Tube strike did not affect my day at all today. I got to work on time happily and discovered I've actually been going the long way to work all along. Dumbass.
I'm lying. Of course the tube strike has affected my day. I have spent most of the day coming up with tube strike based puns to satiate my incredible need for bad jokes. These are my top efforts so far -
Consumers face the big question; Tu-be or not Tu-be?
A certain wookie would like to appeal for the cesation of his beatings. This is not a Tubeacca strike
Requests for brazillians go up ten fold as confused commuters face the prospect of a pube strike.
TfL bowling team set to ace 2012 olympics after extensive time off for strike action
How do you like them apples, huh? Well I'm pretty pleased with myself even if you are disgusted.
Funny Women semi-finals totally happened in a happening way last night. Unfortunately I was not lucky enough to pass straight on through to the finals. However, I have been put through to the curious 'Last Chance Saloon' at the Camden Roundhouse on the 18th. This seems like an odd concept to me but I'm perfectly happy to have another shot at getting my ass into that final line up. I have to say though that sitting in that dressing room last night among some damn funny women was a big enough reward in itself. Was crazy how good the company I got to keep was. Happy bunny was I. And then afterwards out to dinner with all the ragamuffins I'd dragged along to see the show. Aces. Chinese. Was Chinese food and our traditional Chinese waiter had a name badge on saying 'Barry'. I can't help but feel his parents were as experimental as parents from Hackney that call their kid Sitting Bull. It's nice to cross borders.
Pretty tired today but off gigging in Kingston tonight to try out some new material that I would like to get into general usage eventually. I've never been to Kingston before, I imagine it'll be a place where people are very friendly and constantly cursing the fact that they fucked up at the estate agents and didn't actually buy at the heart of the Jamaican capital. I may well be disappointed when I arrive. Time will tell.
I'm very content today. I think it's the lingering effects of the tube strike. The world really does take on a special sort of glow when there's a crisis for us to moan about. I think it speaks volumes about the mundanity of our lives that even a really irritating variation on everyday is welcomed with open arms. People are really enjoying having something to talk about and it's a flaming godsend to poor old Coleen Rooney who has been bumped from several precious column inches to make way for lambasting of Bob Crowe. Fa la la la la.
In other news, the best way for a quick self-esteem boost is to leave your phone at home I have discovered. I arrived back to find my phone on my futon with no less than 20 messages awaiting my beady eyes. Of course they were largely defunct given that I only saw them 6 hours later but I must admit I felt good. On tomorrow's agenda is to get a life.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Tent Hurdles
I have approxiamtely 5.5 hours to go until the Funny Women Semi Finals and it's safe to say I'm officially nervous now. Not nervous that I might not go through to the finals - because due to the nature of my sneaking into the semis I'm ok with resting here and being amazed at how far I got. I'm also not nervous that I'll die on my arse because I think it'll be a friendly crowd and I've heard great things about performing at the Leicester Square theatre and I have lots of people coming to watch that I don't want to disappoint.
I'm nervous about my material. I've chosen to wear only felt and velvet and this choice of material is seriously making me doubt how well I will do. It was bad enough sweating on the tube this morning and worrying about the strange looks I was getting - why did I think this would be a good idea for a gig? I'm pleased I opted for the cape as I think a certain level of swishiness always adds good things to visual gag. And the hat, well, someone would say it's too much but I happen to think stuffed animals are cool so I'm going to go with my gut. The trouble is I have IBS and therefore going with my gut is often shit. Crude but honest. That's the way today is shaping up.
I'm also worried about my other material. I have a big dilemma. The difficulty is that this competition is called 'Funny Women' and there is a big hooha and to do every time anybody starts talking about gender difference in comedy. Personally, I think it's both twaddle and true which leaves me baffled as to what to do personally.
Performing my strongest material tonight will mean I need to end the set on a frank discussion of my sexual inadequacies and use the word clitoris. This will get good laughs as it's material I perform often and it got me into the semi finals. But there's a voice in my head asking whether I should be performing this kind of material at a competition where there are only women performing. It's my voice in my head so I'm fairly certain it's barmy (not least because I just tried to spell cerain surten...oh faithful red wiggly line). But, by talking about sex am I -
a) Confirming everyone's worst fears that all women can talk about is their shit boyfriends and periods?
b) Subverting the expectation by talking about it from a different angle?
c) Performing honest material that I wrote and like and have every right to perform but am worried about doing so because of the afore mentioned expectations and the stigma they hold?
