Fuck Me! I'm 50!!!!!!!!!

So this morning I woke up and it would appear from the calendar that I am now 50 years old. How the fuck did that happen?

It seems like only yesterday I was celebrating my 18th in Rumours cocktail bar in Covent Garden, self-assured, vivacious brimming over with the arrogance of youth. How the hell did I get to be officially old?

Let’s face it, no matter what Madonna or any other woman older than me says, 50 is not middle aged. I am hardly like to live to be 100 (thank god!) so I am over the middle-aged hump so to speak and heading downhill fast towards pensions and zimmer frames.

So why is it that I spent yesterday DJ-ing in the Buddha Grove, spinning some seriously banging tunes from my MacBook with the help of the Virtual DJ app? As I was all ‘hands in the air’ to Tinie Tempah and the Swedish House Mafia, it did cross my mind that this is not something 50 year olds normally do.

I’m not quite sure what 50 year olds do do though, and that’s the problem I guess. I think back to when my mum was 50, she wasn’t in an ashram in India ‘finding herself’. She was working and running a home and policing my Dad to make sure he behaved himself as he approached 60!

Obviously any birthday is a time for reflection and as always there are two sides. I can allow myself to wallow in the ‘have nots’ - no partner, no kids, no career at the moment! - or I can celebrate the ‘haves’ - money in the bank so that I can afford to take time out from my previous career, healthier and fitter (even with Lupus) than at any other time in my life, surrounded by intelligent people in a beautiful location with the sun beating down on my tanned skin. Already today I’ve had birthday hugs and kisses from two very handsome young men, and it’s not even 11am.

Something tells me being 50 and beyond isn’t gonna be too bad after all!



This is me taken this morning, no make-up, self-done hair cut (can't you tell?) and no hair dye! Brave or what????

One Whole Month!!!!!!!!

So today I have been here a whole month. I can’t believe it was only four weeks ago that I walked through those gates for the first time. So much has happened!

Here’s what’s happened:

I’ve gotten through the two anniversaries I was dreading most, and not just endured the sadness but found new ways of dealing with it.

I’ve completely changed the programme I was on to one which suits me.

I’m learning to meditate with a fullness I never thought possible.

I dropped a ton of weight and re-instated my fitness regime.

I've found a masseuse than can only have been sent from the heavens with her healing hands.

Other than half a chicken panini three weeks ago, I’ve eaten vegetarian the entire time. Even when I eat out and have the option of meat I’m just not interested.

I’ve made some friendships that I suspect may last beyond the gates of this place.

I’ve gotten three new tattoos.

I’ve become so comfortable wearing dresses that it feels really odd to put my jeans on. Hell, I don’t even mind the colour maroon now!

I’ve found a peace that I’ve been craving for quite some time, and while there’s still a ways to go, I’m in a very different headspace to the one I was in when I was in London.

I’ve been to an Indian cinema.

The last one happened last night as myself and one of my new chums here decided to ‘sneak out’ and go to see Black Swan. We got a tuk tuk to the local multiplex (well four screens, but still multi innit?) and paid all of £3 for our tickets!

They had popcorn but with some unusual flavours. I had a mix of cheese and salted, but apparently the caramel one is the one to have. Next time. There was something kind of quaint about the way it all worked. We had some adverts, not quite Pearl and Dean, but no trailers, we had a short information film in Hindi about the threat of AIDS, which seemed to involve flies in your food, then we all stood up for the India National Anthem before settling into the movie.

A strange thing they do here is even when something is in English, they run English sub-titles underneath, they do on TV and now here too in the cinema. I guess it’s for people can’t understand the accents. It was very odd that while we saw and heard a fair few “fucks” not to mention seeing Nathalie Portman masturbating herself into madness, the two cuts the Indian censor made were to the words “cock” and “pussy”. My theory was that as the country is predominantly vegetarian, and both references were to eating said cock and pussy, maybe they didn’t wanna offend people’s food choices!

The movie I thought was really disturbing. I loved it and I loved all the deranged characters in it. I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t seen anything other than Osho on a screen for the last month but seeing all that action up there on a huge screen, along with the noise and colour, it all just seemed to affect me far more than a movie has before. I really was ‘in the movie’.

