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Oh my giddy aunt, if I can get through this week then I can get through anything. So much to pack, so much to sort out and then in the middle of it all my forties come to an end.
I woke up at 3.30 this morning, for no good reason and had to lie in bed for three hours, waiting for my daughter to wake up, so she could play with me. Somehow I wasn’t wiped out by the end of the day. I wonder if I am already dead.
Today at least was the fun part of the week, talking to two Brians who have given up drinking on RHLSTP. It was good to see Brian “Limmy” Limmond again, but also to have a chance to read some of his new book, “That’s Your Lot”. This man is a brilliant writer with a warped but fertile imagination who can grip you with an idea and a character within seconds, have you laughing and thinking and then just deliberately throw the whole thing away. It’s thrilling to read and highly recommend. The other guest was Brian “Arthur” Smith who nearly died due to his love of boozing and whose punishment for survival was to never be able to drink again. He’s one of my comedy heroes, despite a few weird run ins at the Fringe - I saw him propping up a bar in 1987 looking sad and wondered if this was the fate that awaited me if I succeeded in my chosen career (it was) and then my abiding memory of us dying on stage at Late n Live in 1988 was him laughing at us (in the wrong way) as he made his way to his seat to watch us die. In Arthur Smith’s Hamlet, my recently ex-girlfriend Sally Phillips had chosen to vent her displeasure with a thinly veiled attack on me.
But I don’t care about any of that. I love Arthur and think he is a true Fringe hero and I’ve loved all his shows (even the Hamlet one) and his huge spectacle in the Botanical Gardens in 1998 remains my favourite Fringe show ever.
Plus his dad was in Colditz. So what’s not to like.
He told some great stories and Limmy was also amazing value. Before heading off to enjoy a night at the Travelodge on his own, eating porridge out of a cup.
I went home to prepare for the last full day of my forties. Which I did by staying up too late and drinking 18 year old whiskey. And waiting for the adrenaline to wear off.
I wonder what adventures will await me in the next decade. Though feeling the way I did by the end of the day I wouldn't have risked betting on reaching 50.
