While tonight's gig in Whitehall may have been cancelled, I did get the chance to have a peek at Downing Street.
Despite working down the road for a few months at the Playhouse Theatre, and having passed the Cenotaph in the past, I'd never been up to the gates at the end of the PM's street until today. If it weren't for the machine gun-brandishing policemen on the other side of the fence, I might've rustled up the courage to scale it, removing my clothing on the way, and then sprint up to the handleless door of Number Ten and desperately tried to get purchase with my fingers.
The city looked particularly picturesque today, in the fading light of sunny day. I got off the tube at Embankment and walked towards Whitehall - giving a nod to the Playhouse as I went past, in memory of my equivocal experience there in Dreamboats & Petticoats - with a view to heading straight for the venue, before glancing at my watch and realising I had time for a quick sightsee; you can't be so close to an iconic British institution and not look at it.
|Cast of The Gig That Wasn't (gotta love my gimpy face).|
The venue for tonight's aborted gig was the Clarence Pub; a high-class bar, with a room upstairs where the comedy was set to take place that looked more like a Gentleman's Club to place wagers with Phileas Fogg than a place to be funny. I say this in jest: it would have been a great room to play if there'd been an audience, but sadly, being a Monday, there wasn't. The host, Jonny, was hugely apologetic, but it couldn't be helped. Thankfully, I have another gig booked in in a few weeks with him at a busy venue near Covent Garden, so I should get the chance to satiate the Cancellation Demon (if there's such a thing). I'm only glad tonight's show wasn't meant to happen on the 11th, or I would have got caught up in the Tour of Britian; there's nothing worse than a load of dyslexic cyclists.