It’s been a strange 24 hours.
Yesterday’s disastrous evening ended in painful fashion when in a freak accident (my lack of common sense played a starring role), I injured my left eye with a big radio aerial. I was very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse and I’ll settle for the bloodshot eye I’d ended up with by midnight.
I had my filmmaking course to distract me for a chunk of today but the difficult memory of last night’s King Gong show was never far away. At lunchtime I’d paid a fleeting visit to my aunt and uncle and was, as I often am, entertained by another very funny argument between the pair.
Then lo and behold, tonight I win a comedy competition in Brixton. I’d quietly fancied my chances, but more than that, before the show I had considered how a rare and much-needed success might prove a salve right now. And the MC, who I rate, even said my name correctly.
This comedy thing…one minute you’re down, the next you’re up.
Onto Thursday’s 20 minute closing spot now in Rochester.
I hope your day was a decent one, Dear Reader.
Does that need to be capitalised?
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