My theory is that a single woman doing comedy can be, and often is, just as funny as a single man doing comedy. They can be just as unfunny too. The difficulty lies in the material choice. We are used to men doing comedy and being everywhere as we are still dealing with the remnants of a very male orientated society. There was a time when 'blue' comedy was difficult to accept and people struggled to find it funny, but we got there. But we only got there with 'male orientated' blue comedy I think. We are now ok with men talking about themselves and sexual subjects. We're not 100% there with women yet. It's still been done badly and for shock value too many times and there's not been enough exposure to get people to accept that there isn't 'comedy' and 'female comedy' there's just 'comedy' or, if you really want 'male comedy' and 'female comedy'.
My worry tonight is that I'll either be totally generic and not stand out despite it being good material. Or I'll try something newer and slightly off the wall and feck it up completely because I'm in a tizzy. Is it better to bow out doing strong but not exciting stuff or to be exciting and know the material isn't ready yet? It feels delightful to even be worrying about this because it shows I'm in this competition far sooner than I should really be anywhere and so I have many years to contemplate it. But all this lack of penis really does both complicate and improve (because I don't want a penis or any other dangly bits thank you) any attempts you might make at being a funny person.
So, my dilemma remains. Perhaps I'll just put a bucket on my head and sing them a song.
I'm nervous about my material. I've chosen to wear only felt and velvet and this choice of material is seriously making me doubt how well I will do. It was bad enough sweating on the tube this morning and worrying about the strange looks I was getting - why did I think this would be a good idea for a gig? I'm pleased I opted for the cape as I think a certain level of swishiness always adds good things to visual gag. And the hat, well, someone would say it's too much but I happen to think stuffed animals are cool so I'm going to go with my gut. The trouble is I have IBS and therefore going with my gut is often shit. Crude but honest. That's the way today is shaping up.
I'm also worried about my other material. I have a big dilemma. The difficulty is that this competition is called 'Funny Women' and there is a big hooha and to do every time anybody starts talking about gender difference in comedy. Personally, I think it's both twaddle and true which leaves me baffled as to what to do personally.
Performing my strongest material tonight will mean I need to end the set on a frank discussion of my sexual inadequacies and use the word clitoris. This will get good laughs as it's material I perform often and it got me into the semi finals. But there's a voice in my head asking whether I should be performing this kind of material at a competition where there are only women performing. It's my voice in my head so I'm fairly certain it's barmy (not least because I just tried to spell cerain surten...oh faithful red wiggly line). But, by talking about sex am I -
a) Confirming everyone's worst fears that all women can talk about is their shit boyfriends and periods?
b) Subverting the expectation by talking about it from a different angle?
c) Performing honest material that I wrote and like and have every right to perform but am worried about doing so because of the afore mentioned expectations and the stigma they hold?
My theory is that a single woman doing comedy can be, and often is, just as funny as a single man doing comedy. They can be just as unfunny too. The difficulty lies in the material choice. We are used to men doing comedy and being everywhere as we are still dealing with the remnants of a very male orientated society. There was a time when 'blue' comedy was difficult to accept and people struggled to find it funny, but we got there. But we only got there with 'male orientated' blue comedy I think. We are now ok with men talking about themselves and sexual subjects. We're not 100% there with women yet. It's still been done badly and for shock value too many times and there's not been enough exposure to get people to accept that there isn't 'comedy' and 'female comedy' there's just 'comedy' or, if you really want 'male comedy' and 'female comedy'.
My worry tonight is that I'll either be totally generic and not stand out despite it being good material. Or I'll try something newer and slightly off the wall and feck it up completely because I'm in a tizzy. Is it better to bow out doing strong but not exciting stuff or to be exciting and know the material isn't ready yet? It feels delightful to even be worrying about this because it shows I'm in this competition far sooner than I should really be anywhere and so I have many years to contemplate it. But all this lack of penis really does both complicate and improve (because I don't want a penis or any other dangly bits thank you) any attempts you might make at being a funny person.
So, my dilemma remains. Perhaps I'll just put a bucket on my head and sing them a song.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Back In My Head
Sometimes my head is not a comfy place to be. I was all set for a fantastic blogaroo tonight in anticipation of a week of excellent gigs coming up but I've just had a small panic attack driving home from Somerset and the world is slightly out of skew. So apologies now if my grammar and general through track waiver in this here diary entry!
