On Saturday we headed southwards to Harrogate for a stag night. The car was modified and fixed en route, which made for no end of lost confidence in its viability as our conveyance. I should point out that this wasn't my car, but that of a friend and colleague. The car defied our lack of confidence by taking us to our destination with no fuss whatsoever, though the absence of an aerial for the radio, coupled with a dodgy method of not playing tapes, meant that we had to entertain ourselves by playing "Who am I?". Fantastic game.
Arriving in Harrogate, we went to a nearby hostelry and had a couple of drinkies while the football was on. Then we went out for a meal. It seems that the effort of drinking a couple of glasses of wine and eating a bit of cheese was too much for some of our number. When we returned to the hotel for some of the lads to get changed, a couple of them sloped off to bed and never made it for the rest of the evening. Fair enough, I suppose. After all, it was nearly half past eight!
The rest of the stag night is something of a blur, but I know that it was spent toasting the groom and his bride's good health and that I may have even strutted some of my funky stuff briefly on a dancefloor. We hooked up with a hen party - in the loosest of senses - we met them, that's for sure. We drank drinks with silly names. We then left in search of some bad food to join the cocktail of bad drink.
I ended the night talking rubbish about the life science market in a small pizza takeaway in a Yorkshire market town. Most nights end this way. I'd also managed to indulge in more than one brief discussion on the subject of Musical theatre during the day's festivities. Oh, and I used the hen party as an excuse to plug the Edinburgh show - plug plug plug.
I don't specifically recall going back to the hotel, but I know I did it and I'm fairly certain that I remember going to bed. I certainly remember waking up. I woke at around 7am with a feeling of euphoria. I felt great. I needed the loo, but I'd survived the poisoning of the night before... or at least I thought I had. Until I moved. It seems that all of my body's fluids had come to a perfect equilibrium if I stayed in the position in which I awoke. Moving was a problem - it hurt somewhat. After visiting the loo, it seemed that it was hard to rediscover the position in which I'd been able to avoid the pain. I managed it though and went to sleep and dreamed...
...a series of murders were occurring and the principle subject was a woman in disguise. A lot of the murders seemed to involve people daubing the name of cheap sub-celebrity Jordan's name on walls in blood. It soon became apparent that Jordan was hypnotising the men of the country to commit murders, using her evil fake hooters of doom to control their minds. The violence had to end - but where would it end? This was certainly some sort of murder mystery, but where did the clues lead us?
I was in a supermarket. I'd gone there in a large left-hand-drive bus, which had been rather awkward to park. Realising that my passengers had left the door open, I had to return to the vehicle. Sadly a lorry driver had decided to park in the adjacent space - this shouldn't have been a problem, since the bus was left hand drive, but the only door was on the right and lorry was parked on the right too. The lorry had reversed into the space and had a trailer - sneaking past the trailer, I found a writhing person, tied up like a mummy - obviously awaiting being murdered by the lorry driver who was daubing Jordan's name inside his cab in red spray paint. Despite riling the driver, who chased me with the hack-saw implement of his Swiss-army knife, I managed to get into my bus and start backing out of the space and I backed into... into...
...never eat more than one pizza in a day. One of them was a quattro formaggio - that's one hell of a lot of cheese.
Eventually, I managed to find a sequence of water drinking, sleeping and waking which didn't hurt anymore and I awoke to a scalding (literally) hot shower and got into the car which was heading to Leeds. This was not the original plan - I thought I'd be off to find a bus, but no. I had a lift. We surprised the sister of one of our number with a visit and then I was dropped off in town.
First stop when you're in Leeds at lunchtime on a Sunday... lunch. A shop called Wrapid, which provided a very pleasant flat-bread-based lunch. Then I thought I'd buy some reading matter - perhaps a newspaper. I was stopped by a market research lady - she wanted my time and I needed entertainment. A perfect combination. I can't say exactly how I decided which brand of paint I considered "Aspirational" (that's not even a word!) or how I decided why I thought Dulux was "invigorating and exciting" (sounds like shower gel - and I've never thought of paint as a cleansing experience). Quite frankly, I've never met any of these paints as people, so how I'm supposed to answer anthropomorphic questions is beyond me. But we made some shit up and I suspect that's what the market research people are happy with.
In Smiths I found a book by a 16 year old mathematician on cryptography - for 50p. Bizarrely, I'd wanted a copy of this book for a while, so everyone was a winner: me, for getting the book, Smiths for selling the unwanted book, and the 16 year old mathematician for growing to the ripe old age of 21 and putting her writing days behind her.
Going for a wander I managed to find some refreshment and a place to sit and relax in the Merrion centre, where I was accosted by "The man who smelled of poo™" and chatted to a nice man about community projects. Then I decided to make more of the good weather and found an outdoor table to sit at in millennium square.
Then I mooched over to the comedy store and performed a couple of times. Once was a good performance with quite a good response, the second time was a good performance with no laughs - the audience didn't get it. In fairness, I don't blame them. Doing an odd character act to that audience was a bit like a live sacrifice on stage - and I was the the victim.
A good weekend. The lift home, from a different source, seemed to take next to no time. Bed came in its own time and everything slotted into place as I drifted back into the world where minor celebrities are evil deities, controlling the simple folk from the pages of the tabloids... I couldn't tell you what I dreamed, though.