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Ernie was going to a birthday party with his mum and Phoebe had a friend over, so I spent most of my day in the company of two loquacious 10-year-old girls, which was an odd and sometimes overwhelming experience. As a dad in this situation you are really only there as a ghost bodyguard: there to make sure no harm comes to them, but basically invisible and unaddressed, except when it's time to pay for something.
That suits all parties. The kind of sprawling conversations that ten-year-olds have are really something that you will want to tune out of if you're over eleven. As a ghost bodyguard you're supposed to tune out too. Dad isn't really there. He's only there because both parties are just too young to do this alone. As a writer maybe I should have tuned in so that I can understand the thought process of youngsters. But as a person I was delighted to not really have to listen to anything unless I was directly addressed. The snatches that drifted through my crap net were almost unintelligible anyway. Even so it felt good to see my little girl making these first steps towards being independent. They were smart, silly, grown up and childish, cocky and insecure. They were human.
Back into town for the second night at Richard Herring's Leicester Sq Theatre. It is not yet named after me, even after our long association, and I may have to accept that it never will be. London and public transport was packed with Newcastle United fans, on the town the night before their cup final. It felt like everyone from Newcastle was in London tonight and tube passages were blocked and trains were full of men singing and shouting when they saw other men in the right colours. Which was all the time.
There were no Liverpool fans at all. Were they just coming down on the day of the match? Had there been some kind of agreement made that London belonged to the Geordies tonight. Where were they all staying? Why were they clogging up the city?
I don't have the answers.
I managed to get to the theatre and saw Mickey Flanagan nipping out the back door of the theatre, wearing a bucket hat to keep himself anonymous. I required no anonymity. I am luckier than I know. He'd done a warm up show just before mine and doubtless filled the place. I had a few more in than last night and they were another good lot. I had what felt like the start of a cold or a bad throat, but aside from having to drink more water it didn't affect things too much.
I got home with the tubes still infested by Geordies - maybe they planned to stay awake on the underground network until the match started. I shared smiles with fellow passengers about the cheeky antics of the fans, mainly enjoying them, but with the mutual sense of fear of what could happen if the exuberance transformed into violence. I was drinking a can of water and dropped it bumped against the suit case that Right Bollock was travelling in, but landed on its base and barely a drop was spilled. It was like a magic trick and everyone who saw it purred with delight. That never happens. I picked up the can and drank the remaining water.
Phoebe's pal was staying over for a sleepover and even though I wasn't home until 10.30pm, they were still up when I got home. I got them some snacks and then made sure they got into their sleeping bags and tried to sleep and hoped that there would be no vice versa kind of scenario going on tonight (had the magic can been a sign of more magic to come?) I am not delighted to be 57 but I already know that I don't want to be a 10 year old again. I really have no desire to see the world from my daughter's perspective and I don't need to learn that her life is as tough as mine, just in different ways. An afternoon in the same room as 10 year old girls was enough to make me know that I didn't need to live as one in order to eventually change back and appreciate my life more.
I appreciate my life fine.
I love it. For all its flaws and mild disappointments. It's finely balanced in a sweet spot right now. My show is all about how great it was not to die and how I appreciate these extra days and years, and being a ghost bodyguard today was much better than just being the ghost I might have been.