Had a beautiful weekend back in the shire. One of my favourite things about going back recently has to be my little brother. Out of my 3 siblings he is the only boy and he is also the youngest; this makes him a very interesting thing to observe as he gets older. I went through a phase of coming home and looking as his funny little form and worrying a bit that one day he would be taller than me and able to beat me up. I went home this weekend and my scrawny little rag of a brother is now a hench thug who, at 9 years younger me, is a good 4 inches taller and, it turns out, capable of pinning me to the living room rug for hours on end.
He also has a girlfriend that he refuses to introduce to me on the basis that he doesn't trust me not to mock her...he may have a point there. But I'm sure she's lovely and I wouldn't say anything too mean, at least until I'd worked out her boundaries for banter anyway.
By far my favourite thing about him at the moment is that fact that his voice is breaking. It is insanely fun. All of a sudden he's lost control of his vocal range completely and it's brilliant. Having lost all the higher ground on anything I might have been able to do to him when I could physically over power him I am clinging to the superior knowledge that I'm totally certain what pitch my next sentence will be in.
I've taken to asking him surprise stuff and then seeing exactly how high I can get his voice to go before he's comfortable again and the pitch grumbles back down to this new found low. Utterly stupendous. It's a bit freaky for me because he is my little guy and he is slowly turning into an adult. He had a haircut recently and has gone from looking like a sincerely grubby boy to a tanned teenager. Perturbing.
Does this mean I'm also getting old? Well, no. Because obviously I go home at weekends and fight him and mock puberty. Maybe I should grow up? Er, no. Because I always want to be able to go home and fight him and mock puberty.
So what if being this immature is holding me back from holding down a steady relationship or putting my heart and soul into a job, or buying a house or pushing my life in a general direction. So what. I get to eat gummi bears in a series of interesting ways, talk to my car and make interesting things out of napkins when I should be sitting quietly in a restaurant. So deal with it world. Maybe I am neurotic and mental and slightly too unbalanced to always understand totally but at least I am the world's best older sister. In my opinion. Probably not my brother's.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Homecoming Queen
So I'm back in the shire for a weekend that promises to be 50/50 fun and wondering why the hell anyone loves their family as much they do. Brilliant. I flaming love coming home - I love the smells, I love the people, I love being cooked for and I love the fact that there's very little different any time I venture back here. However, if anything has changed you can be sure my mother will take one of the two options -
a) If it something different about the house you will have it described 19 times before you've got there and then intensely pointed out and explained once you have arrived.
b) If it is something different about mum she will keep schtum about it until sufficient time has passed that she is allowed to point it out and then sulk that you didn't notice.
This time it would have been difficult not to notice what was different about the house as I arrived home at approximately 10 o clock to find my Dad in the front garden with a tile cutter and tried to go in the front door but then found we didn't really have a hallway floor any more. Hence; Dad with the tile cutter. By this morning he had laid all the tiles and then Mum paraded into room with the rug she intends to put over the new tiles. Have you ever seen a man die a bit inside? I have.
At present it is T-minus 6 hours to party and we still have no grout, no carpet on the stairs and no will to live from anyone left involved in the house improvements. So, why the party I hear you cry...well, my parents have somehow managed to spend 30 years married to each other. 30 years.
30 years is a bloody long time. I have not even been alive that long. For the moralists among you thinking - about bloody right; fair play, it probably is a good thing my parents have been together longer than I'm alive. Big society and all that.
But it is a little worrying that I struggled to sit through Inception without wanting to go and look at something different and here they are after 30 years, just not bored yet. They just wouldn't think about leaving each other. Bizarre. I love the idea of eternal commitment but I just worry I'll never be able to do the same. I've never stayed faithful to a boyfriend and this leads me to believe that I should either just admit that I'm not really the committed kind or I should work harder at looking for whatever it is that turns people into lobsters.
I think marriages would last a lot better if you could have a sort of 'wild card' month after the first 10 years - so the first 10 years starts as standard and then after that, one month per year is allowed to have a bit of extra dalliance in it. Fair. That way, you can expel all that curiosity that's built up without it having consequences and you'll quickly remember why you're with the one you're with. The worst thing about being cheated on is certainly the lying and the feeling like you weren't good enough for them; so if you were both in on it and understood why it was happening and that it wasn't a big deal - problem solved, no?
Maybe not. But either way congrats to the parents! 30 years is a blinding effort!
