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The drive to Newcastle seemed longer than it felt it should be, but it was reassuring to finally pass the Angel of North, a fixture on my drive to Edinburgh over the last few years and a stopping off point on the final Lee and Herring tour, when it was brand new (though I erroneously remembered the wrong tour manager accompanying us, so maybe I have imagined the whole thing).
Last night’s hotel had been basic and yet (due to inflated prices in York at this time of year) one of the most expensive hotels I had ever stayed in. Today we’re in a really nice hotel that is stupidly cheap, due to Sunday offers. We got here early so stopped in the Bistro for lunch, where there was a four course set menu. It took us about three hours to get through it all (though the service was lackadaisical too) and I felt unpleasantly full - but even with this blow out, the price was still way less than yesterday’s fading Holiday Inn. And we didn’t need any dinner. And probably no breakfast tomorrow either.
Having finally got into our room, I would have loved to have slept, but also was enjoying the opportunity to spend quality time with my daughter, so I let Catie sleep as I took our rambunctious idiot (who already believes she knows better than me and is often right - today I marvelled that she’d managed to get a magnet on a fishing rod stuck to the bottom of the narrow tin it came in as it just stuck to the side when I did it. Then she revealed that she used her small hands to guide the magnet to the bottom of the tin, but that still meant she could pick it up with the little rod- GENIUS) for a walk.
When in company Phoebe is often dismissive or mildly disobedient to me, because I think, she genuinely gets the comedy dynamic that this is funny. Off on our own, with no audience she was charming, affectionate and obediently held my hand as we walked down to the Quayside. She’s getting better at communicating and parroting every day and I love chatting to her. I pointed out the blackness of the river and told her it was like treacle - “Yes,” she said “like reakle” - she has never seen treacle. Later I asked her to tell her mum what colour the river was. She was so confident that it was red that I wondered if I had made an error. But I’d have noticed that, surely.
She held my hand tightly as we crossed the Millennium Bridge. Last time I’d been here, before she was born, I had walked over this bridge at night to get the step count on the gizmo I was using at the time up to the requested 10,000 steps. It was more fun crossing the bridge, holding the hand of the person I love most in the world. I can’t imagine how I will love her brother as much. But I guess I will. But whatever happens, the lucky first child, gets months and years of love for themselves, that no sibling can ever get. So they still win. I am the youngest. So I know.
We went up and down the lifts at the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Arts a couple of times and I bought her a couple of knick knacks from the shop. She spent a disturbing few minutes putting weird little rubber hands on each of there fingers, until she had just fingers of hands. She’s better than all the artists in this place. And just going up and down in the lifts a couple of times is actually the funnest way to enjoy an art gallery. An hour with just the two of us is still a rarity. But it is one that I covet and enjoy so much. This is what it’s all about. It’s fucking tiring though.
I can’t believe that it is three years since I’ve done my usually annual final preview at the Live Theatre. It was great to be back, but it felt like yesterday. It wasn’t as sharp a performance as yesterday and I forgot a couple of good or crucial jokes. But there was some good new bits and the reception was brilliant.
It’s good when the final preview is not perfect. I need to pull my finger out of the tiny hands on each finger. But aside from some missed jokes that I wanted to call back to and a bit of a stodgy end, it’s definitely on the way. I can’t believe that I will be back at the Fringe tomorrow and starting up with the shows on Wednesday. But if I get a few more daddy/daughter times in the next month I will be very happy. I am very happy. Life is good.
I have had a Martini in the bar alone though. And though my room has a pretentious name the barman told me that it is numbered 007. The only fuck up I made was to ask for the Martini stirred, not shaken. Otherwise I am essentially the new Bond.
We've been at this point a few times together and I've been at this point a load more times without you. I haven't felt as relaxed about it before or been looking forward to getting up there, regardless of what happens.... I think it might be fun. Check back in 4 weeks.