I guess it’s pretty old news in the UK, if I recall it was due to open there the week I came to India, but if you haven’t seen it do go. It’s a cracking horror film and Barbara Hershey is fabulous as the scariest psycho-mum since the one in Carrie.

Ayurveda!!!!!!!!!!

As I’m in India, the home of Ayurvedic medicine I figured I should give it a try. Conveniently, there’s a hospital on the same road as the ashram that has an Ayurvedic clinic, so I took a stroll up there and went to see the Doctor. I knew that you could get a massage for a fraction of the price of the ones here, but I wanted more really, I wanted a full diagnosis and to be told if my body type was dosa, pitta or whatever the hell it is!

I’ve been in Pune for over three weeks now and it’s taken me this long to pluck up the courage to check this stuff out. I had an Ayurvedic treatment once before - about 15 years ago - and it practically put me off for life.

I was in Kerala with my partner at the time and the owner of the guest house we were staying was forever trying to make more money from us than he already had. Every day, amongst many other products, he plugged the massages that took place on the roof in his Ayurvedic “clinic”. Eventually, we relented and signed up. My partner went first and he returned in one piece but didn’t give too much away. Then it was my turn…

I walked into what was basically a shed on the roof of the building that had a greasy old mattress on floor. This wild looking creature all hair and eyes, wearing only a loincloth, told me to strip. Being British and wanting to appear worldly I did, but inside my mind was racing ‘was this legit?’ ‘what the fuck was this over-grown Mowgli character gonna do to me?’

I laid on this mattress, my flesh truly was crawling as I wondered how many people had been naked on here before me. A few thousand judging by the stains. It made the Ibis look 5*! I closed my eyes and tried to think of England, but made the fatal mistake of opening them just as he was about to begin. The crazy fucker was holding onto a rope that was dangling from the roof and with his feet dripping in oil began to massage every part of my body with his nasty, gnarled feet!

I have a problem with other people’s feet at the best of times - the only time I knew I was truly in love was when I gave an ex-boyfriend a pedicure - and to see these hoof-life specimens coming towards my face almost made me puke! Again though I was too polite to say anything and just laid there rigid.

He worked his way up and down my body, massaging my titties, belly, arms, legs and even my chuff! He was swinging wildly on the rope now, so wildly his foot slipped and he was wearing me like a frigging shoe! My snatch was hanging off his calloused foot like a worn out Birkenstock! Needless to say I didn’t find it all that relaxing.

So now you can understand the trepidation I felt as I walked into the doctor’s office. First thing I did was check the ceiling, no ropes there thank god. He took my pulse and said ‘you have digestion problems’. Now I am no expert, but I’d guess most Westerners here are having digestion problems!

He asked if I wanted a massage and I said I did, so he wrote out a prescription for the type of massage I needed. He added to that a prescription for some medicine for my ‘digestion problems’ and told me to drink lots of water. The price of the consultation was Rs 50 - less than a quid.

He’s the second person to tell me that in as many days - I had reflexology on Sunday night as was told the same thing - so there must be something in it. I’m up to a minimum of two litres a day now.
Next the pharmacist mixed up a potion that looked like it was straight out of the evil Queen’s laboratory in Sleeping Beauty, and so much of it too! That cost me Rs58. I smelled it when I got home and have to say, I’ve not yet had the cojones to taste it!

The appointment for the massage was made for the next day, so 24 hours later I was back. I paid a grand total of Rs250 - just over £4 for a one hour, full body treatment. A tiny, kind-looking woman collected me once I’d paid, and took me into a room which, if you’d seen it in the UK you’d have run a mile from. It wasn’t the cleanest room shall we say. The ceiling fan was black with dust, grease and dead bugs but it wasn’t on so I guess the chances of them dropping on me were slim. There wasn’t any rope up there either - to my relief - so unless she was gonna hang onto the ceiling fan and spin round there was every chance this would be a hands-on massage, not feet-on.

In the middle of this tiny, dirty room was the most enormous wooden massage table I have ever seen, it glistened with all the years of oil that had soaked into it and I must say it was far more palatable than the mattress in Kerala!

She told me to take all my clothes off, and produced what looked like one of those surgical face masks but bigger, which became my nappy! I got on the table and again closed my eyes - I guess I figure if I can’t see it, it can’t be bad - starting with my left foot she began to pour really hot oil onto my body. Oh man! It was the most wonderful feeling! She worked my entire left side with this oil, giving my poor, knackered knees extra attention.