Friday, September 3, 2010
On being an elf
We had ears of green...red noses too,
Made balls of snow...threw them at you,
You thought to yourself...what a wonderful world.
I saw skies of, well, dark... and snow of white...
No bright blessed days, it's always fucking night...
And I thought to myself...what a curious place to choose to work for someone with SAD.
The colours on the faces, of children going by
Are also oddly symptoms, for serious hypothermi...(uh, don't point that out to the guests please Elf #2)
I see elves wrapping presents, outdoors by the hut...
They're really thinking....bastard paper cut...
I hear babies cry...what can you do?
Who brings a toddler out in minus 32?!
I see parents spoiling kids saying, 'Sleigh ride honey?"
They're really saying, "We've got SO much money!"
(Instrumental Break - cue 50 tone deaf infants warbling the only song you can be bothered to teach them)
I hear babies cry...parents try warming tricks,
More money than sense... indulgent pricks
And I think to myself...what a wonderful job...
I think to myself...Santa's a complete...joy to work with.
(Probably makes more sense sung? Will aim to perform it at a gig near Christmas...now, who wants to help me learn guitar?!)
Made balls of snow...threw them at you,
You thought to yourself...what a wonderful world.
I saw skies of, well, dark... and snow of white...
No bright blessed days, it's always fucking night...
And I thought to myself...what a curious place to choose to work for someone with SAD.
The colours on the faces, of children going by
Are also oddly symptoms, for serious hypothermi...(uh, don't point that out to the guests please Elf #2)
I see elves wrapping presents, outdoors by the hut...
They're really thinking....bastard paper cut...
I hear babies cry...what can you do?
Who brings a toddler out in minus 32?!
I see parents spoiling kids saying, 'Sleigh ride honey?"
They're really saying, "We've got SO much money!"
(Instrumental Break - cue 50 tone deaf infants warbling the only song you can be bothered to teach them)
I hear babies cry...parents try warming tricks,
More money than sense... indulgent pricks
And I think to myself...what a wonderful job...
I think to myself...Santa's a complete...joy to work with.
(Probably makes more sense sung? Will aim to perform it at a gig near Christmas...now, who wants to help me learn guitar?!)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
A tiny squishy cactus
Brilliant news has been flooding in to my lug holes over the last 24 hours. In no particular order they run along these lines -
1. I am a semi-finalist in the 2010 Funny Women Award Competition. This is sincerely epic.
2. The lack of alcohol in my system seems to make my hip less cantankerous - is this due to less drunken mishappery or because the alcohol affects the joints? We don't know. We are not doctors. Nor are we multiple personalities so I should have just used I.
3. I have amazingly supportive friends from all areas of life.
I had a realisation yesterday that I'm very pleased with the way I've handled friends and social responsibility over the years. I don't mean like I've handled them well in that I can grope and innapropriately touch well. Although I can. Fondle champion - that's me! When I got the good news re FWA yesterday I immediately sent out the obligatory text to my nearest and dearest asking if they could come and support and sharing the good news...what was really nice, was that replies came back from all stratas of my life so far. twas kind of like drilling down through different types of rock and finding a person from each level. I'm not going to take lots of rocks to the show though. Sedimentary in the first row would probably laugh significantly less than my giggling hordes.
There were positive responses from old school friends, college people, university friends, old workmates, current workmates and people I just know because I drink too much and this leads to a loose tongue. It was a really awesome feeling that I've kind of gathered all these awesome people up like a ball of selotape gathering dust under a sofa. Pretty cool. The thing is I really like all these people, and it made all the effort it takes to hold on to good friends totally worth it. They
may not feel the same at all but I care not - the point is that my phone beeps regularly and this means I am popular. I think. Or that I don't know how to switch off my alarm...
Ok. Gushing done. But it was a cool feeling and I urge people to take a peek through their phone book and remind themselves how cool all the people they've collected are. It's a bit like having top trumps or football stickers of your favourite things. It's funny because it was only yesterday I was looking at Facebook and looked at the number '737' as the quota of friends I've gathered and honestly wondered if I could 737 people I'd ever met - let alone ones that had bothered to electronically tag themselves (as a friend, not a criminal). Facebook is weird.
My friends really make me happy. I'm a complete people person. People are what make my world go round. I was making a list of things that make me happy and it's pretty much just people. I divide my day up into which radio presenter I'm listening to because I like their personalities, I then listen to stand-up rather than music because it's more interesting and then I spend my evenings socialising because I'm not thrilled about alone time.
