Cheddar is just gorgeous in the sunshine (no gorge pun intended) and my girl and me had an enjoyable and vigorous walk through the village (where I filmed St Andrew's Church - still inexplicably standing even though according to my show it was burnt to to ground in 1976) and then up to the gorge. We snuck up the secret back route to Jacob's Tower (apparently saving ourselves £4.50 each, which is what the Caves charge you to go on the cliff top walk). I must be getting old and soppy because a part of me was thinking how cool it would be to live in this beautiful part of the world and raise a family. But the sunshine must have inebriated me. I wasn't thinking straight. Did I really want to create clones who would live exactly the same life as me? Though I do realise how fortunate I was to grow up in such an idyllic place, amongst good people and go to some brilliant schools (even if the Headmaster of my Upper School was a bit of a wally). It's a terrific place to visit, but it might drive me nuts if I lived here. Plus there's no Nandos, so that's the end of that idea.
This has certainly been the most fun and relaxing part of the tour and in some ways I suppose I should be thanking my parents for looking after us all so well. Though I don't hear them thanking me for all the fun I gave them bringing me up. It's probably best not to mention it at all and just take all this shit (literally in their case) for granted.
Then it was down to Exeter for a really fun show at the Phoenix. I love the people of the South West (very similar in many ways to the oddballs of South Wales who I also have an affinity with) and the show buzzed along. Reliable Pete, a sound engineer by trade, had plugged the Tascam into the desk so we could get a crisp clean recording, but afterwards he admitted that he hadn't put it on the right setting so the very strong first half had not been crisply recorded. But no matter. He may lose his Occasionally Reliable nickname and whilst I doubt it will ever get to being Unreliable Pete, by the end of the tour I might just have to call him Pete. As I did at the start. It's all cyclical.
He was a bit tired and not as sharp as usual, but I had slept well and was adlibbing a fair amount. Right at the end, as I was questioning whether I might be the new Messiah, I knocked my water bottle and a puddle of water spread across the floor. Almost without thinking about it and without saying a word I just walked through the puddle. I was walking on water. People got the reference and it was such neat timing that it probably looked like a planned piece of business (and maybe it will be another time) but it was just good luck and sharp reactions.
When we got home I discovered some unexpected visitors in the lounge. Dad had put my ventriloquist dummies Ally and Sally on the tiny chair in the living room. If you came home to find these strange looking dolls in your house you might be a bit afraid that they would come to life and kill you in your sleep, but I was happy to see them again. They were made by my minister great-grandad (if the surprisingly fresh looking newspaper stuffing Sally's legs is anything to go by in 1892) and were given to me by my grandad and used in my first Edinburgh show in a sketch, though dad has been trying to get them repaired to no avail. It's amazing to have these items of family history and to think of them still being around almost 120 years after they were made by another Herring's hands - though I am not sure of if Tom Herring would approve of the use that Stewart Lee came up with for Ally in a Masonic Lodge in Edinburgh in 1987.
Hopefully the terrifying pair will still be around in another 120 years and in the hands of some future Herring descendant (though unless I get busy it's unlikely they will have the Herring surname - my sister's kids are called Edmonds and my brother only has a daughter. Fortunately I am so masculine that I could only have male children, so we will be OK as long as I get a shift on). These freaky puppets, that definitely come to life at night, should hopefully be scaring and intriguing our family for generations to come.
