Squash Kings

Its amazing how days that seem like they’re going quite well, can, within the first 10 minutes, go very wrong. I woke up about 15 minutes ago. Ten minutes after that I received a voicemail asking where I was. It was only then my brain clicked that I was meant to be in a meeting at 11 about something that I quite wanted to be in a meeting about. Its times like this I very much envy Doctor Who or even Derren Brown. Doctor Who would just travel back to the appropriate moment and make the meeting in time. Of course he wouldn’t be attending the meeting unless there was some sort of problem, like a Dalek attack and to be fair I wouldn’t want to be at that meeting at all if the Daleks were there. Derren Brown could just tell everyone at the meeting ‘What meeting? Don’t you remember we rescheduled it for next week?’ And say it with such gravitas that they would all believe him and thus feel like the idiots. Sadly I have neither of those skills and so must just wallow in my own sad unreliability. Idiot.

It does not bode well for the rest of the day. Today begins a short 5 day trip away from home. Starting tonight with a preview in Leicester, followed by Friday and Saturday in Newcastle, then Sunday in Darlington and Monday in Eaglescliffe. Luckily all the gigs I am doing happen at night so it’s unlikely I’ll miss them, but I could do without even the slightest chance that any of it will go wrong. I don’t like going away from home for long periods of time. The month of August is a given and I’ve pretty much made Edinburgh my fifth home (first is my flat, second my car, third my parent’s house, fourth Fopp in Covent Garden) and so I don’t mind being there for a month, unless, like last year, it rains every bloody day. But other than Edinburgh I like my flat with my girlfriend and cats in it, so leaving it for several days is a bit sad. I’m sure I shouldn’t see it like that. A change they say is as good as a rest. Unless you fear change. Which if you do, must make paying for parking meters quite difficult. I’m really looking forward to tonight’ show. Its a preview at a small pub just outside Leicester and last night I think me and Layla worked out the ending of my show. Will try it tonight and if the people of Leicester chase me out with burning sticks I will assume it hasn’t worked. If they laugh, then chase me out with burning sticks, I’ll keep it in my show for my preview on Monday. If no burning sticks at all, I will assume that they are out of sticks.

Played Craine at squash again yesterday. It goes without saying that I am obviously getting better at hitting a squishy ball with a big racquet, which I am proud of. Those sort of skills are constantly needed in everyday society so I’m sure that the better I get at squash, the better I will be should the world be attacked by small rubbery birds that can only be destroyed by swatting them away with bats. Yesterday the rallies were a lot better and it ended up being one game all. We probably could have had another game but twice Craine hit it into another court and would have to go wandering for it. Everytime he did, an old man would appear above our court with the ball in hand and throw it down to me. It was like a hilarious game that Tom never found that hilarious. To be fair, the old man did then seem to just watch us play which was a little creepy. It makes his ball finding skills suddenly a tad suspicious. Our two games were also over dubbed by the people next door playing the angriest squash I’ve ever heard. Its very stereotypical of me, but I didn’t think the sort of people who played squash were also the sort of people who shouted things like ‘oi, what do you fink you iz doing you fucking eeedjat?’ Its nice to know that rudeboys have hobbies. We started a third match, which on the second point I made a shot that involve sliding on my arse and getting friction burn on my hand. As I was about to dance of lordliness, the old man and his old friend told us it was their go and we had to run away.

I’m liking this exercise malarky. What I like most was then going home and getting a take away curry knowing that that would entirely cancel out all the exercise I’d just done. As opposed to just making me fat. Hooray. Me and Layla then watched episodes 1-3 of Torchwood back to back. I like Torchwood. I’ve heard some criticism for this special five parter, but goddamn its a bit good. Its got everything you want from a Torchwood: Aliens, violence, the occasional swear word, and Eve Myles. Beautiful, beautiful Eve Myles. With her slightly crooked teeth, beautiful Eve Myles. I do love her a bit, with all her Welshyness. She can hunt down my Weevil any day. No, I’m not really sure what that means either. My favourite bit though was at the end of episode three when Captain Jack said he gave away children as gifts. As much as I love Torchwood, I think John Barrowman is a penis and I’ve always thought of him as the sort of person who would give children away as gifts. Damning evidence as far as I’m concerned.

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