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.