I bagged myself a late spot tonight in south London at one of the capital’s most reputable comedy nights. It’s a night I’ve had my eye on since returning to the circuit back in February. I could’ve done with the rest and I’ve now got gigs three-nights running, which is doable, but I’m feeling tired for a couple of reasons. But you can read about those on the full version of this, here:
Firstly, since yesterday evening, I’ve been dealing with attempted fraud for a ridiculously high amount of money which runs completely counter to my historical frugal-spending lifestyle which could only ever see me mistaken for a writer. I accept that no organisation is safe from hackers but this it was the experience of trying to sort this out with the company, and dealing with three of the most rude and obstructive advisers I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter that persuaded me in the end to immediately close down the account. I didn’t get the assurances I needed from them. The last guy wouldn’t answer my queries, and simply told me there was nothing to worry about, “It’s just small fraud and we got it under control”. Fraud is fraud. It’s a big deal to me. I’ve ended up having to order new bank cards and lost so much time today.
A lunchtime run helped me to feel a little better but I probably need to shed some layers. Like Saturday, I wore 4 lots of bottoms, which definitely impacts on mobility, two layers of socks, including a formidable pair of winter socks given to me by my pal Joff. It’s the quintet of layers up top though that I’m finding restrictive after a couple of kilometres. They include a long-sleeved thermal and a jumper, plus the balaclava. Factor in the gloves, and you might get an idea of why I didn’t attempt to match Saturday’s 6k, stopping at 5. On the run, I rehearsed tonight’s set.
Saturday’s Croydon gig was great fun. I even bought into the improv. If you’d told me I’d be doing improv at the start of this year, I’d have told you to do one. Mind you, if you’d told me I’d reach a point in my life where I’d be able to set 7 mousetraps inside 15 seconds too, again, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Oh, the second reason for feeling tired. Yes, Downton Abbey. When I buy into a TV show, I get into it in a big way. I listened to Howard Hughes’ Unexplained show which Talk TV have done their best to butcher, the show still feeling the loss of its third hour, its best, ‘the midnight hour’. I kind of dozed off through its final hour, smiling to myself as his final guest went into too much detail about a serial killer he was hunting. I had a feeling the host would be uncomfortable with some of the terminology used and I was right. It was amusing hearing them panic a little and jumping in as the words strayed into naughty territory. And then, with the show finished, I returned to DA (No first naming here). I rarely watch Netflix. There’s too much crap to wade through on there before you reach the good stuff, but DA was one of the handful of shows on there I’ve been meaning to watch for some time. I’ve nearly finished the second series but it’s the hours I’m watching the show at that are affecting me. My sleep, or lack of, is such a problem, and one I’ve not tackled because I’ve just never been very enthusiastic about sleep. I’m up late and I’m always up early. I appreciate as you get older, this is not the way to secure eternal life but I really can’t see myself ever being the kind of guy to turn in for an early night. Life on the comedy circuit has perhaps inflamed the situation. Late nights, late eating, too much adrenalin whether it’s been a good or a bad night, making it impossible to sleep.
I saw Future Me on the bus on the way to the café. I think he’d been on the sauce at lunchtime. He was more ruddy-faced than usual, while I’ve noted one of the waiters here, The Mullet, regularly turns up for work with an intensely boozy breath. There’s no way he could get away with that breath in an office. HR would be stepping in before he could ask you for a mint.
The Japan – Croatia game is on here and the café is reasonably busy. They open tomorrow (post 2018, they rarely open on a Tuesday) for the Portugal v Switzerland Last 16 tie, so the plan is to be in here tomorrow at some point, ideally at a time that doesn’t clash with M’s visit. I like her but our chats are seriously impacting my ability to work in the café. For 20 years I valued my anonymity here and wrote shows I was able to sell to every leading broadcaster in the country. Suddenly, this side of the pandemic, I’m a raconteur and I can’t focus for toffee.
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