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Though today’s lunchtime run, more of which shortly, did me a lot of good, staying indoors for the rest of the day was probably going to chip away at the wellbeing points the run had helped me accrue to carry me into tomorrow, so I figured the best thing would be to get out. And here I am, finally, back at the back-up café.
I tried to play the moment of entering down, as if it was no big deal to me, when of course it was. Like the line in one of my sets goes, ‘I’m a low-key guy. No ink, no jewellery’. I really don’t like attention, unless I’m on stage of course. Nostril Flarer and the Muscular Madeiran both smiled at me, the latter giving me the ‘Long time no see’.
It has indeed been a while, probably a month or so. I am a creature of habit. This place has done me a lot of good since last summer but with everything going on the last few months, I have allowed myself to get cut off from the few friends I have again and also stopped doing the things that are good for me. Also, this place isn’t THE café, but having checked the prices in here as soon as I came in, it looks like their coffees haven’t gone up. They’re now 60p cheaper than SW8’s. That’s the difference between going out and staying in. And staying in can have a hugely detrimental effect on my wellbeing.
I can confirm that Double Denim, the temperamental, heavily-fragranced Italian, hasn’t returned. I suspect he’s still looking for work. I don’t think he’s an easy fit for any team.
I spoke to my uncle on the way here. He tells me he’s feeling a bit better today after a difficult few days. He then, without any effort at a segue whatsoever, handed the phone over to my aunt. Right away she got my name wrong. This is why I dropped her from the Next of Kin status I’d accorded her back in 2011.
Her new freedom pass arrived and she’s in a state as it expires in 2027. ‘Why’ve they only given me four years?” She asked me. “Do they think I’m not going to be around after that?” I heard my uncle in the background. “You’ll be lucky if you make it to 2025.”
I’d spent the morning re-tweaking my new set for tomorrow night’s spot in Stockwell and I’m happy with it. It’s always interesting how having to shorten a set for a shorter spot often helps streamline the longer version. I’ve nailed down this new version. I’m getting much better and quicker at learning new material and variations of it. Having to condense it into a 5 spot for next Tuesday night in King’s Cross though, that will really be a test of my writing.
I am trying to work in more audience interaction even though I hate that, both as a performer and an audience member. When I moved into stand-up, I was always adamant I’d be the kind of stand-up I would want to see as an audience member, principally someone that wasn’t going to bother me in the audience. And I’d never ask anyone how they’re doing because as an audience member I wasn’t interested in that kind of bland interaction. That’s why I simply launch into my sets. I don’t care if something is an established way of doing things. If it doesn’t work for me, I don’t do it. My stuff doesn’t lend itself easily to audience interaction but it is something I need to work on. I’m quite a slow guy with everything so I don’t think it’ll be a big strength of mine.
I ran 10k this lunchtime, my best Strava time since I gave up on the Runkeeper app I was using for two years after Strava similarly stopped working on my old phone. Since Christmas I’ve been using Strava again and I have to say I miss the calorie counter you got on Runkeeper, but what good is a calorie counter if the rest of the app isn’t working properly.
The plan today was just to grit my teeth and do an 8k, but after 1.5k, I had a feeling a bigger run was on. Unusually, to make sure I was on track for the 10k, I kept checking the phone every couple of kilometres. In the end, I was reminded that a longer run is often more pleasurable than the shorter run one is only doing under sufferance. Around the 6.5k mark, some dog walker was in a panic after their tiny puppy had run off some two hundred metres to engage with a couple of bigger dogs. I have a feeling that for the next few weeks, ‘Jack’ will be on a lead.
After the run there was an online back and forth with my friend who gave me the weird keyboard yesterday. It’s very different from anything I’ve used before and some of the key functions aren’t where you’d normally find them. After struggling to find the “, I messaged him again.
At the table to my right, a quartet of pensioners have met up to discuss some event they’re apparently putting on in the local crematorium. “But are we a village or a hamlet?” pipes up the man who has dominated proceedings so far. And then I switch off, thankful that I’m not part of that meeting. Boredom has always scared me. It’s why holding down any office job has always been a huge challenge for me. I hate being on ‘the programme’ and dealing with the narrow mindsets you often come up against in that world.
Typically, and this is this place’s big failing, I’m still waiting to order the second decaf latte. I don’t understand how difficult it is to observe the tables from the counter and spot who might need serving. Back in THE café, The Mullet is brilliant at this. If he’s lived a past life, he’d be the guy up in the crow’s nest who spots land. He’s got Glenn Hoddle-like vision when it comes to seeing which customer needs a beverage.
Tonight, I might bulk-cook some stuff. I say ‘cook’, but I am essentially just switching the oven on, within sight of several mouse traps. That f***ing flat will haunt me forever. These late nights often mean I’m skipping meals. I went three nights without a proper meal last week. I feel maybe it’ll help if I just have some stuff in the fridge and I can have a smaller meal when I get home late. Airline portions, nothing major at that time of night, but it might be better than a late-night bowl of porridge.
As for tonight, before watching Liverpool’s mission impossible in Madrid tonight, there’s some Star Wars Football Action as 7-times league champions Tattooine travel to struggling Alderran. It’ll be good to get back on that carpet with my action figures and a Subbuteo ball. My gigs are really having a negative impact on Silver Age Season 8. I can’t hide from that.
I heard a brilliant episode of an indie football show at the weekend looking at Liverpool’s early 90s decline and positing a theory I’ve heard before, one that I’m inclined to agree with. Which is that even during the final years of their 70s and 80s glory era, the club was in decline behind the scenes. Traumatised by Heysel and Hillsbrough, with a young unsupported manager at the helm, the club had taken their eye off the ball. And the big turning point was the re-signing of Ian Rush, still the most prolific striker in English football, of the last fifty years. By the time he returned from Juventus after one underwhelming year in Italy, Liverpool no longer needed Rush. It was the defence that needed urgent addressing. Instead they spent £2.8m bringing Rush back, whose goal ratio dropped by almost 50% in his second lengthier spell at the club, just to keep him out of the clutches of other leading English sides. It was essentially a vanity signing. I love historical analysis like that.
Upright, the Waitress with the fantastic centaur-like posture, who I think is an item with Nostril Flarer, finally collects my glass. She looks a little off with me. Like my absence has caused her some personal offence, and omits to use my name in our exchange.
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