I walked to the back-up café following an hour or so of rehearsing some of my new set. It’ll be a few weeks yet before it’s rolled out. Gig-wise, February is looking very busy now, but January is about to end having been disappointingly quiet.
I have a Gong show tomorrow which it’s probably fair to say I’m not looking forward to because so much depends on the audience on these nights. Some are hostile, some are outright savages, yes, seriously, while others are decent. I have beaten this particular gong night before but should’ve basked in that for a few more weeks. Instead, I went back six weeks later and got my rear handed to me, as well as having my (then) yellow-laced footwear heckled. I try not to take them seriously. There’s a knack to beating them, which I don’t quite have yet, or ever will, but if you can get something out of them that feeds into and progresses your performance, then that’s all good.
The back-up café is unusually quiet right now. I’m hoping to be out of here by 17:30hrs before the waitress starts lighting the candles and dims the lights. I don’t know if this is simply down to that being the kind of mood they want for this place in the evenings or if this has been determined by this winter’s cost of living crisis. Whichever, I’m not one for the candles. Partly because I’m clumsy and would fear something catching alight and partly because they reinforce how alone I am and how alone I feel.
I have one of my biggest gigs coming up next Saturday night in Camden and while looking forward to it, and feeling confident, I would like to be going into that with more stage time this side of Christmas. That’s not been the case and after tomorrow’s Gong, my week is currently clear. It is a worry.
Less of a concern, but something to look at, is something that in fact just got my attention as I walked here. While I don’t let Covid govern my life – indeed, I’m pretty realistic about it, we’ll catch it time and again now so no need to panic if we’re vaccinated – I still hand gel after touching pretty much everything. My front door, the gate, etc, and then the two formidable bottles of hand gel go into the bottom left pocket of my winter coat. Also in there are my woolly gloves (not the best, I have to say) which I turn inside out for hygiene reasons. However, I realised that’s a big HYGIENE FAIL on my part. The inside of my gloves is likely to be making contact with my hand gel bottles inside that pocket, bottles which I’ve touched immediately after say handling my front door, gate, bins, etc. Something for me to review. It looks like the gloves will need to transfer over to the bottom right pocket.
Meantime, in a turn of events that summed up January, my electric blanket died last night. I immediately added a third pair of socks and tracksuits to the thermal long johns and braced myself for a long night. Just one more thing I need to replace. The timing, though, that’s what killed me. January is the last month you want your blanket to blow.
Meantime, I lead on today’s greeting with the Waitress with the magnificent centaur-like posture. I tried several times before that, figuring it would be a nice moment. I’m aware my default look is unapproachable, which sometimes can be a good thing, but I’m certainly not unapproachable. I just have a limited range of facial expressions and my social skills aren’t great. My timing, like the electric blanket’s death throes, was off though. Several times I opened my mouth only to quash the greeting in my throat as she turned away to clear some nearby table. Finally I led on it as she moved past my table.
“It’s nice to see you,” she said as we wrapped up on the greeting.
“You too,” I replied, thinking that, I don’t know, seemed a little more formal than usual, only to then wonder if this was her talking now to the guy sat behind me. If she was, was she aware that I thought she was talking to me?
Timing, eh.
It’s so important.
Footnote: The opening decaf latte, made by Nostril Flarer, the café’s best decaf latte exponent, may be the best I’ve had yet here. He’s terrible at serving you but to be fair, he’s a gifted coffee maker and seems to be growing in stature during Double Denim’s possibly permanent absence.
Tonight, at least there’s football and the boxing to distract me. Oh, and some pastiche Holmes. I have pastiche Holmes books to work through in both the front room and the bedroom.
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