I'm terrible if I've been on my own for too long - I get horrendously bored and this either results in me getting verbal diarrhoea as soon as I see someone I do know or I end up thinking too much and this can be very dangerous. Thinking too much for me is a regular and destructive passtime as it results in massive over inflating of issues.
For example -
"I really enjoyed the Edinburgh festival...can't wait until next year...mustn't wish my life away...I'm already 23...by next year I'll be 24...and I haven't even been to Asia yet...what with global warming I might have already left it too late for Asia...plus with the IBS I'd probably get ill if I went...so even if the world survives long enough for me to go to Asia I would poop a lot...probably better to not go...so there is very little point in anything as it'll all end one day...no point even looking forward to Edinburgh next year...might as well just eat pringles on the sofa until I'm sick...but I wouldn't be sick, I would get stomach ache...because I have IBS...which means I can't go to Asia...and the polar bears are dying...and I'm not going to still be alive this time next year..."
And it's a terrible cycle of melodrama. Terrible.
So I keep people around to talk to. Keep them in jars. Not really. But I probably would if I could.
1. I am a semi-finalist in the 2010 Funny Women Award Competition. This is sincerely epic.
2. The lack of alcohol in my system seems to make my hip less cantankerous - is this due to less drunken mishappery or because the alcohol affects the joints? We don't know. We are not doctors. Nor are we multiple personalities so I should have just used I.
3. I have amazingly supportive friends from all areas of life.
I had a realisation yesterday that I'm very pleased with the way I've handled friends and social responsibility over the years. I don't mean like I've handled them well in that I can grope and innapropriately touch well. Although I can. Fondle champion - that's me! When I got the good news re FWA yesterday I immediately sent out the obligatory text to my nearest and dearest asking if they could come and support and sharing the good news...what was really nice, was that replies came back from all stratas of my life so far. twas kind of like drilling down through different types of rock and finding a person from each level. I'm not going to take lots of rocks to the show though. Sedimentary in the first row would probably laugh significantly less than my giggling hordes.
There were positive responses from old school friends, college people, university friends, old workmates, current workmates and people I just know because I drink too much and this leads to a loose tongue. It was a really awesome feeling that I've kind of gathered all these awesome people up like a ball of selotape gathering dust under a sofa. Pretty cool. The thing is I really like all these people, and it made all the effort it takes to hold on to good friends totally worth it. They
may not feel the same at all but I care not - the point is that my phone beeps regularly and this means I am popular. I think. Or that I don't know how to switch off my alarm...
Ok. Gushing done. But it was a cool feeling and I urge people to take a peek through their phone book and remind themselves how cool all the people they've collected are. It's a bit like having top trumps or football stickers of your favourite things. It's funny because it was only yesterday I was looking at Facebook and looked at the number '737' as the quota of friends I've gathered and honestly wondered if I could 737 people I'd ever met - let alone ones that had bothered to electronically tag themselves (as a friend, not a criminal). Facebook is weird.
My friends really make me happy. I'm a complete people person. People are what make my world go round. I was making a list of things that make me happy and it's pretty much just people. I divide my day up into which radio presenter I'm listening to because I like their personalities, I then listen to stand-up rather than music because it's more interesting and then I spend my evenings socialising because I'm not thrilled about alone time.
I'm terrible if I've been on my own for too long - I get horrendously bored and this either results in me getting verbal diarrhoea as soon as I see someone I do know or I end up thinking too much and this can be very dangerous. Thinking too much for me is a regular and destructive passtime as it results in massive over inflating of issues.
For example -
"I really enjoyed the Edinburgh festival...can't wait until next year...mustn't wish my life away...I'm already 23...by next year I'll be 24...and I haven't even been to Asia yet...what with global warming I might have already left it too late for Asia...plus with the IBS I'd probably get ill if I went...so even if the world survives long enough for me to go to Asia I would poop a lot...probably better to not go...so there is very little point in anything as it'll all end one day...no point even looking forward to Edinburgh next year...might as well just eat pringles on the sofa until I'm sick...but I wouldn't be sick, I would get stomach ache...because I have IBS...which means I can't go to Asia...and the polar bears are dying...and I'm not going to still be alive this time next year..."
And it's a terrible cycle of melodrama. Terrible.
