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Third day in a row up at 5.30am with my son, but every time feeling like that was something of a triumph, as he’d barely woken up in the night. It’s amazing how much you can get done if you get up this early. My wife’s had some deserved lie-ins (you know til about 7.30am), so I managed to make the kids breakfasts, get one of them dressed, have some cereal myself, unload the dishwasher, get started on cooking a bean pie for lunch and go to the supermarket and be home again to finish lunch all by 9.30am. If I had no wife and kids I would still have been in bed at this time. Or more likely in a hole in the ground. But they will put me in a hole in the ground soon enough.
I was in a different venue than usual in Aldershot. Usually I am in the wonderful West End Centre and I’ve always said I will go to them as long as they want me, but because we were trying to consolidate all the gigs in this area into one big gig, I ended up being booked into the Princes Theatre instead and didn’t notice until it was too late.
As it turned out the consolidation didn’t work. I got exactly the same number of people as I usually do. It turns out people will come to a gig in their own town, but not travel. I felt bad to be missing out on returning to the West End Centre. I’ve done all of my shows so far this millennia there and it’s always been the same team. Sorry guys. I’d say I’d be back next year, but I don’t think I will be touring next year. I am sure it won’t be the last time. Tonight showed that my delusions of Aldershot grandeur were misplaced
Aldershot wasn’t a huge drive, but it took it out of me. With my book deadline looming (I was supposed to complete the draft today, but I think I will get away with delivering on Monday) I could really have done with having my tour manager with me, so I could work in the car and in the dressing room as he set up. But I managed to do a little bit in Prezzo as I had my dinner. The people of Aldershot did not happy, but they looked a lot more happy than they should have done.
My sheet said the show started at 8pm and so I thought I had enough time for my food to go down. But I checked the website just as I waited for an il-advised pudding to arrive and realised it was a 7.30 start time. I had about 15 minutes for my food to go down. I had eaten too much and it was very hot in the venue and I hadn’t really had time to get my head in the game. My day and been extremely long already and I was light-headed and bilious and didn’t feel good. I am likely to check out on stage or on the journey to or from a gig. That’s just maths. And tonight I felt my age, plus the fatigue of the tour and fatherhood and too much extra work.
During the interval I couldn’t clear my throat properly and started dry-retching. I would quite liked to have been sick, but I didn’t manage it. And the show must go on. I told the stage manager to stick a bucket in the wings and I hoped for the best.
I felt a bit better in the second half, but it was a sweaty struggle. Thank God this tour is nearly over. This was my punishment for leaving Jules and the rest of them behind. Never again.
