4889/17809
Late to bed and early to rise makes a man ill, and stupid. Annoyingly once again I had been woken up through the night not by my baby (who slept like a baby that was sleeping well), but by my old man’s bladder. Fair to say that I was knackered as I took charge of the stupid infant from seven til eleven. But even so we had lots of fun, laughing and chasing and tickling. What a tonic this bundle of energy is. And she’s a satirist in the making. In my bedroom she started moving my pens from a cup on my bedside table into my bedside lamp. She didn’t know she was satirising the adult world, but she was. To her mind the lamp with its cuboid shade with the hole in the top looked like a place that you would store pens (whatever they were). Where I saw a light she saw a container. And she was so pleased with herself.
I left the pens in there and it makes me laugh every time I see it. It’s a great joke on her part. I never really mind a mess, but I love a mess left behind by my daughter. It means she’s in the room even when she’s not. She’s a little whirlwind spinning through my house and my life.
I went back to bed once she was having her nap but didn’t sleep enough, leaving me in a splurgy blur for the rest of the day. We had a tricky journey to Bath, with a couple of accidents on the M4 delaying us by ninety minutes. At one point a convoy of armour plated cars and police cars passed us heading east. We thought it might have been President Obama, but then heard on the radio that he’d just arrived at Downing St, so who knows which dignitary demanded all those bells and whistles. I’d have been surprised if they’d risked putting the most powerful man in the world on to the M4. The danger of a traffic jam and someone being able to walk up and slap him through his car window was just too much risk.
Finally we arrived at the Bath Komedia. This is one of the venues I’ve regularly played and I always get that slightly weird time-shift as I walk in again. I wonder how many times I’ve played here. I wonder how many more times.
It seemed to be fuller than usual and the audience were good. I felt strange on stage, with a bit of lag on my brain that possibly improved my timing (though probably not). I didn’t feel like I was really there as I waded through mental treacle, but the show ran itself and the audience slapped me round the face until I more or less came round. In the second half my weary bones were hurting and I wondered if I might collapse, but I will keep pushing myself forwards until this kills me (and to be fair, it might). I had fun with the crowd and was offensive to them on purpose and by accident, but they seemed to like it. I could see a couple in one of the middle rows were snogging, so you know, this show is an aphrodisiac, even when I am punchdrunk and stumbling to the end.
The journey home was easier. Thank goodness for Giles. I don’t think I would have made it either way today.
This has been the cruellest month on tour. But now only 14 shows left. Five of them in April. Maybe less if the show defeats me.
