Sickness and Sunshine

I should really go outside today. I haven’t got a reason to go outside but there is the innate British part of me that is saying I must see a bit of the sunshine. I saw it yesterday, lots of people parading around in shorts and t-shirts as though it was the height of summer. The actual temperature was given away to careful observer by all the goose pimples on these peoples arms and legs and the look of realisation at how cold they were. I know its a bit chilly outside and I also know that sunshine does not make my area any nicer to stroll around in. Its not as though I live by luscious woodlands, or a stream or something. I live by Seven Sisters Road, and strolling along that just means I’ll probably get lung cancer from all the fumes. Or stabbed by a child. Yet I have that odd little voice in my head saying that if I don’t go outside today I might never see the sunshine again. I remember last year when I nearly got rickets thanks to rainfall in Edinburgh and I have a deep fear that I may never see it again. At the same time, I need to do stuff on the computer and until they invent the internets on grass, trees and bushes, or create a laptop with a screen you can see when its sunny, then I may as well stay indoors. Going outside also means I have to put on proper clothes instead of my pajamas. Although I do live by Seven Sisters Road so I doubt that many people would notice if I didn’t.

Fat Tuesday was lovely as always last night. An extremely strong bill with a nice and slightly rowdy but not nasty crowd. They mostly consisted of students, with the three noisiest ones being medical students. This always worries as to the future of the NHS. I got booed when I said I was diabetic (it wasnt meant for that bit but it got booed nonetheless) and Ray Peacock got asked a loud ‘Why?’ when he said he had been discharged from hospital to be at our gig. Neither of those are nice bedside manner responses and I fear all patients of that future doctor. With any luck they’ll just become a GP and that sort of rudeness will be expected. Ray had actually left hospital to do our gig, a fact that made me both very happy at how much top acts want to play Fat Tuesday, but also extremely concerned throughout the whole show incase he keeled over. I think that getting ill is the only downside of comedy. You don’t get sick pay so you have to keep working and often acts will get onstage feeling like they might vomit or die everywhere. I did a gig once in the deep dark depths of Bangor in North Wales that involved going onstage after 6 and half hours of straight driving with no breaks. I had started to get quite a bad headache towards the end of the journey and then felt really sick. As we left the car I had to run to the loo and be sick. Three times. Then I ran backstage with a pounding headache and tried to snooze for 20 minutes before I went onstage and compared the first half. As each act went on, I ran back to the green room for more sicking and mini-sleeps. I felt terrible. But onstage I acted normal. Of course all the students wondered why I was so pale and smelt of sick, but no one ever questioned it. I presume that is the criteria for a normal person in Bangor. In any other job I would have been sent home, but unfortunately that would have meant driving 6 hours all the way back and I don’t think that was much of an option either.

If Ray had keeled over last night I’m not 100% sure what I would have done. Part of me would have though ‘Ooh better call an ambulance’ while the other part would have thought ‘this is great publicity for our gig’. Ray survived, which I thought was all rather selfish and now there is no way we’ll get in the Guardian. Not only did Ray stay ok but he, Danielle Ward, and Luke Toulsen were all brilliant, as was the 20 mins of new material from Russell Howard. In fact it was annoyingly good considering it was all new. I did some new stuff, which didn’t work quite as well. I’m not bitter or anything. Well I am though. Bitter and anything. Must work harder methinks. There shall be no work today though. I’ve got a night off which is all rather good. It means I can assure Layla I still exist and catch up on such priorities as seeing what Jack Bauer does next and maybe even watch some more of the Wire. Before that, you never know, I might even go outside.

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