First blog on my new MacBook.
I went for a run around Cheddar this morning. As always I was struck by the things that have changed. They have been changed for a while, but in my head things are the same as they were 35 years ago.
The route I used to walk to school and was once all fields (well in honesty a little path and some scrub land and maybe one tatty field is now full of houses that almost tumble into each other. Someone made a lot of money selling off this scrub land.
The field to the right of the lane used to have a donkey in it when I was 8, but now there's dozens of houses there. I wondered what happened to the donkey. Where did they put him? Where is he living now?
I am not listening to you. He's still alive. Somewhere. And happy. And in no way boiled down to make glue.
On the way back up Tweentown I passed a green kissing gate that once led into a little pathway, but now stands alone as the pathway is gone. The gate no longer has its swinging part, but is just the circular shell. It's like a piece of archaeology, no longer required, but still in situ, presumably because no one can be arsed to dig it out and throw it away. But I touched it and was connected to the younger me and my friends who used to pass through this gate (with no kissing as far as I recall) back in the 1970s and 80s. A little green and broken time machine.
It is nice to be home and to have a little base here in Cheddar for most of this south western leg of the tour. It is not as lonely or desolate and I have my mum to make me a lovely home cooked dinner and to wash my show shirts. And my dad for me to be rude to like I am still the teenager who used that kissing gate.
Had a rather surreal afternoon with him, as a photographer from the Guardian came down to photograph us together. The Family section of the Saturday Guardian is running an extract from
my new book in the next couple of weeks and wanted a picture of me and dad together (why they weren't interested in the rest of the family I don't know - the piece involves them all - I think my mum was a little bit put out by the snub) for the front cover of the section.
But the shoot was somewhat compromised by the fact that I currently have a toothbrush moustache, which might seem a bit odd in this context as the extract will (of course) make no mention of why I have it. So we did some shots where we didn't worry about that, but had to try others where we attempted to hide the hairy beast, which is harder than you might imagine as it is positioned right in the middle of my face and it's hard to hide it and not what surrounds it.
So we tried a few things, like dad pointing across my face with his hand or me kneeling on the floor and peeking over the top of the table. It had been surreal enough doing these shots anyway. I've done a few double act shots in my time and it's always a bit unnatural. But stranger to be doing them with dad, who had less experience of such things and who commented he hadn't been as close to me as this since I was a baby (which suggests I was somewhat unloved as a child, but these were different times). But even stranger when he was also kneeling beside me and peeking up from beneath a table, or wearing a false Hitler tache to mirror mine. The photographer found it all very amusing and I felt sorry for him as my stupid face furniture was making his life very difficult. I think he couldn't quite believe what he was doing either. He was very impressed to learn that my dad is the reigning Cheddar Man of the Year (even he has won more awards than me). That is quite impressive though. And well deserved. He does a lot for the community. Even if he never hugged me as a child!
We will see what they end up with.
Then it was down to the Kings of Wessex to perform my show to my townsfolk. A genius is never recognised in his own home town, but I went down pretty well with the crowd, so that sorts out any doubt on my genius-ship. I think I went a bit far for them when I talked about the reasons Carol Thatcher was famous (only for coming out of someone else who was famous, is the polite way to put it), but they stuck through my swearing and tasteless jokes, but didn't, as I had hoped, turn out to be the only audience who had voted against the Maddie joke.
It was a little strange being so rude in my old school (though this theatre had not been there at the time) but I felt honoured to return to perform here and glad that people turned up and seemed to enjoy it. There were a few familiar faces in the crowd. All ravaged by time, but still here.
Like those kissing gates.
Though doubtless they will outlast us all.
