I gigged at the Hope & Anchor in Islington tonight, thus ending my week of performing at venues I used to play with my band Big Day Out.
It's a lovely venue for comedy. It's a lot less dingy than it was fifteen years ago (a Trip Advisor review if ever I heard one). They now have a theatre space on the first floor, as well as the venue in the basement. I'd be interested to see it's like. I suppose I could have asked if I could peek inside, but I'm British and we never do that.
As I walked up to the front door I had a flashback of being dropped outside it by my band's first manager, Martin, and lugging our hefty amps down the stairs. It seems like a lifetime ago; just under half a lifetime in my case. My world's so different now. My career has taken a tangential route. It makes me wonder what I'll be fifteen years from now; a gymnast, perhaps? Maybe not, at forty-nine.
The audience had thinned out by the time I got on. They were smiley, but less vocal than I'd have liked. The ad libs went down better than the material, which was interesting. I knew this writing lark was overrated. Phil Kay and Ross Noble have got it right.