The most amazing part came when she reached the spot where I’d been getting the stabbing pains on my left side and before she even touched me she asked if it was ‘paining”. I was blown away and told her not so much today but how it was agony yesterday. She rubbed, gently at first, then with more vigour, and whatever was causing this pain must have been rubbed away!

After she’d done the right side she asked me to turn over. Not so easy when you’re literally bathing in oil! I opened my eyes finally at this point and got the shock of my life! Me and the table looked like the frikkin’ Prom scene from Carrie! This oil was red and I was covered! Mentally I cursed myself for wearing a white top to this.

She helped me turn over without slipping right off the table and off into Casualty, and did more magic on my back. The nappy came off and my ass got a right good going over, I was happier than a pig in shit!

When she was done, she wiped enough oil from my feet so that I could stand, and led me into the bathroom. She mixed up some kind of herbal powder with water and began to scrub my back with it, telling me to do the same to the rest of my body. Then she put the shower on and left me to it.

Anywhere else in the world, the surroundings might have been more luxurious, but the treatment would’ve been far less beneficial. My skin was glowing, still a bit red, but glowing. My joints which had been causing me so much pain over the last few weeks were immediately eased, and I felt a calmness that was new too. I handed her a tip and booked in again for next week. Cant wait!

Tatts All Folks!

So it would appear that you really can’t come to India and not get a tattoo, and on Sunday the time came for me to get mine.

I’d been considering getting something done for quite some time now. Last year in Thailand I contemplated getting an “OM” symbol done in the Khao San Road but fears of catching monkey aids or something put me off. Even in Kuala Lumpur I was looking, but it’s really since I arrived here that I haven’t been able to talk myself out of it.

Added to that there’s a bit of a birthday tradition of getting ink. On my 21st I got my first tattoo, a rose on my left shoulder, on my 30th I got that covered over by a tiger done by the amazing Dennis Cockell (he did all The Stray Cats’ tattoos), on my 40th I got the Japanese tribal ones on my ankles done by Miles Better* at Into You in Clerkenwell. On my 42nd I got the now faded tiger turned into a panther while I was in Melbourne doing the Comedy Festival. Since then, nothing.

In a month’s time I will be 50 so what better way to mark it than by getting inked again? During my time on the work programme I had access to the net and last week I did my research. I found a fabulous “OM”, but I also found the Zen Circle symbol for nothingness and the representation for Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. I found three more designs that I also want but decided to keep it to three for the first go. I found a tattooist who has his studio just up the road. He lives here because of the Osho commune, has been coming here for the last seven years, and he gives a discount to fellow sannyasins. Gotta love a ‘mate’s rate’ deal!

So there I was on Sunday lunchtime, no maroon robe to be seen, sitting and discussing the placement of the tattoos. There was another significance in choosing three that I only realised afterwards - the loss of three people I love very dearly. How fitting that they are all symbols of peace in one way or another.

I was surprised how little pain there was. The ankle ones all those years ago hurt sooooo much I wept! These posed a bit of mild discomfort. Granted two of them - on my inner forearms are on fairly fleshy parts of my body, but the third which is behind my right ear has no meat on it and the most painful part of that was sitting for so long with my body contorted in such a way that he could reach the target!

I’m not allowed to swim or sunbathe for 15 days, but I’m sure I’ll cope, and boy they look amazing so it’s well worth the inconvenience. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may get the other three done before I leave here!


*Not his real name I suspect

The Osho Experience...Part Two

So here I am. In paradise.

I’ve been here in Pune now for almost three weeks but the time I spent in Goa, Mumbai, Agra or anywhere else in India seems like years ago. London? I can barely remember what the place looks or feels like!

Those of you who know me will know that I came to the Osho Ashram to do a ‘Work As Meditation’ programme. I booked this seven months ago and at the time I fondly imagined doing a bit of gardening, maybe chopping some veggies for dinner, or perhaps doing some laundry as my work. It seems that my imagination was stuck in how it was here 20 years ago!

This place is a business and as such there are business-type jobs for us ‘Sannyas’ to do. I found myself working in the office where they administrate people like me who come here to work. Basically Human Resources (or Personnel as it was known in the days when I had a ‘proper’ job).

