Joyce

I’ve been in Canterbury for the last 24 hours...actually, technically last night I was in Whitstable but unless you’re familiar with the county of Kent those two places will actually seem very similar...Whitstable is a lovely place – the sort of place that will never feature on Sky news. There is simply nothing dangerous or terrifying about it all. Even the W in the name has been softened with an ‘h’ in case someone pokes an eye out.

I had a lovely gig last night with some very funny fellows (Fergus Craig, Paul Sweeney, Tom Goodliffe and Pappy’s) and I think I broke a rib laughing at Pappy’s headlining. It was a great night, and the first of a new set of shows from Chatback comedy who have been operating in the Kent area for a while now.

Today I reminded myself how much I enjoy Canterbury. Canterbury is possibly the most garlic filled high street in all of England. It actually has an Italian restaurant for every single resident within a 2.3 mile radius. It's really quite incredible. I discovered I don't enjoy taking a suitcase over cobbles but, really, I think that's quite a minor thing to discover at the age of 24.

I was taken to a vintage fayre today. It turns out that 'vintage' means old but still expensive which is erm, nice? I'll be honest, I don't fully understand it. It was explained to me that "If it's still fine when it's this old then it's worth paying for because you know it will carry on lasting". Sure. Ok. What? Why not just buy something new and if it doesn't last as it should do...take it back? Call me a modern cow but I just don't want to buy something that's grubby and being sold to me by a woman in a faux fur coat. I think I am mainstream. But I'm sort of ok with that. Because it means I get to wear new stuff.

I don't really understand the concept of bohemian indie stuff. It seems to be it involves spending more money on older stuff that is illfitting and essentially ugly but in a chic way? Bizzare. If it's ok with the world I'll just stick to jeans. Maybe with a nice hoodie. From Fat Face. Ok? Good.


I did buy some lovely red gloves today. From a chain of stores, not a stall. They go right the way up to my elbows and make me incredibly happy. They clash with everything but not in an intentional way that says I don't care what I look like. I care a lot about looking like a person who just goes about their day in clothes that keep them warm. They just clash because I wear a lot of green knitwear and the shop didn't stock green gloves that go all the way up to my elbows. So I have red ones. If it comes to it I'll buy red knitwear to match ok?


Tonight I am off to do the Laughing Horse competition gig. I've entered twice and never, ever gone past the first round. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Who the hell even freaking knows or cares anymore. But you know what, it's stage time and I'll take it. Whore.