Blimey, I packed a lot in today. Now I come to write about it I can't believe this all happened in one 24 hour period. Because I was up early and welcoming Andrew Collings into my home after a 3 week lay off (or longest period apart for over 3 years) to record a podcast for today and one in the wank bank (a bank full of wank, rather than a bank you wank to, but for some I am sure it is both) for when touring duties override all else. Yesterday my new Tascam DR 100 digital recorder had arrived. Whilst away I finally bowed to the pressure from the audiophiles (but why I listened to them after the disgusting things they do with sounds - some as young as 0.1 seconds old - I don't know), fed up with our macs spluttering to a halt in mid-podcast and bought this online. It's a pretty tasty bit of kit, though it took us a while to get our heads around it and we possibly recorded podcast 157 at too high a resolution, so apologies for the download time (we will deal with this in the future). I was annoyed that digidave had sent me the wrong power adapter for the machine, though when I complained they apologised and told me they had none in stock (though I notice that they are still listing the item as in stock
on the many websites which they list the item - it seems impossible to buy it from anyone else, though the machine charges by USB cable too, though I don't think you can record with it when you are doing that. Digidave sounds like a nice bloke, so it's a shame that he is unnecessarily lying about having this product. Don't pretend to have a product and then just send out a different one though. No one will like you if you do that. It's just inconvenient.
Anyway it was exciting times for the podcast and all those of you who thought it was too quiet before should be excited by the new crystal clear sound. And I am also one step closer to getting my snooker podcast off the ground too!
You can read about podcast 157
here if you just want to imagine it. But you can listen to it in awe and wonder
here.
We struggled to get the massive file to orange Mark and took the size down a notch or two for the next record (confusingly podcast 159 which will be out in a couple of weeks - we are doing 158 and 160 next Friday). I got a bit distracted at the end when the file I was loading up for Orange Mark seemed to go wrong, and also I was unsurprisingly a little bit tired, but the hour and a bit passed quite quickly.
I had time for a spot of lunch and to finish my packing for the next 9 days and then Normally Reliable Pete was at the door and it was time to head off to Cheddar. For the third year running I was bringing my somewhat tasteless comedy stylings to my old school and the swanky new King's Theatre. My childishness and cock obsessions seem all the more embarrassing when I have to perform in front of my parents and the denizens of my home town, but it is a fitting punishment for me that I should have to do this every year. We came very close to running out of diesel on the way (which apparently means you have to call breakdown recovery as you can't just put diesel into the tank out of a canister - it needs to be pumped in), so we criss-crossed Bristol looking for a petrol station and found one in the nick of time (though had we just carried on with our regular route we'd have found one much quicker).
A couple of Christian protestors had turned up to hand out leaflets and I was handed a letter with a leaflet that purported to tell me who Jesus was (if only I had got that earlier it could have saved me a whole lot of time and effort), but they didn't put the audience off coming in. It was a sell out, for the first time in this theatre. There were an extra load of seats at the front which I didn't even know could be put in.
My early wank jokes didn't go down too well, but slowly the audience relaxed, enjoying the many local references that the show has and hearing my mum's voice coming out over the speakers. My dad's Cheddar Man of the Year mention got a spontaneous round of applause - the old buffoon remains very popular in the village even in retirement. I hoped my silly, sweary show was not an embarrassment to my folks and wouldn't damage their standing in the community. I imagined them in the bar at the interval with everyone avoiding eye contact with them because of the shame of having a son who would consider digging up Mother Theresa for the basest of reasons.
But by the second half we'd all relaxed a bit more (and perhaps it was my own tension that was creating the unusual atmosphere) and we all had a good time. Though Pete told me one man had slept through the whole thing. Which in a way is a kind of compliment.
I love my home town and it's great they have this theatre and I hope it gave them something to be proud of, amongst the shame and the two protestors.
Then it was back home to have supper with my perfect parents, allowing my dad to chastise Reliable Pete for coming out on the road rather than staying at home to look after his family (which seemed a touch harsh given Pete's job). But you don't become Cheddar Man of the Year without speaking your mind. The people of Cheddar appreciate bluntness more than they appreciate cock jokes.
In my little town I will always be my father's son.
Quite right too.
