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Monday 22nd February 2021

This is all a bit like shitty Christmas. Full of anticipation for something that won’t be very nice. 
Two more sleeps. Has he been?
If Santa cut bits out of every one in a hundred children then that would add some much needed jeopardy to the event. You’ve been naughty? I get your liver.

I wonder if there’s an equivalent to the tooth fairy for what I am losing.
And what’s the exchange rate? Must be better than for teeth which are ten a penny and come out all the time. I’m losing something that humans have (on average) one each. And mostly they don’t come out. The fairy for this is going to be desperate or grateful.
Have I just come up with an idea for a great kids’ book?
I will leave it under my pillow on Wednesday night just in case.

I will write about this a bit less cryptically (though, come on) once it’s over. 

I seemed to have a mini desire to get things in order before I am forced to take things easy and did some tidying and hoovering and even a bit of gardening (though it was mainly clearing up cat poo). The dog is staying with the inlaws for a little while and it’s crazy how much easier that makes things. We were crazy to take on a dog when we were also moving, renovating and having a human baby, but I am glad we did it. But just as I am very happy to have kids, that doesn’t mean it’s not a huge relief when someone else looks after them for a bit.

That will all be returning in a few months if Boris Johnson can be trusted (and there is nothing in his past to make me think he is dishonest). Are we going to get a relatively normal summer? Will anything in may life be markedly different if we do? The possibility of doing gigs or going to restaurants and cafes or browsing in shops is tantalising and yet I am so conditioned to lockdown now that I slightly fear it. I guess I wasn’t socialising much beforehand.
But doing shows in front of an actual audience. I guess that would be something. Though I’ve got used to finishing my show and then going downstairs to bed. It all seems like a lot of hard work to do anything else.

Despite some technical difficulties I managed to get the second round of the winter self-playing snooker tournament underway. Our system had reset itself so we had no sound or scoreboard, but Chris Evans (not that one) came to the rescue and we got enough stuff working to do the broadcast. The snooker board also seems to have warped even more than usual, but that just means the players have to be more skilled. So-called professional snooker players (who play against other people in a sick parody of the original game) claim to be adept, but anyone can play on a perfectly flat and predictable surface. Try playing on a board that buckles and where the cushions have next to no bounce and where balls can fly off at any angle. Me3 was playing, one of only two players in the final sixteen who have previously reached a semi-final (no former finalists made it past the first round). Would he make the quarters or would another big scalp be claimed? The form book has been ripped up in this tournament. To be honest you might as well be flipping a coin. It’s that random.
Not sure when I will be agile enough to return to the old green board. Two weeks at the earliest, but I might have to rest up longer than that. I am hoping I can still manage to do sedentary RHLSTPs but this week’s with Mary Lynn Rajskub is on Tuesday night at 8pm. I will be in hospital about seven hours after that’s finished.

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