Yes, what could be better than getting up at 7.30am after little sleep, feeling ill and have to carry suitcases and boxes down three flights of stairs and then driving for the next eight hours?
Not much, that's what?
I was a bit spaced out but managed to drive the first 150 miles before stopping off at the first service station on the M1 for the worst breakfast I think I have ever eaten. Welcome back to England!
Two horrible and undrinkable machine made coffee, one water, one orange juice and two baps with an egg and three rashers of bacon in them, for only £20. Ketchup was extra. And because the woman in the cafe was surprised to find people wanting bacon for breakfast, we had to wait 15 minutes for the sandwiches.
It's good to be in Hell and to find out that Satan has been holding back on you some.
It was great though to be out in the real world and no longer feeling that I had to look embarrassed or apologise for what was on my face. In fact it was hard to remember that I was now tache-less. Sometimes I would see myself in the mirror and see some philtrumless, long gap between nose and mouthed bloke that I didn't recognise staring back at me.
Luckily my lovely girlfriend did the rest of the driving and I managed a little sleep. We were heading to Norwich to see some friends and made good progress. We were there by just after 5pm, but it didn't quite feel that we were any longer in the real world. I had to go and lie down. It felt like I had flown round the world. I knew I should try and stay up, but I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I was woken some time later for pizza and to watch DVDs. I already felt better.
At 8.15 I remarked that if this was any of the previous 25 days I would have been about to head upstairs to my venue. It takes a short while to get used to being out of the Fringe and then quickly it's like it never happened.
I am looking forward to sleeping for the rest of the week. Once we've done the last bit of the drive.
