Love Is…

As much as I hate the Valentine’s Day frenzy of crappy cards and pressure to spread love on the 14th February, being woken up this morning with a nice breakfast and a card was pretty lovely. I’m in a very good mood because of it, and the only worry is that I may be grumpy every other morning now that my morning expectation has been raised. This may be where I bring in the ‘but I love you every day of the year’ comments that I usually use to explain why Valentine’s Day is crap, instead to get a nice breakfast always. 

I did my bit too. I got Layla a big bunch of flowers and a card. I’m so glad florists exist for this sort of thing. I never really understand about flowers. I tend to work on the basis that as long as they are nice colours its probably ok, but florists have some whole other skill that allows them to put flowers together in a way that my girlfriend loves. I can’t see any difference myself, but having tested whether or not I could do it my way a few years ago, I will never forget the look of slight disappointment on Layla’s face as she said thanks then quietly re-arranged them all. I always wonder why flowers are a symbol of romance. I mean, for something that is supposed to be about ‘everlasting love’ they all die in about a week. Surely that’s the wrong message? ‘ I mean well, but it will all die very soon. Also if you are one of those people who studies flowers (a Titchmarshian?) then apparently blue is the romantic colour of flowers and not red. Red is the flower colour of …er…incest. Or something as bad. Probably. 
There was love in the air at my gig last night. Well, not so much love, but audience warmth which was good because a) it was Bournemouth, and I hate Bournemouth. Its my least favourite part of the Bourne trilogy. And b) it had taken me four hours to get there because other cars are arseholes. I remembered from the last time I had done this gig, that while they all looked like thugs and slags they weren’t, and the two men who sit right in the front and look like the Mitchell Brothers are actually lovely. This relaxed me from the beginning and nearly all of them went with me on a 35 minute comedy ramble about many things. One person who didn’t was an odd man in a tracksuit who kept running back and forth into the front row during my set. He said he was a baker but it looked like the only sort of cakes he would make were cocaine ones. After talking to him and getting nowhere (we discovered despite tracksuit he wasn’t doing any sports at the time, so I started suggesting his outfits when he did do sports. Loafers and slacks for footie etc. I enjoyed doing that, he didn’t) I left him alone and the rest of the gig went smoothly. Sometimes you just have to let an odd chav man run back and forth across your front row for things to work. That was my Confucius saying for today. 
When I got home I discovered I have some new Twitter followers which was very exciting. Apparently on asking them (for I am a nosey fella) they have all joined my bandwagon because they saw me messaging Tim Minchin about interviewing him. I did not realise it was as easy as that. I am now going to spend night and day pursuing an interview with Stephen Fry. I’m sure if that happened my followings would go up tenfold. Of course being only concerned with followers would be a tad shallow, but I am so sod off. 
No gigs tonight which is all good. Instead our day of romance will be spent taking Layla’s niece and nephew to the Science Museum. I am very excited about this and I am a little bit worried that I will neglect the children completely in order to press all the buttons and go on the machines first. If it comes down to it, they are very easy to push out of the way. There is little love in the world of science. 

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