Tonight I am doing an Open Mic slot with Jo on cello at the Apples and Snakes for women. I believe the lovely Liz Bentley is MC-ing too. Liz is a joy to watch and experience if you ever get the chance. I hope we can spin a little magic for the audience too. If you're in the area do come long. I know I'm rubbish at letting people know in advance but sometimes these things spring up. It's in Brick Lane, East London - in the trendy Vibe Bar - ooo get us. Come along if you can. Meanwhile in daily...

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I've just left a comment on the editor's blog concerning the new Ian Dury film. and it made me feel a wave of nostalgia for Ian and my baby years as a punk. It was hard being a punk when so few venues had any hint of access and actually it makes me realise that some of our battles have had a real effect on waking society up to removing some barriers. This can be seen in the hard environment, more than anywhere else and attitudes remain especially slippery if not entrenched. If things were...

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Happy new year and all that. But without snow, please. Yes it's pretty. But, of course, not accessible. It makes me apathetic. I have so many projects on the go, and I feel frustrated many are stuck because there's this freeze up of the UK. Last month I was here there and everywhere inbetween being ill. I went and modelled for Tanya Raabe and we were on Paul Darke's radio show. I managed not to swear - I don't do that generally, but radio can make naughtiness pop out. Going up to Wolves again...

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I look at my last blog and wonder if there's a conspiracy against me concerning time. It really is relative. Ok I don't know what that means exactly, but I have a twinge in my guts that it's related to um, what you are doing. So, I suppose I must be happy that time is hurtling by because I've been very creative when not doing great impersonations of a Victorian In-valid with a porcelain sick bowl. Yeah, the bugs have been at me and in me, urgh, but I'm fighting the good fight. I'm juggling the...

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The Penny who needs Nine Lives to Do Everything I don't need the Nine Lives as do cats because I am reckless and have close shaves - well only a little - but because I always make a point, indeed a practice of biting off much more than I can chew. And I only have tiny cripple's jaws you understand! Liberty on Sept 5th was amazing and a little peculiar at times. I love to speculate on what the random tourists make of all these disabled people strutting their luvvie stuff in various ways. I won't...

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I know I said there'd be more Edinburgh and there will be before this blog is done and dusted but you see Liberty rushes closer and I still haven't 100% decided on my set. But I am very excited, like a kitten who keeps running up the curtains, sort of, and falls off but doesn't care and does it again. And again. Honestly it's best I stay in and don't scare the Norms when I'm like this but not this weekend!  I'm doing 25 minutes with my lovely cello player Jo Cox and I do hope the crowd will...

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Oh bum. Big bums. Double big bums. I wrote a fantastic blog, I really did and guess what? I clicked back by mistake and it vanished. As I sit here crying and laughing simultaneously, there's a lesson for you all. For fuck sake always save. I should know better. But I guess I never will. Anyhow, not long back from a four day frenzy in Edinburgh. At Fringe universe, which is a parallel universe where there is no time, it's not even relative, except as to whether it's drinking time or eating time....

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Oh how does time manage to do that thing of flying by so fast? Is it really over a month since my last blog? I am naughty but my reasons are sound. Since then, I've been to the Shape disability arts debate, organised by the lovely Michele Taylor, the BBC to yak about casting, and to the launch of Hibiscus Red at the BFI. There's also been exciting developments with a new PC, though sadly I am now immersed in playing with a toy - Music Maker, which takes me back to my days as a singer...

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I'm buzzing and giggling. 11 pm and I've dropped off Jo Cox, my cellist, who plays musical accompaniment to my spoken word. It went rather well and I have that sense of satisfaction spreading a warm happy glow about my being, that feeling of knowing when you've done something you are meant to do, what you are about. And that it was thankfully, rather marvellous. Dialzero is an artists' collective (www.dialzero.org/news/html) currently curating an exhibition and performance evenings at Ada...

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One reason for my lack of blog has been a period of intense activity in all the multiplying strands of my life. Things have always rolled through peaks and troughs for me, and in the last few months this has never been more true. I wrote about Independent Living Funds. The powerlessness these enforced 'social care' systems can impose on us. At a personal level, this has now had some closure, but I am more aware at how others battle on and how those who can speak out, must. These human rights to...

