I don't want to live at the Holiday Inn any more. A load of American students are staying there this weekend (I think they might be part of a marching band or something, but it's just an educated guess) and when I came down for my early breakfast the room was full of them and it was all but impossible to get to any of the actual food in the small self-serve serving area. I managed to get some Crunchy Nut cornflakes (I am very influenced by Robert Webb and will buy or consume anything that he recommends - I trust him, why would he lie?) and some milk and eventually got to the cutlery tray for a spoon. But the queue for the coffee machine was too long and I couldn't get to anything else, so I just ate my cereal and then got out of there. Eight o clock in the morning is too early to have to deal with a two or three dozen American teenagers.
And there was coffee elsewhere in the world. I went elsewhere.
I had been worried my ludicrously expensive train (over £100 for a regular single, booked a few weeks in advance) would be delayed by Sunday engineering works and I might not back in time for my Lyric gig.
As it happened it was a smooth trip, the carriage was not too packed and as I commented yesterday the internet access and plugs were working (which is better than I got for the first class ticket back from Glasgow last month that cost practically half of what I paid for this one - what's going on?) I even got some work done.
It could have gone horribly awry as a mother and her young five year old son were sitting opposite me, but though he had a cheeky glint in his eye and a little toy that made just made a clicking sound and did nothing else, which I worried he would play with for the whole journey, he was actually very well behaved and amusing rather than annoying. Mind you, if I had had a hangover I might have felt differently.
His dad was there to see them off in Edinburgh and the boy was very sweet, trying to talk to him through the glass. "I love you, dad," he told him repeatedly, which I think the father managed to lip read. That's sweet. I would like it if a five year old boy told me he loved me. But you know, only if I was his dad. I'm not strange. The strings that still keep my diseased and shrunken heart tied into my rib cage were tugged on a little. Luckily, my heart feels nothing, as it is nothing but dark matter shrunk to the size of a pea. I just had something in my eye, all right?
The journey passed quickly and I got a good distance through the second draft of the book version of Warming Up - part one. It's fun to relive the events of five years ago. Five years? Can you believe it? I am very close to my 2000th consecutive entry (ignore the numbers ascribed to each entry - they are slightly out).
So I was home well in time for the gig and even managed to get in another swim before I got there. I am super fit. And the gig was another cracker. I don't think I was as funny as last week, or at least the crowd didn't warm to me quite as quickly, but I felt incredibly relaxed on stage, happy just to chat and see what came out. Which is a positive step forward. And all the comics played blinders: fantastic work from Wil Hodgson, Pappy's Fun Club, Holly Walsh and a bearded and brooding Sean Hughes. If you weren't there you missed a treat. Come to the next one on the 18th May and save yourself from being berated again.
