I'm Ready for my Close Up....

The One and Only....

On Wednesday morning, after my radio debut the night before, while I was out for my usual three miler, strutting, (never running), to a bit of Pink, my phone beeped and lo and behold it was U105 calling, with a request to have a chat with the one and only Frank Mitchell!! (Settle down ladies, quiet in the back there). As well as delivering the TV weather like no other, our Frank happens to host a morning radio show....Which I happen to listen to most days while I'm doing the laundry/ironing/general grunt work. So to be asked to go on and chat with the man himself? Well, I don't mind telling you that I was slightly nervous, (completely and utterly cakkin it), and a little bit starstruck, (mucho breathless giggling) but overall, I think I pulled it off.

In the middle of all this hoo-ha, the Sunday Life newspaper then rang as well! FTLOG, at this stage, I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I BELIEVE my mouth went into overdrive and I overshared all kinds of stuff about secret shoe stashes and big pants with a complete stranger though, but I won't actually KNOW this till this Sunday when the paper comes out. Oooops!
Then they told me that a photographer was going to come out that very afternoon for photos, and of course, it was Sod's law that my hair was in a greasy ponytail, (although as far as Frank was concerned it was all tumbling curls), so I'd no choice but to wash it right away.

The photographer arrived at 330pm, just as I was finishing up another radio interview-this time with Downtown/Cool FM. (Stop already!).
I also had no idea that the boys were going to be photographed as well, and they were absolute urchins.... I mean, you know it's bad when the (childless) photographer suggests putting a comb through their hair!

For the shot - Luke was supposed to cuddle lovingly up to me and gaze happily over my shoulder as I typed on my iPad, but he was most unhelpful, wriggling off my knee and haring off at every opportunity.  In the next far fetched scenario, the boys were meant to frolic outside in the background, while I sat working serenely in the sunroom - it was all going surprisingly well, until a fight broke out and  Rory arrived in, mid photo, wailing at the top of his lungs. (I'm FAIRLY certain that Angelina doesn't have to deal with this kind of crap.)

Thankfully, he eventually got the money shots, and then he bolted out of this House of Fun, as fast as his three bags of camera equipment would allow. Not that I blamed him- in fact, I briefly fantasised hitching a lift, but the bewitching allure of an evening packed with homeworks, hurling and piano was understandably hard to resist.. So there it is-my brief heady brush with fame- fun while it lasted but I suspect that my five minutes are well and truly up! Happy Friday y'all!