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I remain creative and really pleased with my progress on many projects. But over the last month all efforts and actions have more or less been consigned to the bin of wasted effort. I'm fighting Them. The faceless indifferent Them. It is horrible, undermining, and frightening to be in this battle. At this point They come in the form of ILF. Independent Living Funds. Some of you will know about ILF, many will not. In essence, ILF contribute to the costs, shared with my local authority, that...

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Julie Walters starred in a one-off drama on BBC One on 25 January, inspired by the true story of Dr Anne Turner, who in 2006 took her own life in a Zurich clinic having developed an incurable degenerative disease. It's a cliched beginning. Moving, moody, pity-inducing music. Man in wheelchair, eyes sad. Immobility. Comments fly - he's suffering, he's 'reduced to this'.  This is Dr Anne Turner's husband. He dies after the first 5 minutes of some 'neurological' issue. When Anne gets PSP, we're...

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I hope our charming editor will allow me to plug my latest baby, which is my spoken word set. 'Pains and Pleasures' – An adaptable portmanteau of spoken word performance and readings by Penny Pepper – reflective – provocative – witty – passionate – burlesque'. I can send the flyer around to anyone interested? I am super keen to GET OUT THERE again, and remind people I am here and wanting to connect, amuse and provoke. Come on, ask, book me, I am friendly and...

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My lovely therapist is worried I am reeling into an extreme high. I am sometimes exhausted and need post-it notes to remind me when meal times are, but I can't say I hate it. I love it. The creativity tap is on full and my bath of ideas has over flown and streams into the world. Oooh, a soggy metaphor, but I'm keeping it.

There is so much to write. So much to do, so much to Be. I don't want to think about downers.

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I cold called some literary agents. This is a very scary thing to do. The hope is that you can slip into a natural cheeky charm and they will remember who you are when your manuscript plops through their letterbox. I say, 'there is no one like me and no novel like Fancy Nancy'. I believe it. You have to. A few agents get excited but point out they are receiving up to 300 novels a week. I tell myself quietly mine will be at the top of the pile and there will be a bidding war over it.

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I woke up really late (no, not a hang over) and forgot it was New Year's day. Anyone else have those moments? My cat was, as usual, trying to sleep on my head and had made a bed in my hair. But I sprung into action quickly when I saw the sunshine and remembered I had a novel called Fancy Nancy in my front room. As in MY novel, in manuscript form, neatly arranged in chapters on my sofa. It's embarrassing to tell you that Fancy Nancy first appeared in my head and on paper - 1st draft –...

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A cold and frosty morning, I've just got in after a trip on the bus. Oh my God. The world is strange and dark at the moment. The reaction of other passengers is starting to make me paranoid that herds of Dignitas death squads are lurking on every corner - and every seat of the no 19. It's not just about grumpy Londoners doing what they love (moaning), it's bordering on a serious hatred of 'the disabled'. How often of late have I heard mutterings about 'shouldn't let 'em on, it's a nuisance,...

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Did anyone see Special Needs Pets on Channel 4s Cutting Edge the other day? We can usually expect reasonable quality from Cutting Edge documentaries, but this had that snide sniggering quality that infects a lot of TV these days. It's all so, so funny; look at the wobbly dog falling over, the cat having his bowel's squeezed empty, the bunny with dodgy back legs, and the obsessive behaviour of a sexually confused parrot. And never mind the pets, let's laugh at the oddball, saddo owners, more...

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Earlier I listened to Liz Carr on Radio 5 Live, fighting the corner for our right to live, gamely, in the face of an arrogant paralysed Noel Martin insisting he will do the deathly deed on himself before he's 50. (Great publicity though, especially as he keeps postponing it). If society goes much further down this line of argument, can we look to the day when there's a campaign to put down Prof Steven Hawking? Poor waste of space, clearly a tragedy, he can't have much quality of life. I mean,...

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It's hard to believe that three weeks ago I was setting off in the happy Autumn sunshine to film a pitch in Hoxton Square. Oh look, another TV documentary about sex and disability. And they want me to be the gravitas. Dearie, dearie me, how things do not change. A shame the TV company managed to send an ambulance (yes, ambulance) to whisk me to the shoot. I sat, cardboard bed pans inches from my bigged up hair and reflected on how I could explain to my mum that this was not glamourous in the...

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