I was wrong. I tempted fate. Something could possibly go wrong. The freezer in the flat broke and all my Soleros melted. Now we have neither a boiler or a freezer. We are great if we want things to be room temperature, but any extreme of temperature cannot be tolerated. Still the flat is only costing £5000 for the month (between four idiots) so we can't expect hot water or frozen lollies. And if we don't have lollies then we won't make ourselves cold so we don't need heat to warm us up. It's a self-policing system.
Yes £5000. Do you think the students who stayed here for the rest of the year and stole all the mugs paid that much for the flat?
The landlord came over and the prognosis was that the sudden large volume of food to freeze/cool in the fridge freezer had been too much for it to cope with. Sure enough stuff became frozen again by night time. I had a Solero. It wasn't very nice. Nicer than I had expected given it had recently been a bag of liquid, but still not as nice as it should have been. People on Twitter warned me that I had risked food poisoning. But if that happens at least I should lose some more weight (though I am close to a stone lighter than I was this time last month so maybe don't need the assistance). After courting the advice of my 30,000 or so idiot followers I decided not to risk eating the fishfingers I had had in there too. Mainly because the consensus was that they wouldn't be very nice. I am not scared to risk death if the alternate option is to waste food.
The landlord (who I have to say is a very nice man and apologetic about the problems - even though the same things happen every year) is going to India tomorrow. I wonder how on earth he can afford a lovely holiday like that.... oh yeah.
I forgot to mention that yesterday I saw the black cat in the next street, that regular readers might recall became something of a lucky totem for me last year (go and read last August's entries if you don't know what I am talking about). I would always stop to say hello and stroke its head and felt a little uneasy if it wasn't there. I think the superstition might have even harked back to the previous year (all my Edinburghs blur into one big blur to be honest, if I didn't have this blog I wouldn't even know what shows I had done). The cat was back on its usual step and I went to say hello, but it had a big manky stitched wound on its head and I backed away and didn't stroke it. And now I wonder if that was a big mistake. Was the cat testing my love? Was it Jesus in feline form (and if you've read the blog for a while you will know that the two things are often connected) seeing if I would still stay true to him even if he was a bit scabby? Is my show doomed as a result?
Probably not, as all the half price preview shows are now sold out (you might be able to get released press and comp tickets at the last minute from the Assembly Rooms if you're prepared to take a chance) and full price sales (though I should point out I have kept my prices very low compared to most comedians - it's only £10 or £8.50 concessions if you come on a week day. Some of the big names in massive venues are cashing in with tickets over £20. The motherfuckers) are looking healthy. There is even talk of the unheard of for me - putting on extra late night shows.
But evenso I felt bad for allowing a little sticky stitch get between me and my most important Edinburgh friend, this little cat. I have been looking for him in vain to make up for my shunning treatment, but perhaps he has gone away to cry cat tears of disappointment. If he is Jesus then I am his Peter, denying him now that I feel I don't need him any more. If you're reading this cat Jesus, please forgive me. If you return I will put my fingers in your wound and I will believe.
I went for a swim in the morning, something I haven't done for months and which hasn't been part of my regular exercise routine for a couple of years at least. Usually a return to swimming after a lay off like this means unused muscles hurt and I run out of puff at about 10 lengths. But today I managed to trick my stupid brain, but constantly adjusting my goal. I started off thinking I'd do 10 lengths, but felt surprisingly limber and fresh so aimed instead for 15 minutes, by which time I thought I might as well do 20 lengths. Then my aim changed to be to complete a third cycle of 8 lengths, by which time it seemed stupid not to do 30 lengths. I nearly convinced myself I should complete the fourth cycle of 8, but began to worry I might never stop swimming if I didn't force myself.
How could it be so easy after all this time? Had I been secretly getting up in my sleep and doing swimming practice? Or has 24 days off the booze (not that I am counting) had some unexpected benefits. I am feeling pretty amazing at the moment, but the Soleros might put paid to that.
I got into the venue for the first time to do my tech at 7. There is a large and efficient crew in the Ballroom, which is impressively swish, especially compared to the sweaty, sauna like White Belly with the sweat dripping off the ceiling. There are 3 chandeliers in this new room. I have arrived. It's taken me 19 Fringes. But now my audience doesn't get their mingled sweat dripping on to their heads.
We had some issues with the projector and trying to get a clear enough image to be seen at the back of this long room (it's 345 seats, which is a daunting thought - last year was only 185). I think we have addressed most of them, but I might have to rejig the begat ones so that everyone can read them. But we're getting a new screen as mine is not great for back projecting, which is the most efficient system in this venue. I think these issues will iron themselves out. This is why you pay less for the first couple of shows. I put in some new sound cues which I hope I will remember and have been working on some of the linking passages and the ending.
Suddenly it's all feeling a bit real. The bubble of excitement is building in my stomach. Though that might be the Solero. Even if the cat curses me for my disloyalty I am determined to enjoy this year. I hope you can make it along.
And to relax and have some downtime after this tech I went home and made the first 50 Limited Edition programmes for the kind people who donated money for SCOPE to get their name in. I might not post them immediately, but they should soon be on the way. A surprising amount of you have not given me your addresses though, so do email them to me if you want the reward for your generosity and haven't done so already.
I half-watched Passenger 57 as I did this. I had forgotten that Michael Jackson takes the role of the good stewardess and Wesley Snipes' love interest. He was an amazing and versatile talent and is much-missed. I like the bit where the terrorist asks him if Wesley has been in his small, tight hole. If I had been the stewardess I would have asked for clarification as to whether he was implying vaginal or anal sex here. Because although she is offended, I think she should be even more offended if he thinks she would let Snipes bum her during such a tense situation when they barely knew each other. (TAP TAP) Is this thing on? You really need to watch the film right now to make my humorous observations work. But don't watch it. It is really shit. Watch Die Hard instead. There are quite a lot of similarities. I am sure it is accidental.
