I was visiting a friend at the Chelsea and Westminster hospital, a futuristic looking facility which (like the Lloyds building) reminded me a bit of a Terry Gilliam vision of what is to come. It's all glass and metal and high walkways with strange pieced of modern art dotted around. To be fair it's much nicer than most hospitals and that's what makes it feel wrong. It felt clean and new and well organised and seemed to treat its patients with some respect. This is not the British way. This could only happen in a dystopian future where health becomes an efficiently run business.
I was having coffee in the Costa cafe in the foyer, looking up at a piece of art that was two or three floors tall and looked a bit like a big red ball balanced on top of a peeled banana. Perhaps that was what it was meant to be. I wasn't averse to it being there, I just didn't really understand what it was.
There was also an upright piano against the wall and I slowly became aware that someone was playing it and rather well. Famous songs from the fifties drifted up into the high ceiling of the building, giving the whole thing an even more eerie taste of the film "Brazil". The juxtaposition of these old tunes and this futuristic building was both strange and rather lovely.
I looked over to see who was playing and it was a white-haired man in an anorak with his walking stick resting on the corner of the keyboard just beyond the high notes. He was of professional standard, but my guess was that he was not employed by the hospital. He was just a pianist who had seen a piano and decided to play. And amongst the solemnity of a hospital this was a little island of melancholy joy. He came to the end of one song and I wanted to applaud, but it seemed inappropriate, like shouting in a library or farting in church. And no one else applauded or even really seemed to notice and the pianist selected a different tune and played on. He didn't need applause. The music was his gift and his reward. Like a radiator emitting hope in a large draughty hall, next to a banana with a ball on it. I am becoming more and more of the opinion that the best art lives and dies in the moment: a laugh, a tear, an old tune played by a man with a walking stick in an unexpected place. Life and death side by side.
I left the hospital at about 3 and as the day was dry, if cold I decided to walk into town (where I was doing my last podcast of the series). It was about a 60 minute walk from the hospital to Piccadilly Circus. If you've got the time this is really the best way to get around this city.
The podcast was tremendous fun. My guest was Russell Howard who I've been a big fan of since 2005 when I happened to do quite a few gigs with him.
This gig at Lincoln University is typical of the magic and mayhem that he could conjure up and demonstrates that even then he was building up a dedicated fan base. He was an act who was sometimes impossible to follow and it annoys me that he is sometimes written off for being young or good-looking (he's 32 and he's got a right odd chipmunk face for a start) or for lacking edge as one of the internet comments I found about him (and then slightly cruelly read out to him). He's one of the best and most unpredictable stand-ups in the country and maybe his TV show doesn't allow him to show off his full range (but whose TV show does? It's all panel shows and clip shows these days, with only Stewart Lee being given license to do roughly what he does live), but I suspect most of his detractors don't like him for what they perceive or imagine him to be or because they think he just appeals to a certain demographic. But he's all about the comedy and very down to earth and surprisingly sensitive (in a good way). I know him quite well and knew the chat would be fun and also that I could push things a little bit with him. I asked about the Haribo, I asked about Stewart Lee's routine about him and we got into a few dark and weird places (aided by a lively audience with a few eccentric individuals). Plus there was a surprise guest, but I don't want to ruin that for you. It will be up on Tuesday afternoon in the usual places.
I have massively enjoyed all the Leicester Square Theatre podcasts and this series especially. It's a simple but rewarding format and as long as people keep coming to see it and top comedians are so willing to be generous with their time and talent then I hope it can run and run. There are loose plans to do more in the summer. Thanks for all the support with this. As always if you can't get along to see it live and appreciate it being free, then buying a DVD or a tour ticket would be payment enough. Or even just telling a like-minded friend to download it. It's something special and it is what it is. As the old man on the piano shows it's not how many people you reach, it's what effect you have on the ones that encounter you.
