There are times in my life where I really wonder exactly what I’m doing. As I walked down Seven Sisters Road with a bunch of clementines in one hand and a Tolx 27 screwdriver in the other, I had a moment of clarity where I realised that I must’ve looked like some sort of fruit DIY loon. What would people think of me I wondered. Perhaps thoughts of me heading home to try and attach clementines to my walls like citrus shelves or maybe just a madman who’s going to go home and smash up fruit. I’ve been known to to do this before, so that thought wouldn’t have been uncommon:
Instead all the people I passed didn’t even bat an eyelid. I just joined the hoards of weirdos I live near, and I comfortably headed down my road waving at the mad lady dressed in leopard skin jacket and skirt singing to her 70’s walkman loudly whilst dancing on the corner. I think I finally fit in.
Its already been an odd day. I had to wake up earlier than normal in an attempt to write this blog before I went to my audition. Sadly my interwebs have been playing up and I wasn’t allowed access to the world. As we are all connected I can only assume all of you were affected this morning and everything just stopped for a while. It appears to all be fine now so I reckon someone hit the ‘ON’ switch or plugged it in or something as that’s how it all works I understand. It was odd because it threw my morning out completely. My routine when I wake up is to stay in bed for ten minutes wondering why I need to leave bed. When I’ve finally persuaded myself with apt reasoning that I must leave – arguments for include things I may have to do, the need to pee and that I don’t want bedsores – I turn the telly on to This Morning, have a wee, make some tea, check emails, facebook, write one tweet then blog. As I was up earlier than usual This Morning was not on, I couldn’t use the net at all and I forgot to make tea. Needless to say everything was thrown out of control. Being the sort of chap I am, I manned up, got ready and headed out to my audition. I won’t say much about it, incase anyone who does that sort of things is reading this, but lets just say ‘reality tv’ is not what I expected the ‘topical’ conversation to be about, and that I now understand how Dr Faustas felt when he sold his soul to the devil. We will see what happens.
What was nice was the collection of comics sitting in the Camden Coffee House who had all endured the same audition. A large group of comedians, were gathered together and we spent a good while drinking coffee and complaining about things. There was also some non-complaining and general chat, but what usually happens when you get that many comics in a room together is angst at comedy things and so we didn’t let routine down. If comedians meet and don’t get bitchy about something then all our brains fall out so it has to be done for survival. FACT. I was meant to escape early to go visit Georgie and finally meet his dog Howie, but Howie was not well and throwing up. Dog sick is not on my list of favourite things so I abstained. I’m not sure if anyone would put dog sick on their list of favourite things to be fair and if you have done then you really need to look at yourself and ask why. Dog sick is nowhere close to being as good as ice cream, pretending to be spiderman or hitting fruit with DIY tools. So wanting to avoid canine vomit, I stayed and the group whittled down to just myself Tiffany Stevenson, Carl Donnelly and Roison Conaty until we all decided that if we kept drinking caffeine things would go wrong and we all left.
Since then I have been a proper man and fixed our washing machine. Hence the screwdriver. It was a very specific tolx screwdriver and I had to go to our local DIY store and ask for it which made me feel even more of a proper man. Then I got home, realised I’d got the wrong one and went back, completely detracting from any previous manly appearance. Its all sorted now though and there is a small mountain of washing to be done. Before washing I’m considering hiking up it for Sports Relief. So this will now be my next few days. An endless cycle (see what I did there) of clothes cleaning. Once again I look at my life and wonder exactly what I’m doing.
And no, you can’t know what the clementines are for.