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Last day of my 57th year on the planet and for some reason turning 57 suddenly feels ludicrously old. I instigated a discussion on Twitter as to whether 57 was mid or late fifties. Either way it's a bit too close to 60 for a man who thinks he is at most 35 and sometimes still 4. It's insane the way we keep barrelling onwards towards old age. Someone should look into it. If only I had billions of pounds I could reverse the ageing process like that weird, opaque-skinned mannequin man who I think is only about 40 but looks somewhere between 55 and being an alien.
Glad still to be here of course, but I can not process this at all. Who stole my life?
Onwards to Frome today, a town I should maybe know better than I do. I have played here before but never got to spend the day here and it's a lovely Harry Potter world place full of windy streets packed with shops selling magic wands and exploding sweets. Bollings has put in more overnight stays than previous tour managers and it's not necessarily a bad thing. But in the past I would have come home from somewhere like Alton even if it meant a longer journey time the next day. It'd save some hotel money and mean I got more time with the family. But it would be more tiring and there's much to be said for having these little touristy breaks, even if it doesn't feel particularly fair on Catie.
We didn't have a hotel in Frome because I am staying at my parents for the next two nights and it was a bit weird not to have a base, but I had coffee and looked round book shops and then finally headed to the theatre early for a brief nap.
I thought it might be the first slightly dud gig of the tour at the start - the room was echoey and the air conditioning was on and so loud that I had to stop to make sure it wasn't a plane flying overhead. I couldn't really hear myself think and was quite thrown and had to stop to ask for the air conditioning to be shut off and it felt like I was losing the crowd, or more accurately never getting them.
But with the distraction gone, I quickly snapped back into it and gave a very crisp and nuanced performance. I did feel a bit tired and light-headed - given the number of medical emergencies we've had it must surely soon be time for me to go down (and not in a fun way). But I remained on my feet!
And in a week the tour will be done. And I'll be almost 57 and 1/52th. Time refuses to stop and wait, however much I wish for it. The conveyor belt to the cliff above the meat mincer never breaks down.
Bollings drove me to Cheddar through the misty winding roads of Somerset and the crescent moon hung in the clear sky.
