I am, as I said, officially off sick, so all day I stuck to both the letter and the spirit: stayed in bed till 12 dozing and reading, went to the shop in my slippers for eggs so M could augment the protein content of lunch, did a smidgeon of work for one of my favourite colleagues, read the Guardian on the sofa and dozed a bit more.
But tonight was the night PJ graced us with her presence, so come 7 I dressed up to show off my blood test bruises (left) and bravely walked down the hill with the boys to see one of England's finest rock stars play one of England's finest venues.
I don't have words for her fabulousness. Physically, she is tiny but anything but unassuming: she was wearing a little yellow dress, high red heels, big black hair and a huge Z-shaped guitar. She does primary colours and minor chords. She's a year older than me and easily the coolest female member of my cohort.
By that statement I am not necessarily saying that the coolest member of my cohort is male -- that's up for debate -- but she is an almost uniquely cool woman performer in the sense that if every man on earth were wiped out tomorrow by an act of god, I don't believe her stage persona would change one iota. (Though she'd have to get a new band.) She's a girl, for sure, and that shapes her music, maybe even defines it, but she doesn't let it limit it.
She makes me feel like a natural woman.
Less gender-obsessed but equally gushing review from the BBC here.
joella
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