When you don't have to drive for eight hours between gigs there is sometimes time to have some fun. This afternoon there was time to go to see York City in the semi-final of the FA Trophy (1st leg). They were playing our arch enemies Luton (who ironically enough after my move to Harpenden have become my temporary local team). We were anticipating a tough and maybe rough game, but hoping for victory. After a strong start to the season York have hit a bit of a scrappy patch where they aren't losing too often, but aren't scoring much either.
It costs £18 to see York play, about the same as it cost to see me at the Opera House last month, but York City sold over ten times as many tickets as I did. So I must be really shit. It was a warm spring day and I enjoyed sitting amongst the old men eating meat pies that they'd brought with them from home. The light breeze blew flaky pastry down the row on to my coat and wafted the not entirely pleasant smell up my nostrils. The fans behind the goal were, as always, a little more raucous than those of us seated in the main stand, but I enjoyed their trenchant humour throughout the afternoon. It mainly revolved around calling players fat or shit, but it never got tired for me. I just loved the joy that came with the insults.
An announcer told us before the game that no discrimination would be tolerated from the crowd, though no one seemed to take notice of this and the crowd seemed to be very partisan in the favour of York, refusing to treat the Luton players equally. I was disgusted and thought about reporting them to the police.
Amongst the badinage and fun there was a sombre and moving minute's silence for the Yorkshire based servicemen killed in Afghanistan this week. The way the mood turned from shouting and fun to utter silence was quite chilling and gave me goosebumps. I've never been amongst so many people when something like this is observed and it's astonishing how much silence can say and how much can be communicated without sound.
I looked at the formerly raucous men in the stand behind the goal - now stock-still and silent. Some of them had their hands up by their heads in what looked like an army salute, but I wasn't sure if they were ex-soldiers or were just shielding their eyes from the sun that was blazing in their faces. Either way it added an extra frisson. The lads who died were all 19 or 20. Whatever you think about the politics of the situation that is horrific and tragic and I was glad to be part of this 3000+ group showing their condolences and respect.
Except for a small baby who gurgled on happily. Though just adding poignancy in its (hopefully) unconscious rebellion
A minute of silence is a long time, but once it was over the crowd were back in ebullient form, which is how it should be.
York took an early advantage when one of the cheating Luton scum handballed on the goal line and was sent off. The resulting penalty went in and we were hopeful that we might take a two or three goal advantage into the next leg, but Luton defended well and York missed out on some opportunities. In the second half another Luton player got his marching orders (if I had been the referee I would have saved some time by sending them all off in the first minute - Luton are the Slytherin of the Conference - York, alas are the Hufflepuff - I always told you they were magic), but York couldn't seem to turn their numerical advantage into goals. But Luton were pegged back and defending and didn't get a chance to score themselves. Sportingly at the end, many of the York supporters, perhaps not wanting to appear to be discriminating against Luton, booed the York team, even though they had won 1-0. It was disappointing not to have taken further advantage, but the Luton goalie had played a blinder.
I think I prefer it when I get to commentate on games that I can't actually see.
I think getting out and doing something different was a brilliant tonic for me. Perhaps I get a bit focused on the tour (it's hard not to) and with one thing and another there hasn't been much R&R or socialising this year for me. In spite of York managing to slightly depress me as always it had been a great way to escape work and the various stresses that I've been under. But seriously people of York, if you'll pay to see that, you should really come and see my shows. Though I admit I am not as funny as the men behind the goal.
I was in a bit of a rush to get to City Varieties in Leeds tonight and then got panicked when I couldn't find the venue. My sat nav wanted me to go along a pedestrianised area which didn't seem right, but no other routes seemed to work either. I got into a bit of a tizzy and the phone number I had went through to an ansaphone, but eventually I managed to speak to someone who guided me in. And I was indeed meant to go down into the no access pedestrian area and then take a sharp right down a tiny alleyway next to the Vodaphone shop.
I don't think I have played this amazing venue since the 1990s (it's been closed for refurbishment recently) when I came here with Stew. It's a gorgeous old time theatre (they filmed "The Good Old Days" here, I believe) and possibly the perfect space for comedy. A 500 seater room, with the audience well positioned on three levels. And satisfyingly I had sold it out weeks ago, suggesting that maybe I could have done two nights here instead of one.
Though it took me a while to calm down from my failure to find the venue (not helped by the fact that I got lost trying to find my car, coming through a fire door, getting shut out and then having to nip through the kitchens to get back into the venue) - my T-shirt was wet with sweat from the stress- by show time I was calmed down and hit the sloped stage (not literally) running. The shows have been going pretty well recently and I've been refining and improving the performance, but tonight I was on a new level. I am sure most of this is down to the venue and the large crowd, but I was riding laugh and trying out new subtleties which the audience seemed to go for. Tiny facial expressions were getting laughs, showing just how intimate this space was. I had a great gig in Chorley last night, at one of my favourite venues, but had again felt light-headed after the long drive, which again points up the fact that in order to do my best possible show I need to be rested and focused.
And it was a brilliant and helpful crew tonight, who took my sweat-drenched arrival in their stride, with typical Yorkshire nonchalance, but made me feel welcome. Usually I put my own programmes on the seats, but a team of (mainly) white haired ladies did it for me today.
All in all I think this was one of my favourite days of the tour so far and maybe the best show too. I hadn't had time to check into my hotel, but I arrived at 11pm and it was the icing on the cake. I had booked it because it was top of the tripadvisor rankings and sounded pretty good, but it exceeded my expectations. It was £99 a night, a bit more expensive than the Premier Inns that I've been staying in (usually £60-£70 a night), but you get a lot more. The room had a separate lounge, a small kitchen, a washing machine, a fridge with milk and bread and a few other staple foods, its own personal wifi and TV and DVD player. It was thus really a flat in the centre of the city, way nicer than an impersonal hotel room and certainly worth the extra £30. In the middle of a tour such homeliness is more than welcome. It's called
Chambers and I would highly recommend this place if you're staying in the city for a night or a few days. Tonight it felt like the best hotel I have ever slept in. It certainly sets a standard that makes other places look shoddy and a rip off.
I felt like the King of Leeds tonight. And will make it my English capital once I have attained full power (Edinburgh will be my main seat of government).
I am very grateful to my friend Toby who I went to the football with this afternoon. For the last few years I have done his gig at the Library and helped to build up my Leeds audience. This year I have moved up a step and it feels like a real achievement, though I am sad to leave his gigs behind. But he's a York City supporter so used to such disappointments. Don't worry Toby. Another five years and I suspect I'll be back at the Library!
Anyway my apartment was nice, but there was no picture of balls on sticks at sunset though. So I can only give it 4 stars.
If I die young (if that's still possible) I want to be buried in a real life mock up of that Premier Inn picture. Wrapped in satin, on a bed of Roses chocolates, sunk down in that swimming pool, in a submerged waterproof Ferrero Rocher pyramid. At sunset. Whilst women lez up.
Please make sure that happens.
