I had hoped that being in Yorkshire would spare me from having to do all the wedding/moving/renovation work that needed to be done. And if this was the 19th Century my dastardly plan would have worked. But thanks to the efficiency of modern communication I was able to and forced to play my part. I had the job of sorting out a phone and broadband for the new flat - something I wasn't relishing as I suspected the 5 month contract would prove difficult. Indeed lots of providers offer month by month broadband, but it seemed that you had to sign up for 12 months phone line. I don't even use the landline any more. Getting a mobile dongle aside I suspect there is no way round that. My fiancee had rung around a couple of places, who said that we'd be able to take our landline contract with us when we moved, but we already had a landline at home. Luckily my fiancee was clever enough to use lateral thinking and suggested I get in touch with BT and ask them if I could transfer our home contract to the new flat. Why hadn't I thought of that? Because I am a useless idiot.
Of course that was the way to do it and rather than getting two phone bills, BT actually offered me a much better rate for exactly the same broadband service. For once moving house was going to save me money. But I was a bit annoyed that a) they'd been charging me over a tenner over the odds before I'd enquired about this and b) that I was now committed to another 12 months of a frankly rather variable BT service. But it was the easiest option for now. It's probably worth ringing your phone provider every year to make sure you're getting the best service.
With that job done (and sharp-eyed readers may notice that most of the kudos must go to my girlfriend) I could rest on my laurels. Even though I was away I was doing loads to help. I am the best person ever. Bad luck ladies and gay men (and straight men and lesbians who would still like to be married to me) I am taken. Unless you can put in a very strong argument why I should marry you instead in the next month and a bit.
By the time I got to Sheffield I was feeling pretty tired and grumpy and things were not improved when I got to the town hall and was told that I couldn't park outside. I knew this was the case with this venue as we've been through this before - I am not even officially allowed to unload without being in danger of getting a parking ticket, as their permits are for vans only. Once again my one man in a car on his own confounds these bigger venues. The duty manager was astonished that I was selling my own DVDs and putting out my programmes on the seats. There was a lot of confusion about where I could park - one of the techs said I could go in the staff car park, but once I'd parked there the man at the stage door told me I couldn't. There was a little pay and display car park nearby but all the prices were covered up on the board and I didn't have any change so I drove about half a mile up the road to park in a car park. This made me annoyed, mainly because it meant the staff would have to wait for me to go and get my car before they could lock up and go home. I really have to get a tour manager.
I arrived at the venue for the second time, sweaty and a bit fractious, ready to snap at the staff. But they were all so reasonable and nice (and apologetic) that I soon forgot my anger. I just wanted to go to sleep on the sofa in the dressing room, but I had to do my show. I've sold out here the last couple of years, but hadn't quite done so this year, which was slightly disappointing. And annoyingly the empty seats were all at the front, giving the impression that the people of Sheffield were keeping their distance. It could have had a psychological impact on the performance, but although I was mildly thrown at the start I didn't mention it and just got on with it.
Backstage, for the first time I noticed signs pointing towards the main Sheffield City Hall stage. I went to have a look. It was truly massive, compared to the little 350 seater room I was in. In an alternate or future universe I might be playing this room. It was dark and empty now and there were chairs stacked on the huge stage. I didn't feel bad about not being in there - it looked like a very hard room to play for comedy and the smaller room is much better. It's just interesting to consider the different paths your life could take. Whilst it must be amazing and profitable to have that many people wanting to come to see you, I still feel fortunate that I am (not through my own choice) more of a niche act.
And though my tiredness slightly pervaded into my performance in the first half, with me making some tiny errors that no one else would have noticed, the second half was about the best I have ever done it and the crowd were behind me. Alas no one heckled me about extreme knitting this year as they did last, but parking issues aside Sheffield is one of my favourite cities to play.
In the old days touring was about drinking and partying and eating curries and trying (and largely failing) to meet girls. As I sat in the Premier Inn bar, totally alone (even the bar staff were hidden away somewhere) I realised that these days the biggest thrill for me is if I can get free parking somewhere. Whilst I had had to pay to park at the venue, the parking at the hotel was free. It's a major score. I wondered about doing a Dave Gorman style show where I toured the country and made a resolution not to pay for parking anywhere. Not to park illegally, as parking tickets would count as paying, but to always find somewhere free to park no matter where I was. I think it would involve a lot of walking from the car to venues and hotels and in some places it would be nigh on impossible. You'd have to negotiate with local people to let you park in their driveways. It would be a lot of hassle and make for an incredibly boring show, but what a challenge. What a pointless and dull challenge.
I am sorry this is such a black hole of tedium today. If only I had been keeping a blog during my tours of the 1990s you could have read all about me drinking a lot, eating a curry, talking to girls in bars for three hours before going back to my hotel alone and crying myself to sleep. It would have been much more entertaining. But I am now middle aged and it's all about parking and the satisfaction of having transferred my phone line.
I have to say I am much more successful with the free parking than I ever was with the rock n roll aspects of touring. And also more thrilled and satisfied.
