|Here's some proof that I was not making up the "Tweeting Beauty" show. here I am resplendent in medieaval bling performing "Rap-Unzel"|
|And here's the last night's audience at The Lastminutecomedy Club. Next year's show promises to be even bigger and better. Thanks to everyone who came along to it!|
I'd had an early night on the Friday in preparation for something of a blow out on Saturday and I did not let myself down. I spent most of the day being successfully avoided by Jasmine Birtles who eventually showed up to the Buffs Club about 9pm. By this time I had done my last show, had my free pint of Guinness off Frank the landlord (for being "Such a help", I think he had me confused with someone else) and got stuck into the red wine. I didn't realise she didn't drink. She runs the rather excellent Money Magpie website which has previously led me to acquire a set of professional kitchen knives for £1.99 amongst other things. We hadn't seen each other for several years and she was up in Edinburgh with her family who had bought tickets for a load of things she hadn't really wanted to go to which meant she missed the things she did want to, namely, my shows. Anyway - she was there now and bless her because she spent the next four hours or so watching me get drunk as we chatted about various things that became increasingly blurry. I think we ate in the Turkish place and drank in a couple of places on route to the Loft Bar where I had promised her comedians aplenty and blasts from the past to natter with. There weren't any. As time went on we saw a few of the usual suspects and I think she had a good time but I can't be sure. She made her excuses and left around 1am (I think) by which time I was a wibbling idiot. Baby sitting duties were taken on by a Swiss Yoga teacher who was a friend of someone I don't really remember talking to a week before but recognised me and then I think wished she hadn't as I accused her of really being American (And not being Swiss at all) for the next two hours at least. My apologies to anyone else I have forgotten to mention. Jools Constant was definitely around and there were several other comedians/agents that I chatted to but I don't think it did any of us any favours. I got a cab home, eventually.
The next morning (flatmate) Susan woke me up at about half past ten with a cup of tea and a spring in her step. To say I didn't need that would be an understatement. I dozed and grumbled until nearly 1pm and then drove her and her mate up to The Stand before going back to Buffs Club to oversee the dress down of the gig (As venue captain I was in charge of making sure everyone showed up to help). Obviously Princes Street was closed and I was taken on a variety of diversions that left me forty (Forty!) minutes late. Obviously everyone else had shown up, finished - and left again. Frank again thanked me for all my hard work (I'm starting to think he was taking the piss) and I drove back home, via the Newington Fish Bar for one last (brilliant) fish and chip dinner. It was Pollock. It was amazing. Packing was easy enough and I had got lucky in my part of the flat clean up in that I only had to vacuum the hallway. I managed it, had a fatherly chat with Grainne (other flat mate) and set off for Stonehaven, where I had my first "proper" gig for three weeks, compering the Town Hall's monthly show.
My refusal to get a Sat Nav is based on (I think) sturdy principles. I think they make you worse drivers, I don't think you learn anything about where you're going when you use them and most importantly I don't like being told what to do, particularly by posh women. A Sat Nav would, however, have come in handy as I tried to get to the Forth Road Bridge. I drove around North West Edinburgh for the best part of an hour before happening upon a sign for it and as I headed North the beautiful country opened up and I was soon in places I'd never heard of that were also areas of natural beauty. Stonehaven itself was also a lovely little place, the hotel was nice and I enjoyed the gig so much I offered to buy a pie at it. The people running the pie concession were enjoying what I was doing so much they gave me one for free and so I had my first ever mince & black pudding Scotch Pie. I'm not generally a fan but you know what - it was lovely. After the gig myself and Trevor Lock got better acquainted and successfully dodged the questions/requests of a succession of alcoholics as we chatted to the sound man who had stayed behind with us after the gig. He was fascinating, a local historian of some repute and it became apparent during our conversation that he had formerly been something of a rock star in his youth. I should have taken his photo really but forgot. Trevor used to work with Russell Brand and had a couple of interesting tales that are sadly unrepeatable here but were very entertaining at the time. We retired to bed not unduly late and I even made it to breakfast at eight. To find out what happened the next day, have a look at my unofficial openings blog as I don't really want to repeat myself here. By lunchtime I was ready for a good, if long, drive home. Eleven hours to be precise. Eleven glorious hours.
|Performing "Tweeting Beauty". Mother is so proud.|