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My optimism about moving soon might have been misplaced, but even so we’re attempting to declutter the house and begin the long packing process. Today we cleared a lot of our junk from our guest bedroom and moved a few bits and pieces around and it’s mildly terrifying to see how many boxes are taken up from this one room. I have accrued a lot of stuff in my life and find it hard to throw things away. Though I suspect that nearly everything I packed up today will never be used again and just be thrown away by whoever has to deal with my affairs when I am no longer capable.
I had an extraordinarily long phone interview with a lady from the Telegraph, ostensibly to promote my tour, but for one of those features that are used for newspaper filler. She’d already talked to me yesterday for a piece about my six favourite books for the Express and she must have enjoyed that so much that she wanted to find out more. Her list of questions was more than extensive and I gave long answers to each one, mainly at her prompting. If they printed all of this it would run to several pages of the newspaper, which I imagine is not going to be the case. So why she wanted so much detail I don’t know. I know that it will take up 200 words and my long stories of travel horrors and holiday heaven will be truncated and ruined. Even she seemed to admit that the question about travel grooming tips was a bit of a dud and I thought it best not to chastise her for wanting to know how to groom people. I wondered if this was a situationalist prank or a piece of modern art. How long would I answer her questions politely before I cracked? If that was the game, then I outlasted her and answered to the best of my abilities til the end, dredging up stories of childhood holidays on the Isle of Arran, inter railing disasters, the nightmare holiday in Barbados with a crazy girlfriend who had secretly been proposed to by someone else the night before we left, who was ringing her potential fiancee daily (at my expense) and where I was hit by a wave, landed on my head in shallow water and somehow still managed to damage my testicles. That holiday, weirdly, also included what I considered (on the spur of the moment during this phone call) my best ever meal on holiday. It was a really excellent lobster and mash that I had at least four times in the week I was there. It provided some comfort for my aching balls. Which acted as an altimeter on the flight home. Or whatever measure atmospheric pressure. It was a poor superhero power to have and only lasted for a short time.
The trip home from Camp America was also on my mind, but this long story of how I managed to get from Florida to Cheddar with 100 dollars and 9 days til my flight can surely only be given lip service in an article like this. And be told wrong. Well we’ll see. The journalist was very charming and seems like a nice person and I had fun talking to her. I just wondered why she wanted so much stuff. Perhaps she’s secretly writing an unauthorised biography of me and needs to know why I look so well groomed in my holiday photos? If so, then good luck to her. The amount of money she’ll make from that book will put her below minimum wage for the hour we spent chatting.
It was exhausting just talking about travelling and I felt like I’d been round the world by the end of it. But I had to get up and put all the boxes of books that I’d already read or would never read into my car.
Frame 73 of Me1 vs Me2 Snooker is now up on the British Comedy Guide and iTunes. It's the worst one yet. Guaranteed. Or your money back.
