In many ways, today’s show was the best of the run so far, and the most fun.
For the first time, everyone filled from the front, making for a pack of punters right in my eye line, who were on board throughout. I had enough laughter to sit back on and help me enjoy telling the stories, rather than feeling I had to fight to keep the ball in the air (clunky football analogy). It may have been a little indulgent, but I mentioned my one-out-of-five score from a Twitter reviewer who said I failed to produce laughter, to an audible gasp; it was probably unnecessary to say it, but if nothing else it was good for mental health to vocalise my inner monologue at a show where the response from the audience couldn’t have been more at odds with that summary.
It was nice that today’s show was a good one, as I had a friend in that I hadn’t seen properly for twenty years, despite having kept contact on Facebook and Twitter. We had a lovely chat over a drink in the bar, where Glyn joined us. The conversation flowed freely, with us both paying reference to mutual friends we’d had at the drama club where we met as teenagers, most of whom we hadn’t thought about for years. The only sticking point was a fact that we each remembered differently: I could have sworn that he was the person who turned me on to the likes of On The Hour, The Day Today and Knowing Me Knowing You with Alan Partridge, when he was sure it was me. If it wasn’t one of us, then who was this strange, shady comedy-promoting figure that lent us those fabled radio recordings? Answers on a postcard, with the top right corner marked 'ME'.
Even though today’s gig went well, it didn’t stop me feeling tired and a little downcast as the day progressed. That said, my mood lifted after going to see Sam Fletcher’s fun, funny and charming one-man show Daftwerk, and thanks to a quick trip to the Loft Bar with Glyn for a drink and a reminisce about Edinburgh Fringes gone by. Now it’s time for bed, as my next show is imminent; I certainly need my beauty sleep.