5640/18660
I slept the sleep of the dead. Yesterday had been a tough day of travel after the comedown from the gig and a 4.45am wake up with my idiot son. The train ride to Machynlleth was ultimately beautiful but very tiring and I had gone to bed as soon as I got to my hotel at about 6, woken up at 8.30, wandered around in a confused and panicked daze and then gone back to bed at 11. And slept.
Having had no gig I was not kept awake by the adrenaline and I maybe got seven hours of uninterrupted sleep and then a couple more when I decided to forego breakfast.
This may not be interesting to most of you, but to any new parents this is sleep-based porn. Tell us more Rich. Were you sleeping face up or face down? Or were you on your side, you dirty bugger? Did you manage not to dream about the children? Go on, keep telling me, I’m nearly asleep myself. I’m nearly there. I’m nearly there. Oh, the fucking kids are fighting again….
Was it worth the strain of getting here (and getting back) for this wonderful night of sleep? I think it probably way. I certainly felt more human than I have for a while.
It was a lovely, sunny day in Wales (though I was going to be indoors most of the time) and I sat by the clocktower and wrote my blog and researched my podcast guests. A passerby on the way to my gig bought me a coffee. This is where this festival excels itself. Comedians and audience members all milling together in this little town. There can be a bit of tension with the locals, some of whom don’t like a load of stupid, fucking clowns descending on their village, but most of them, I think, recognise it’s good for business. The cashpoints had run out of money by Sunday evening and all the bars were running dry of beer.
When I’ve done the podcast here before, it’s very much been the bridesmaid to the stand up show and felt a bit awkward and strange and not been very well attended. But this year it sold out ages ago and the Tabernacle was full with excited fans. The last couple of years have seen a real sea-change with RHLSTP. And it was a delightful hour with the witty Jessica Fostekew and the mad-as-a-bucket of snakes, but brilliantly hilarious Holly Burn. The time flew by.
Afterwards I came back to the hotel and risked a lunchtime beer. And then had to lie down for two hours in the hope that I’d be sober enough for my stand up show at 5.30. This was also packed and though I had to think of my feet as I tried to work out how to make my 90 minute show fit into an hour, it somehow came together and I created a structure that worked rather well.
It wasn’t the Queen Elizabeth Hall, but it was definitely the best gig I’ve ever done in a Tabernacle.
Last night I’d been gripped by the social anxiety that I used to get heavily at the Fringe and had escaped to the security of sleep, where everyone loves me, apart from the monsters trying to rip out my heart. Tonight I had a bit of alone time, before meeting up with producer Ben to go and see Michael Legge’s extremely funny new show and then off for a couple more drinks that I should have had. I chatted with some of the younger comics for a while, but my bed was calling me. If any parents want to know what kind of sleep I got tonight then please call 0800 722 633333 for a languorous description, with a little nap in the middle.
