Margo

IT'S a very odd thing writing your life story. First of all you feel that you have a bit of a cheek in thinking that anyone would want to read it, let alone pay for the 'pleasure' of doing so.

Suddenly, all aspects of your life are in the public domain, and do you want that? I mean, it's no good you saying 'Oh, I didn't' when it's there for all to see.

Anyway it's too late to start feeling nervous now, and worse things happen at sea.

I WAS in Birmingham at the weekend, discussing a TV project. I tell you, that is a city, and far too big for my taste.

Driving from the studio to the hotel I got lost and the people waiting there for me said: (thank heavens for my mobile) 'Margo, you stay where you are and we will send a taxi and you can drive back here behind him.'

I felt like a damsel in distress - well, more like a fool really. But was I glad to see him.

The reason Birmingham was so busy and the traffic so bad, was because it was 30 years to the day since the IRA bombed a big town centre pub.

Thirty years. I remember it very well, for after that, we had a long period at the discos of searching all handbags, haversacks and big overcoats just in case.

People are so odd, so matter-of-fact. Once, when we were at the Lodestar, we got a phone call saying there was a bomb in the building.

I immediately told staff to clear the premises and then I rang the police for instructions. 'It's up to you love. Whether you bother evacuating or not, do you think it's a hoax?'

I can tell you that was a risk I was not prepared to take. But times change. Things were very much different when a few years ago Blackburn had a bomb scare one Saturday night. The town centre was closed off to ensure public safety.

However, persuading my punters that night to leave the dance floor, let alone the building, was another matter. We literally had to shove them out, with them still grumbling, 'Hey! I've not finished my drink.'

Thank heavens it was a hoax. How sick can you get?

Later on it happened again, and we had yet another 'alarm'. I couldn't believe my ears when one of the older customers said to me, 'Na then, Margo I do hope this isn't going to be a false alarm like last time.'

IT has been very cold and very wet, and last Wednesday, it seemed in keeping with the sad way I felt. I was at Pleasington Cemetery attending the funeral of Jeannette De'laney who was far too young to die.

It makes you realise just how fragile and transitory life is. Far, far too short to worry about trivialities. So we must spend it well, take advantage of the moment, don't keep on thinking, 'Oh I can do that later, I can do that next year.' For, like Jeannette, we might not be able to.

So you do it now!