We stayed in Cambridge for most of the day, trying to fight through the throngs of international teenagers every time we wanted to go anywhere. They were an irritating constant, in their union jack hats, shouting out the one English phrase they knew... Actually today I was a bit less grumpy and didn't mind so much.
I had parked in a central multi-storey and had been a bit surprised to learn it cost £22 for over five hours (though I guess they are trying to discourage people bringing their cars into town, which is fair enough), but it made it seem worthwhile staying here as long as possible to get our money's worth. We put our bags in the car and I quickly checked to see if there were any hidden extra charges if you stayed for too long, but nothing was immediately evident. I noticed that if you said you had lost your ticket you would be charged from 9am. I realised that this would, at this time, cost me less than the full amount, but only if I left now. And could be arsed to go and find whoever I had to lie to. I decided to swallow the charge. £22 was the most I had ever paid for 24 hours parking, but I was having a day away from home, so why not splash out.
Except that when we returned at around about 4.30 (I had been parked for 22 hours) and put the ticket in the machine it was charging me £31.10. The tiny print on the sign revealed that different days would be charged as such.
Even now I was disinclined to pretend I had lost my ticket and paid up like the mug I am. Our over priced (though bogey free) hotel plus parking and petrol and lunch meant I was now running at a loss on the gig. Still I had got to see the sights of Cambridge, though they were largely obscured by shouting teenagers.
I did see the round church near to the cat park, apparently built that way so the devil couldn't hide in the corner. Which certainly cocked a snoop at all the stupid other churches with their convenient devil hiding corners. I would have thought church was the last place the devil would want to go. That's the main point of being the devil, surely, to avoid boring Sundays in church. And I reckon the devil could find a better hiding place than in a corner anyway. Surely he isn't so easily defeated. Is that all it would have taken all these years? To destroy all corners? Are they like stairs to the daleks ( i am aware that this lazy observation has no basis in fact)?
Wouldn't the devil think about hiding behind a chair? Or in the pulpit? Or in the pub? Or inside the body of the priest? You know that's where he goes usually.
But charming that people from the most educated city in the country (after Oxford) would be so simplistic about this. Their non corner church idea didn't catch on though, alas.
The devil may well have been in attendance tonight at Colchester Arts Centre, a former church, foolishly built with at least four massive corners and also some cupboards and toilets and nooks and crannies. The devil was spoiled for choice. If he was there though, I imagine he was disappointed by how little piss taking of Jesus there was in the show. I bet he saw last year's show and told all his demon mates to come along and all he got was some soppy talk about love. That's the opposite of what the devil likes. He hates everyone. Except his mum. All the bad lads love their mum.
I cut out the bit about my drycleaners and upped the pace and discarded some of the faff and the show came in at 65 minutes. It really rocketed along and everything seems to be working- even the bits I am dumping (for now- should be back in the tour show). The show is really getting to people and even the fans of my previous work all seem to be saying that this is the best one yet. Perhaps everyone is just getting into my stupid world, but there is already something very special about this show. I don't compliment myself lightly and regular readers will know I am my own worst critic- and that my self-criticism is mediocre at best- but I have high hopes for this one. And it's a good feeling to know that I already pretty much have the tour version ready as well.
Just like being in love this feeling is a triumph of hope over experience. I should know better after all this time, than to be feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. But something has changed this year and maybe at last I have pushed hard enough to get over the brow of the hill and gather some momentum.
More likely I will push over the brow of the hill and find a sheer cliff face on the other side and fall from a great height, like a scatological Icarus and fall on to jagged ricks where I will be devoured by demon hounds from the press.
But I don't think so. I know it's too much to hope that my 20th Fringe might belong to me- after all, some might say that I have hardly paid my dues, but it feels like it's time for me to show the whippersnappers and the doubters and the haters and the dismissive snivelers what I can do.
You've got to come and see it now, right, if only to witness me falling on my face.
And if you're building a church, don't worry about the corners. Cos if it's common knowledge that that's where the devil always hides, which makes his attempts to hide there somewhat redundant.
But if you get bored check out the corners and see if you spot Beelzebub.
I wrote this blog on my iPhone. There are a couple of little errors, but they amuse me so I am leaving them in. I like the idea of jagged ricks.
