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My last day with no Soleros started monumentally. I was still awake at midnight, so did today's Wordle and finally achieved the almost perfect game. Fifteen blanks (all different letters) followed by the correct answer. When it came down to go four I immediately saw Muddy was a possibility, but then luckily saw Fuzzy was there too and I felt that was a more likely Wordle word. And the rest is literally history.
Now I have only 20 blanks (of different letters) followed by the correct answer to do and I can stop playing Wordle.
I am still astonished by the number of people who think the best tactic is to play high vowel words early on. Vowels are much easier to work out at the end and to avoid falling into a trap where you have four letters and too many choices of words, you need to discount as many consonants as possible from the start. Presuming you're playing hard mode. And if you're not playing hard mode then I am really not interested in you, you baby. Grow up. Play the real game.
Kicked around Bath for an hour this morning, listening to Mark Steel's very entertaining book about having a horrible cancer. If you only buy one book by a comedian with cancer,
buy this one.
I went to look at Bath Cathedral, but you had to pay to get in and as a Christian I don't believe that is right. I thought, what would Jesus do? So I went in and smashed up every table I could find in there.
As I walked past the front of the Cathedral once the tables were smashed, I was suddenly whisked back 20+ years to when I'd come to Bath with my then girlfriend. Nothing memorable had happened here, but I guess it was the last time I was in this spot. On that trip we'd been having dinner in a restaurant when a gang of teenagers passing by had spotted me and recognised me from the TV and starting shouting at me. I can't remember all the details, but somehow they ended up in the restaurant (I have no idea why they weren't thrown out) and were a bit disruptive. I tried to ignore them, but they were doing their best to make that impossible. When I went to the loo, two of them followed me into the toilets (did this really happen) so I went in the cubicle to escape their gaze and possibly punches. I remember one of them saying something about hating it when people go into the cubicles because they're ashamed of their junk (or something like that), but they weren't looking for a fight. Just to be obnoxious. Back in the restaurant I lost my temper with them and they finally left and another diner said it was a shame that I hadn't maintained my dignified silence and had finally snapped. Was this a dream? Why didn't anyone stop this? Why would I be criticised for finally standing up to these young bullies? Why are the details so clouded in my brain?
Anyway, on to another Cathedral city, with a shorter drive to Exeter. My social media friend Moose Allain sent me a DM via Blue Sky (the first time such a thing has ever happened) to say he couldn't come to the show, but would I like to meet for coffee. I am pretty unsociable on tour and never actively seek out friends in the locality unless they get in touch (I have spent my life trying not to impose on people, but I guess it just comes off as antisocial, but my greatest fear in these situations is to be an unwanted intrusion), but it was nice to see someone outside of the context of the show.
We met at the Boston Tea Party, which I was amused to see had a sign up saying that due to a Maintenance Issue the Boston Tea Party was currently not able to serve any types of tea. Which seems to rather negate the point of their existence (though they were doing coffee still luckily). Didn't they have a kettle? Moose suggested the problem might be that they'd thrown all their tea in the harbour. I hoped that happened every day.
All this week's gigs have been very enjoyable and I've really been buzzing on stage. I felt a bit light-headed in the first half of the show (it will be ironic if this show also makes me faint), but the show must go on and the audience reaction kept me afloat. I was flying and messing around and felt like a proper stand up comedian.
Backstage the toilet smelled like cherry flavoured Tunes and the Proustian rush took me back to my Grandma's house in Middlesbrough in the 1970s and her fishing around in her handbag to give me the delicious placebo from an open pack. I decided that I would give up Tunes for March. Should be easy. I don't think I've had one since the 1980s. Do they still exist? Who remembers Spangles? Garlic Bread.
Maybe if I did this stuff on stage I'd sell out. But the 200+ I had in tonight were quality if not quantity.
And back to the hotel by 10pm which meant I had two hours to survive to complete my Solero challenge. Where could I get a Solero at midnight on a Friday night in Exeter?
I decided I would wait a bit longer and have one when I get home, which will take my abstinence to a world record breaking 29 days (as my last Solero was after lunch on the 31st January). Haven't quite hit the target yet, but be great to do it before a Solero has touched my lips and penis.
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