So I keep people around to talk to. Keep them in jars. Not really. But I probably would if I could.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Bang went the girl
Well, my joy at today lasted a stupidly short time...I arrived in Swindon for my 11am meeting only to find out that the man I was meant to be meeting is on annual leave. What a kick in the teeth to be told, as a person who has just come back from holiday, that the people you need to speak to are now still enjoying their holidays. Gutted. So, I'm now in Swindon with not enough internet connection to do any realy work and not enough money to buy any more coffee having just spent £40 getting to my non-existent meeting.
The problem now is that I'm in a lot of pain and don't have anything to distract myself. My body is literally falling apart - who knew a person could exist on solely adrenaline? As the morning has gone on the walking has reminded my hip that it is obstinately intent on remaining nomadic. Dickhead.
The recurring back strain that I so gloriously avoided during my Edinburgh runs is back with a vengeance and I've now decided it's largely due to carrying a laptop around and sitting on trains all the time. For this reason I've decided to stop carrying a laptop and going on trains - which is going to make my job hard. But not too hard because chances are the right folk wouldn't have been at my meeting anyway.
But now, what new pain is this dear body? My throat has decided that it wants to swell up ever so irritatingly but seemingly only down one side. I have that bastardly annoying thing where you feel fine until you swallow (shut the fuck up gigglers I'm moaning), and then all of a sudden you realise that the Numskulls have been giggling and have inadvertently mowed up parts of your soft squishy throat that should have been left clear alone. I have now gone from hopeful to grumpy - leaving me with the belief that "yes" getting up early in the morning is euphoric and beautiful, but you should definitely go back to bed before every other irritating fucker gets up.
This must be why Edinburgh was so good - I was nocturnal. And drunk. Perhaps it is the lack of alcohol and the dawning realisation that I am many many years off being a full time comedian talking, but I am grumpy.
So I thought I would make a list to cheer myself up - a list of things that are upcoming that I am excited about.
1. Going to Somerset this weekend to see a small boy and a big family that I love.
2. Going to Brighton the weekend after to see many friends that I love.
3. My birthday. No party plans as I hate clamouring 'IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY' but I really enjoying being able to think quietly in my head 'it's my birthday' and know that it's only true for that one day a year.
4. Back to Canterbury to see in another Fresher's week with LOADS of friends that I love.
5. Hallowe'en. I like playign with pumpkin pulp.
6. Fireworks night. I FUCKING LOVE FIREWORKS MORE THAN IS HEALTHY.
7. Many more things before Christmas.
I feel better.
The problem now is that I'm in a lot of pain and don't have anything to distract myself. My body is literally falling apart - who knew a person could exist on solely adrenaline? As the morning has gone on the walking has reminded my hip that it is obstinately intent on remaining nomadic. Dickhead.
The recurring back strain that I so gloriously avoided during my Edinburgh runs is back with a vengeance and I've now decided it's largely due to carrying a laptop around and sitting on trains all the time. For this reason I've decided to stop carrying a laptop and going on trains - which is going to make my job hard. But not too hard because chances are the right folk wouldn't have been at my meeting anyway.
But now, what new pain is this dear body? My throat has decided that it wants to swell up ever so irritatingly but seemingly only down one side. I have that bastardly annoying thing where you feel fine until you swallow (shut the fuck up gigglers I'm moaning), and then all of a sudden you realise that the Numskulls have been giggling and have inadvertently mowed up parts of your soft squishy throat that should have been left clear alone. I have now gone from hopeful to grumpy - leaving me with the belief that "yes" getting up early in the morning is euphoric and beautiful, but you should definitely go back to bed before every other irritating fucker gets up.
This must be why Edinburgh was so good - I was nocturnal. And drunk. Perhaps it is the lack of alcohol and the dawning realisation that I am many many years off being a full time comedian talking, but I am grumpy.
So I thought I would make a list to cheer myself up - a list of things that are upcoming that I am excited about.
1. Going to Somerset this weekend to see a small boy and a big family that I love.
2. Going to Brighton the weekend after to see many friends that I love.
3. My birthday. No party plans as I hate clamouring 'IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY' but I really enjoying being able to think quietly in my head 'it's my birthday' and know that it's only true for that one day a year.
4. Back to Canterbury to see in another Fresher's week with LOADS of friends that I love.
5. Hallowe'en. I like playign with pumpkin pulp.
6. Fireworks night. I FUCKING LOVE FIREWORKS MORE THAN IS HEALTHY.
7. Many more things before Christmas.
I feel better.
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