Apparently the work is selected based in part on your experience and from the answers you give to the application questionnaire. Well I can’t remember what answers I gave but there is nothing on this planet that could ever make me suitable for that type of work.

I understand the concept is to give you tangible skills that you can then take back into the real world and apply to your daily work, but given that a/ I “retired” on 1/1/11, b/ I haven’t done a corporate job for over 20 years and the last time I did it ended with me having a massive breakdown, and c/ even if I wanted a ‘real’ job, I’ll be 50 when I get back. I doubt anybody is looking to employ a 50 year old stand-up comedienne to run their personnel department.

So from the start it was a challenge to see exactly how this was gonna benefit me in any way. Then you must factor in the personalities and working practices of the other people. Now one thing I am good at is reading people very quickly. As a comedian I’ve had to be able to do that well, that’s how I’ve made a living for so long, and my reading of the characters in this game led me to understand that where they were coming from couldn’t be more diametrically opposed to me.

The killer quote was that I was told I was a ‘people person’ when we all know I’d take a monkey over a human any day of the week!

The icing on the cake of course was the office gossip and politics. As someone who’s been getting paid for being honest for the best part of 18 years, I find it hard to bullshit and kiss ass. Actually, make that impossible.

So all of those factors have led me to where I am today. Sitting in one of the deluxe rooms, bank balance slightly lighter, writing this post having spent the morning just ‘being’. I changed my whole programme on Saturday and now my days will be spent in meditation, tai chi, swimming, sunbathing, reading Osho’s words (which is what brought me here in the first place), and doing some writing.

Outside of the office this place is paradise and that was brought home to me in the Tai Chi class yesterday morning. It was 8am, so peaceful, I was focused on the forms then I spotting something moving in one of the bamboo trees that line the space where we were Tai Chi’ing. It was a macaque! He was a right big old bugger too! Only last week I’d thought to myself that this place would be perfect if there were monkeys, and now there are.

Here’s to perfection.

The Osho Experience...Part One

I’m now into my third week here, and I have to say it’s been eventful! I was imagining a place of peace and tranquility and picturing how I would be a big ol’ bundle of Zen nothingness inside 24 hours. Wrong!

There is an immense peace here, especially if you are coming from elsewhere in India, or even just from downtown Pune. Once inside the gates and amongst the beautiful gardens with gorgeous statues of the Buddha dotted about, it is very easy to forget where in the world you are.

Now that I am on the new programme I am getting a chance to really experience the peace, and it’s blinking hard! My tendency to fill up my days with all manner of distractions has meant that I am still fighting with the practice of ‘doing nothing consciously’. I guess it’ll take time, but in the meantime what a blast it’s been! Good and bad.

When I arrived I was a bit shell shocked to be honest, the mad week running around Delhi, Agra and Jaipur, followed by a fairly frantic attempt to acquaint myself with the city of Pune in about 24 hours, meant that I’d been experiencing a sensory overload when I walked through the gates.

This was topped up as I was walked through the procedure of registering, being shown to my room, where the laundry was, what my timetable was, etc., etc. The room was better than I expected. I really was imaging a sparse little cell and while it wasn’t too far removed from that it was kinda cute. I was up in the attic with a single bed that was the smallest bed I’d slept in since I was about four years old, and I shared three loos and four shower stalls with about 10 other people. Bit of a shock, but not earth-shattering. I amazed myself by how not a big deal this was.

The food wasn’t a surprise, I knew it was vegetarian. The surprise has been that I don’t miss meat at all! Ever since my by-pass I’d cut back immensely on my meat intake because digesting it is difficult, but apart from half a chicken panini when I played hooky for an afternoon last week, I’ve had no meat or fish since 10 Feb and I really don’t crave it at all. My portions have significantly reduced too, before I came to India my weight was creeping back up, slowly but still going the wrong way on the scales. I gained a couple of stones back when I gave up smoking, and another one was making it’s presence felt when I took out my winter clothes this time. There’s no weighing scales here in paradise, but the fact that all of my “civvy” clothes are hanging on me, and I’ve gone up three notches on the belt I bought in Kuala Lumpur last October tells me I’m losing it again. Those things and the fact that there were scales in the hotel I stayed in before I came into the commune. On those I’d already lost nine pounds since leaving London, and I was eating lots outside here!

