Skip to main content

Sweat the Small Stuff.


Today’s been too hot for its own good.

I met Glyn briefly this afternoon in Hitchin Market Place to discuss plans for Thursday’s Mostly Comedy over a couple of mint choc-chip ice creams, which were tax deductible because we were discussing work. It was more of an administrative meeting than anything, as we’ve had no time to consider any double act material together lately on account of our current lack of availability. That said, it was also a chance to have a bit of a general catch up, as we haven’t really seen each other since last month’s gig; as I said above, chances to get together are rare.

Meeting allowed me the chance to pass on the frustrations of my recent cancelled previews and Glyn the chance to fill me in on the challenges of juggling two young children (not literally). We tend to start most of our get-togethers these days with a general chat about where we’re both at before we look at work - even if time is tight - as it’s all part of being a double act; even though we’re not actively writing together at the moment, we’ve still got to feel comfortable in each other’s company, and that can only come from having the odd casual chat; work tends to expand or contract as according to the time we have for it anyway, so we might as well spend at least some of that time being sociable; after all, we are friends first

One thing I didn’t do today was work on my show, but that’s okay, as a long chat I had with my wife about it yesterday has helped focus my attention on what I needs to do next. It’s sometimes hard when I don’t have a director to see the wood for the trees without someone to sound off of, which was where this conversation was so useful. It reminded me I’m not that far from where I want to be, and gave me a few notes to focus on. Hopefully, I can have a long look at it all tomorrow and Wednesday, so I can put it down on Thursday when we’re doing Mostly and then comforably pick it up again for Friday’s show. Fingers crossed, it’s not this hot then; I’m done with sweating, damn it.
Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...
Read more

'...I'm Gonna Look at You 'til My Eyes Go Blind."

Over the past week or two, I’ve been on a bit of a Sheryl Crow kick, largely thanks to rediscovering her cover of one of my most-liked Bob Dylan songs. She has one of my favourite female voices, yet despite this, I only own one CD and that’s just a single (her '97 release ‘Hard to Make a Stand’); on that basis, you can only imagine how much of her back catalogue I’d own if I hated her (it would fall into minus-figures). Dylan, conversely, takes up more of my collection than anyone else, save The Beatles and Paul McCartney’s solo work. He’s one of those artists who, when you get him, you really get him - and once I’d tuned into his style as a student, I'd time and again be blown away by his lyrics; he’ll have more jaw-dropping imagery in one track than other people fit in a whole career. These days, I mostly listen to music in the morning when getting ready, and more often than not, this will consist of a suggested YouTube playlist when I’m in the bath, r...
Read more

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce...
Read more