I popped into Caffe Nero just after midday and queued for a good five minutes whilst complicated orders were fulfilled in front of me. Though people usually queue along the counter, a family waiting for their drinks were standing on the right and so the line was forced to come out at right angles from the counter back towards the door. Once the family moved I tried to restore order by moving to the more usual place, but none of the people behind me followed.
I sensed that the old guy behind me was manouevering himself into position to be served next. But he'd been standing behind me for a few minutes and must have been aware of my presence, though might have thought I was with the woman in front. But whatever the case as the barista became free and looked for the next customer this man moved forward to be served. I was a little cross to be usurped after such a wait and moved towards the front saying "Excuse me, I was first" slightly indignantly and squeezed up to the bar, using the back of my outstretched hand to assist me in making it into the gap.
The man started apologising, but then suddenly turned aggressive, "Don't you dare push me, you twat" he blustered in a Liverpudlian accent. "I didn't push you, pal," I responded, my hackles already rising, "You were pushing in and I was just getting my place back."
The man was balding, with glasses and probably in his mid to late 50s, but looked wirey and hard-faced, like he had been a big man in the past. A nasty argument ensued with a lot of name-calling on both sides and I was angry with this interloper for trying to turn the situation on me. I had lightly touched him whilst trying to get to the front and in no way pushed him, but he had decided to make a big territorial thing of this. I may have called him a cunt, as everyone else tried to pretend nothing was going on and my drink was being prepared. I told him it was a good job he wasn't twenty years younger and he asked me why that was and I told him it just was, as I tried to release the aggression that I was feeling by tapping my palm on the counter top. It felt like there might be a fight, which is not something I really wanted to get into at midday on a Sunday over such a trivial issue. It was not lost on me that the man was from Liverpool,
the scene of the one and only major fight of my adult life and I wondered what it was that Scousers have against me. I was angry with this man for becoming so readily aggressive when he was the transgressor and discombobulated and part of me was gearing up to show him what a push from me would really be like and I was tempted to throw my coffee all over his belligerent old man face, but luckily I kept it in perspective and just took my drink to a table and hoped he would leave it. Luckily he did, even though I had worried he might be forced to sit at the empty table next to mine.
Luckily he didn't and I was glad that as the adrenalin faded that I hadn't done anything stupid, slightly ashamed of my rudeness and slightly amused, wondering if the 5th anniversary of Warming Up would be marked with any more incidents that were essential parodies of more notable entries. Would I slip in a big pool of yoghurt perhaps or be knocked off my feet by a sk8erboi?
The whole incident slightly ruined my day, leaving me in a bad mood, though I was cheered later by a lovely packed gig at the Komedia.
Perhaps I was also a little maudlin thinking about the passage of time. Five years have gone by since I started this and inevitably I took stock a little. This ridiculous enterprise covers an eighth of my life. It's slightly disconcerting to think of all that time have evaporated and trying to work out what I have achieved in those fallen years. There have been some big changes, I guess, and things are generally moving in the right direction. For example if five years ago you had told me I would be doing stand up in front of 300 people and be calm and confident and making them laugh then I would have found it very hard to believe. Work at least is moving in the right direction, though I haven't really overcome the writer's block and procrastination that was one of the causes of all this (but can a man who has written something every day for this period of time really be said to have writer's block?). But Warming Up has been a great exercise for me. It certainly had the unexpected consequence of providing me with a lot of stand up material and it's reminded a small but (mainly) loyal gaggle of followers that I exist. It means a lot to me that so many of you have written to me to congratulate me on this achievement and to tell me how it entertains you. Thanks for coming along. It's been
quite good.
I don't know how long I will carry on with this, but then again I have no real plans to stop. Maybe soon I shall make good on my threats not to do it every single fucking day. But maybe I should get to the full decade before being so impetuous. Hope you'll carry on reading.
Will do my best to announce the main prize winners from the 5th anniversary draw in tomorrow's entry, but no promises and veyr busy so might not get stuff out to you very quickly. As I write you still have 45 minutes to get your fiver in. Go on. Show me you care. I am only doing this because I am needy for your love.