I was given some time to get my bearings and as I walked around I was aware of what was missing, the hustle and bustle of everyday life, the cars, the incessant pomping of horns that is surely the national sound of India, all gone.

The next day I was given an orientation talk about the Work as Meditation programme and I was all for it. I got the concept, I saw how it could be put into practice both in here and outside in the real world, it made sense. Now I’ve done a whole separate post about my experience with the work part of this, so I won’t go into it here. Suffice to say, in 20 years nothing’s changed, the corporate world still isn’t for me.

Outside of work there’s been some amazing things here. The sound of the birds singing all day long, the bright green parakeets who are as common as pigeons here, the two new commune members, a pair of glorious peacocks, one of whom has fallen in love with the rooster alarm call that sounds every hour here. It took me a couple of days to realise the rooster was on tape, I wonder how long it will take the peacock? I love hearing him respond to it! They come and sniff about for scraps in the Zorba restaurant and they are so haughty that when you give them a few crumbs they look at you like you should’ve served them on a silver platter. It’s awesome to be able to study them so close up, the colours are amazing.

The lush greenery and the almost constant sound of falling water, add to the Zen quality of the place, the architecture is pretty fabulous too. The Osho Basho where they house the gym, lockers and changing rooms & showers for the pool wouldn’t look out of place at Chiva Som or somewhere! The pool itself is wonderful, there’s no chlorine used but the water is crisp and clear and fresh. It’s not pool shaped eg rectangular, it’s like a lake and it’s a joy to swim in. As the time passes and the temperatures creep up to an expected 45C before I leave here, something tells me that will be where I do most of my meditations!

Speaking of which, there are so many different kinds of meditation available, most of which take place inside the enormous Meditation Hall which is a huge black marble pyramid on the other side of the campus. It’s so cool and quiet in there, the perfect space to begin to let go of the outside world.

The meditations begin at 6am with Dynamic Meditation, which if I were to try and explain would just sound bonkers. I did it for seven days in a row and apart from a pair of severely swollen knees, I also gained some clarity of thought. Enough to change programmes at least! There’s something rather wonderful about being up at that time of the day too.

From then on there’s almost constant meditations taking place in there, most last an hour and there’s a 15 minute turn around time - the place is organised a bit like The Pleasance in Edinburgh only with a few more comedians! Of the ones I have tried I love Vipassana and Kundalini most. They’re pretty much opposites of each other but work really well. I have gotten further with my meditation in here in 19 days than I did in seven years of sitting in front of my shrine at home!

Every evening at 6.30 we got for the Evening Meeting. There’s a bit of dancing to a live band most nights. Dancing is very big here. When I first started I was doing a bit of a shoe-gazer shuffle, now I am in full on “hands in the air” mode at least three times a day! It sure loosens me up.

Then we sit for about 15 minutes where there’s some silence and some amazing Indian music, the two alternate. Most nights I count the breaths in this part. At 7pm they show a video of Osho giving a talk. The structure is very loose and the idea is that if you try and sit in silence your mind will wander all over the place (ain’t that the truth!) but when you listen to Osho speaking in that very peculiar way of his - which I am told is deliberate - you are aware, your mind is focussed on the here and now. It works too. Apart from a couple of nights when I was still doing the work and was so tired I fell asleep, I am more present during his talks than I’ve ever been anywhere, at any time!

There’s even meditations at 9.30 at night but I have yet to take part in any of those due to being knackered, however I plan to hit at least one of them in the next couple of nights.

Some flowers for my new "deluxe" room. Even in a cut down water bottle roses are beautiful!

One Year On...

Safe to say that the last couple of weeks have been pretty challenging. Coming here, getting accustomed to the way things run, becoming a vegetarian(!), getting up even earlier than I was used to, no TV or proper shopping. It’s all been a huge shift in the way my life has been.

All of those pale into comparison of course with the two anniversaries that have just passed.

On Sunday 20th February it was the first anniversary of the death of my dear friend Jason Woods. Back in London a tribute night was held to celebrate his life, and I heard it was a fabulous evening. I know he would have loved that.

