wrong way round (236 & 237)

Forgive me for I have been sleeping. Yes, it's my favourite thing, but why change the habit of a lifetime especially after travelling around 1100 miles in a day.

I went the wrong way round.

Sunday night I found myself in the idyllic setting of Hartlepool. I use the word 'idyllic' with a pinch of irony - there are some nice bits, but there are some rough bits as well - just as every good Northern town should be. It's a bit like a senile old woman in that it has good intentions, but always ends up saying the wrong thing (which isn't always its own fault).

If you're from Hartlepool i'm sorry. You'll understand that being from Middlesbrough, nowhere else on Earth could really be worse.

The gig is set in a lovely venue, mainly used for live music - but its perfectly set out for comedy with a nice big stage and the whole floor featuring nicely arranged tables, each with a candle in the middle. This is a comedy essential in my book, and doesn't happen enough at gigs I go to these days.

I go on in the middle to do my debut 10-15 minutes, and it does go really well. I suffer incredibly because of the massive amount of bright lights shining on me (which means I literally cannot see anybody), combined with my ability to sweat bucketloads whatever the ocassion.

Some friends from back home come to see me, and they are really impressed. The last time my mate Rich watched me, I played a big gig to absolute silence - this was when I was just starting out, so the level of improvement in his eyes must be unsummountable.

I did well. My mates enjoyed it.

I left Middlesbrough the next morning to head to London - as soon as I get there I go to Robin Cousins' house, get straight into the car and he drives us to Penzance... a five and a half hour journey.

I am shattered.

We get there early, and after some delays the gig goes ahead. Again, I go on in the middle and do really well. I feel so shattered that nothing affects me at all, and this is reflected in my carefree attitude on stage - I love it when i'm like that, i just wish it would come more naturally, and not rely on me being either a) pissed, b) stoned, or c) shattered.

We're both due to stay the night with Natalie who now runs the gig - it transpires that there will be a party later on which all the acts will be going to, along with lots of lovely girls (no, really).

Robin decides he wants to drive home.

After a perilous journey with Robin being so tired he can't decide what lane he wants to drive in, I get home about 5am in the morning - i've been up for 21 hours, travelling for most of the day.

As soon as I get in, I make the sensible decision to go to bed. Much more sensible than my gig planning...