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I made good improvements with the new sleep technique. The morning nap was hard work, but the afternoon one only took about ten minutes and I had Ernie asleep in four minutes tonight. My reward was mid-afternoon as I hugged Ernie he bit my nipple really hard through my shirt. How he knew where it was, I don’t know, though I guess babies have a nipple guidance system. But if you’re a baby with four little teeth and want to know how to hurt someone, take this advice from my son. He’s lucky that I quite like him.
But I like my nipples more, so watch it boy.
Catie and I went out for a Thai meal in Hitchin tonight, in an almost unbearably hot restaurant, where we seemed to be in an island/vortex where the electric fans did not reach. I thought having the restaurant this hot might be a great way to sell drinks. We ordered two beers but they did not arrive. Strangely the last time we’d been out, on my birthday, another Hitchin restaurant had taken nearly half an hour to bring us our first drinks. Is this a Hitchin thing? Surely restaurants make their money on the booze - the first rule of running this kind of business should be to get the first drink to the table as soon as possible, so it will be drunk quickly and you can sell some more. After a tough day with Ernie and finding ourselves in a sauna, I could guarantee that that first beer would disappear down my throat in seconds. If it hadn’t evaporated in the bottle. Don’t these people understand how much parents need booze?
Last time there had been some hold up at the bar, but this time they’d just forgotten.
It felt like ages since we’d had Thai food. Getting to restaurants is not as easy as it was when we were in London and when we didn’t have these little nipple biters to look after.
We usually go to the same Thai restaurant on one of the first days of the Fringe, so it was nice to be doing this, even if we weren’t up there this time. I am in no way regretting the decision to have another year off. After tweeting that it was 30 years since the Oxford Revue where Keith Allen turned up on the first weekend and moved our crash mats and punched our theatre manager, the director of that show recalled that Muriel Gray had been there too (which I hadn’t recalled) and Murial tweeted this morning to apologise for her part in that incident (though she had, I believe, been trying to stop Allen being such a twat). She still ran away though.
And looks like I am going to the Edinburgh Fringe after all, but only for one night right at the end and I don’t think you can see what I’m doing unless you’re part of the TV Festival. But I am going up to talk about podcasts to the TV people and hopefully this will convince the TV people to put me on proper telly, so I can forget all this podcast nonsense. Anyway details here.
If you're a Dripster you can now download the next of my stand up shows, Headmaster’s Son. If you’re not a Dripster,
why not become one and get all kinds of brilliant extras and help us fund the podcasts. Gary Massingham, who is a Dripster, won this month’s monthly draw and will be getting a hand made T-shirt, signed scripts, DVDs and other junk. If you’re
a badger or a dripster you get entered in every monthly draw (an entry for every pound a month you donate). Good luck.
