It was another late night. I had a very enjoyable gig last night then got home and had a full late meal after 11pm. I skip too many proper meals with the gigging but having a full meal late will only likely fast track a heart attack. There was disappointment after I over-microwaved a pastie. I’m all about the casing when it comes to pasties and pies, and this late-night blow marred the evening slightly. I also had some pesto sauce with my meal. This is my second attempt, the first since the late 90s, at liking pesto. I just don’t think it’s for me.
I dallied with my café arrival time this morning, figuring if I came in after lunch, I’d avoid M. The problem is with Portugal playing tonight and Portuguese regulars booking tables for tonight’s game, I was worried I might get limited time here this afternoon.
After watching another episode of series 2 of Downton Abbey some ten years after it aired, I finally made an effort to sleep around 0200hrs and was up six hours later. Sleeping under 80s togs of bedding, pulling the duvets over my behatted skull is no easy thing and I pulled my right shoulder last night. It’s very sore this morning. I do worry about an overnight break-in during winter. It's no easy thing throwing all this bedding off in the morning and if I needed to grapple with an intruder, emerging from under all that bedding will be no easy thing.
I decided to make the trip here at my favoured morning time and arrived around 1015hrs to find M had saved me a seat over by the radiator where she proceeded to talk and talk, again eating into my writing time. Future Me, having his breakfast, and sensing M’s facility to engage in long chats, kept his distance from me, wisely.
“You look like Kier Starmer,” was M’s parting line as she left this morning. I would be thinking about that all day, I told her. People really need to think before they open their mouths. They should ask themselves just one question before offering a compliment.
“Is this a compliment?”
Tonight, I’m gigging in King’s Cross and need to see if this afternoon, after some light rehearsals before tonight, I can squeeze in a Star Wars Football Round of 16 Christmas Cup second leg game between Alderran and Empire, as right now, schedule wise, with the final scheduled for Christmas Eve, as it has been since 1984, that timescale is looking very ambitious.
Sunday’s fraud situation rumbled on, legacy wise. My card was declined in the supermarket and even chip and pin wasn’t working. I’d agreed with the bank my card would remain active until my replacement arrived. I’d been told on the app to report the card as (just) ‘damaged’ and that would ensure it could still be used. The new card is likely to be delayed because of the Royal Mail strikes. I had to call the bank up again and unusually for me had to take the call onto the bus. I hate phone calls on buses, but I was running so late, I couldn’t not get on my bus. Neither did I enjoy getting arsey with the adviser but they were fobbing me off and eventually I got to speak to a manager who recognised they’d erred. I’ve lost two entire days to this fallout from Sunday’s Paypal business.
It's now 23.02hrs and I’ve just returned from tonight’s Kings Cross gig. Tomorrow night (Wednesday), it’s back north of the river, this time for a show in Finsbury Park. Whilst I gig a lot, I’ll let you into a little secret: I’m like one of those footballers who doesn’t enjoy watching football. If I’m not performing, you won’t find me watching a show. It’s just not my thing. I think one positive side effect of this is I’m not influenced by any particular comic, nor do I model my style on anyone. I do see quite a few comics appropriating some of the gestures you immediately recognise from the big comics we all know from the Netflix specials, including one of the most maddening ones of the little finger of their ‘mic’ hand not actually being on the mic, but pointing at the audience. That’s just ****ing annoying. These gestures are a relatively new thing, taken from the aforementioned Netflix specials and the millions of clips available on YouTube.
As a kid and going into my twenties, I went to loads of stand up shows. I didn’t consider I’d ever do it. I just think that as a performer, for me, it’s a healthy thing that unless I’m on a bill, I’m not going out of my way to watch a gig. I suppose I miss how much I loved watching stand up as a punter ‘back in the day’, but I guess it’s a bit like how being a writer shapes the way say I watch television. For instance, regarding Downton Abbey. While I have loved watching the second series ten years too late, I can definitely see a few storylines that show a slight dip in the quality from the first year. Being a writer can have a negative impact on one’s enjoyment of a book or watching something, and it’s no different with the comedy. Watching a live stand-up show is never the same again.
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