by then and we'd had our fill of spying on Sharon, Meryl and Goldie. If Daniel Craig had swanned past one more time it was getting boring. Incidentally I'm taller than James Bond. I love that fact.

Despite not winning, we had a blast and think that everyone should get the chance to walk down that red carpet at least once. I even got a big smiley hello from Jonathan Ross... and then he realised he'd clearly mistaken me for someone else. Oh what a night...

The time has come...

It's not every day you can say this so I'm going to capitalise on it I'M OFF TO THE BAFTAS! I've even used the dreaded exclamation mark.

Still no wheat. But one fabulous Vivienne Westwood top and a pair of pink killer heels. What more could a girl need?

I may be reporting back from the Hollywood home of some A lister...

Undecided

That's me. And to further my case The Animal Disco makes a very good case in point in her latest post.

So, as an experiment I'm going to treat this blog as a Twitter for now. I think...

The Lovely Boyfriend has been nominated for a Bafta. Yay. I get to go. Double yay. In preparation I haven't eaten wheat for a week now. What to wear? What to wear? What to wear? The radio gig is over. For now. Mickey Rourke has my money for the Bafta and the Oscar. Switzerland is the most expensive place in the world. Fact. Having just spent a weekend there, albeit delightful And finally Richard Branson is very friendly and accommodating should you ever bump into him in public. Having done so myself in Switzerland.

Is that a twit? Or am I just a twat?

Hiatus

I'm currently swinging between a new post, converting to Twitter or coming off Facebook and blogging altogether.

Will the KirkbyGirl retire? Or will she be reborn elsewhere? Still time to decide.

You Make Me Sick

Or do you? I was allergy tested today and it came up with a list of 33 foods that I'm hypersensitive to and around 8 environmental causes for concern. One of which was tobacco smoke so it's a good job I gave up the fags three years ago. A load of old bollocks or not? If not then I should spend the next three months avoiding raspberries, avocados, onions, beef, chicken and broccoli and 27 other food stuffs. Hmm. I suppose what is interesting is that no one I have told this to has taken it seriously. Or to put it another way I have been laughed out of a few rooms today. Even by my 14 year old son. When did he get to be so sceptical?

I imagine if I lived in California the reaction may have been quite the opposite. Or my news may even have been greeted with a wide eyed wonder as to why I haven't been tested before. But vive la difference.

I was wondering whether I should actually end it all. The blog, I mean. What with the Capital of Culture year being over and all that but now I'm tempted to stay on a while and let you know what happens when I re introduce raspberries into my diet after three months of abstinence. Some people give up alcohol for January, me I get to save a fortune on those Tesco yoghurts I love so much.

And besides, I actually do know someone in the Celebrity Big Brother house. So if that's not worth staying online for then I don't know what is. Fuck me, they're all mad and we shouldn't really be watching. But we don't need an allergy test to tell us that.

Let's hope 2009 is just fine.