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An early morning jaunt into London to appear on the Chris Moyles show. Remarkably I haven't spoken to him since the mid-90s, yet I weirdly quite vividly (for an aphantasiac) remember that first time. He was sitting on a stairwell for some reason and he had one of his finger nails painted. He wasn't yet a superstar DJ. Probably because of the finger nail. But I don't remember anyone else who interviewed us around that time, so maybe he should have stuck with the finger nail.
The train journey was not as horrific as I had expected but I may have been slightly earlier than rush hour. I had to lean against the luggage rack, but it wasn't uncomfortably full, at least to begin with.
I was standing next to some school girls who were all discussing how one of them might break up with her immature boyfriend. They were all enjoying the drama as they discussed what best to text him to let him know he was dumped. It was a thrill for them (as well as a slight heart-wrench) and I emphasised with the poor 15 year old lad who was about to get a text. It was interesting to see the other side of this (not that i had a great deal experience of being dumped at that age, due to my clever tactic of not being attractive enough to have a girlfriend). They settled on "You're a nice boy, but I don't need a relationship at this stage of my life." All true. If he was like me he'd blown it by being much too over keen and also not bothering too much with personal hygiene. But he wasn't like me, as he had a girlfriend. At least until that text arrived.
I wasn't listening too intently (though I did make a note of the wording of the text) but I think he might just have texted back and said OK. The dumper said how relieved she felt, but she said it at the wrong time when her friends were talking, so only I heard. And her dramatic moment was mildly spoiled for her.
I thought about the 15 year old Richard Herring getting his heart crushed (though not by text, usually just by ghosting) and how my own kids are not too far away from being the crusher or the crushee.
The train stopped at Hatfield but the doors didn't open. An announcement came that the driver had overshot the platform a little bit and apparently was unable to reverse or open the doors that were still on the platform, which was a bit of a surprise. There was a long wait of maybe 15 minutes and it seemed to me almost immediately that if trains can no longer reverse and specific doors can't be opened (or left closed) then the only option was to go immediately to the next station and for those affected to get the train back. It would be annoying for them, but not as annoying as it would be to wait 15 minutes and then have to do that. Or as annoying as it would be for everyone not going to Hatfield to have to wait 15 mins. Luckily I'd left loads of time to get to Leicester Square, but if I was late then I'd miss my slot.
If they know they can't go backwards or open specific doors then why did they not just leave straight away. Someone on Twitter suggested they had to clear the issue with management or something. But once they'd fucked up then the policy should be, off you go mate. Or just let the train reverse. Or open a door or two. It must be possible. If there was a fire at this exact point they wouldn't leave all the doors shut just in case anyone fell off the train.
Anyway, I wasn't too unhappy. Stuck in the countryside I often don't have anything to blog about, but I was overwhelmed with incident. A mentally unstable man got on, talking to himself. To begin with it looked like he might be on the phone, though he was repeating one word over and again, but they he started loudly reciting a DVD warning about sexual content. It was mainly funny and I have great sympathy for people with neural conditions, but in that tight space, where things were already tense from the delay, it was a touch scary too. Because mental health provisions are now so bad you can't be sure that anyone who might actually be dangerous won't be on the streets. He turned round and was basically right next to me, occasionally touching himself. I had to just assume he was benign - he looked it to be fair, but his voice was getting more aggressive. It was nice to be repeatedly warned about scenes of a sexual nature to be fair. We got to Finsbury Park and he went on his way. London in its rich variety. Life in its rich variety. Everyone a little relieved it was nothing more than inappropriate shouting.
Then on to someone whose made a living from basically that behaviour, Chris Moyles. I'm joking of course. I had a good laugh with him and his team and he was very nice about my work and seemingly genuinely excited about having me on (even if he's waited nearly 30 years for his second interview).
Afterwards I walked from Leicester Square to Kings Cross. Before I had kids I loved walking round London. Now they're both at school I can do it again! I enjoyed it. Then I went home and was back for lunch.
More big names added to the tour list including ADAM BUXTON in March (but already heading for a sell out) and more in the badger/plusser secret areas.
Check out the line-ups here. 