For me the day was spent in almost continuous meditation. I began at 6am in Dynamic Meditation. It was a good place to start as there’s a section of it where you can express whatever emotions you are feeling in a safe, non-judgemental environment. I have to say that even 12 months on I still can’t make sense of his passing. It just doesn’t seem right that someone so kind, so generous, so magical in his capacity to love, should be taken away from us. The world needs more Jason Woods’s, not fewer.

As the day passed my feelings shifted. Thanks to the silence and the space to just “be” I decided to celebrate the fact that I’d been blessed enough to have Jason in my life at all, rather than be miserable that he has gone. I don’t think Jason would be too happy to see his friends so sad, and just by changing the way I view what happened, has taken away a lot of the sadness I felt.

I do still wish I could pick up the phone and speak to him though.

The second “first anniversary” was yesterday. Eight days after Jason passed, so did my Dad. I hope this doesn’t sound wrong, but at least there was a logic to my Dad’s death. He was 83, he had had major heart surgery and he had more than lived a life! That’s how it’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?

Sadly logic doesn’t help me in the feelings of abandonment that I’ve been experiencing since he went. Every single day I shed a tear, and if I am totally honest, they’re not exactly tears for my Dad, they’re tears for me because he’s no longer here. I am totally alone. Things like giving a next of kin when you go into hospital, or even coming here, they needed a name to contact should I have an accident or worse, it feels strange not giving his name. In the back of my passport there are two names to contact, both are dead. When I asked at the airport a few months ago how I go about changing them, the guy said not to bother!

I know I am blessed in that I have no regrets about my Dad’s passing how and when he did. I was with him for almost the whole of the last month of his life, we laughed and I gave him the practical help he needed when he was preparing to go into hospital. I remember the night before we went over to Blackpool, him sitting in his chair and saying with more sincerity than I’d ever seen from him ‘Thank you, Jo-Anne, I don’t know what I’d have done without you”. I’m sobbing as I type this, picturing him sitting there.

I honestly had never entertained the idea that he might not survive this procedure. I took this photo of him in the hospital bed and we laughed about how in a couple of months’ time we look at it again and smile about how well he was recovering. There wasn’t a single cell of my being that imagined it would be the last ever photo I would take of him.

But it was and on 28 February 2010 I held his hand almost the entire day, talking to him even as it became impossible for him to reply, telling him I loved him, I forgave him, I was proud and lucky to have him as a father, and occasionally begging him not to die. The begging was pretty much in my head though, cos I knew he was ready. He was tired of the pain and I believe tired of life. He was a Catholic and I know he believed he would be joining my mum in Heaven, and that made it easy for him to let go.

God I hope he was right. I miss you Dad xx

As the meditations worked so well on Jason’s anniversary, I decided to do some more to help me get some peace yesterday. How bizarre though, instead of the sense of acceptance I got last week, everything I did yesterday just caused me pain. Real pain. Physical pain. No matter what position I sat, stood or laid in yesterday the entire left side of my body was in agony! I was sitting in Vipassana Meditation, where you do nothing but watch the breath, and it was like I was being stabbed all up and down my left side! Obviously I’ve never had a heart attack or a stroke, but it felt like I was having one of each, the pain was so intense. When the meditation ended I managed to get myself back to my room and have a lay down. I even napped for about 30 minutes and when I awoke it seemed to have passed. I ate lunch, went to a seminar on Inner Skills, both with no pain. Then I went to Kundalini Meditation. This one is a bit more physical with some dancing and stuff, but I thought it might shake the spasms out of me, cos I assumed it was some kind of anxiety thing. Even my life is not so ironic that I would die of a heart attack on the anniversary of my Dad’s death! As soon as it came to the sitting part again - the silent part - the pains began. Even more intense this time, my left ear was killing me as were my toes on my left foot, as well as every part in between. I just accepted it was happening and stayed till the end of the meditation.

I came back to my room, still in pain, and thought about going to the hospital down the road to get checked out but decided it was still anxiety. Maybe this is how I am meant to experience the grief today. I got into my nightie and into the bed planning just a little nap before the evening meditation. Next thing I knew it was 5.30 am today! I’d slept for around 12 hours.

How very odd this has been, I fully expected to spend the day crying, but I shed no more tears yesterday than I do every other day, I cried more this morning writing this than I did yesterday. The body, the mind, the heart....strange how they work, eh?