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Saturday, November 27

Another few days away from the blogging. I've done a lot of things, but not many of them are interesting enough to warrant the attention of a web-based diary. I'll try to summarise.

After the exertions of heading to London on Monday night, getting frustrated by the bizarreness of Blaized Carmey's show, and then heading back on the train, writing my mammoth epic blog entry, Wednesday was bound to be rubbish. It wasn't a day that contain much of note.

I had planned to go to see a play, or maybe see some comedy. As it happened, it made more sense to stay in the house and get myself an early night. This I did. There was a good reason for it too. I was due on a plane the following morning - back to London.

So, I watched some TV, ate some food, climbed under the duvet and disappeared into the land of Nod. Not a bad end to a day. It's quite unusual for me to go to sleep on the same day I woke up.

I woke up at 4.45. Yes AM. Quarter to 5 in the morning. I'm usually still awake then from the other side. Not actually true. Usually isn't the correct description of how often I'm awake. Occasionally. Not usually. Still, it's not a time I like to be awake - whichever side I approach it. It's worse, though, for it to be a getting out of bed time. Anyway, I got my shower, got into my car and drove to the airport. I was in reasonable time for the plane without feeling like I'd overdone it. I met my other work colleagues for this trip and we jumped on a plane to London.

I read my book. It's The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. This book forms the background material for the latest Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, which I hope to see at some point next year. Probably late in the year if my current plans are anything to go by.

We arrived in Stansted airport, which the pilot of the plane had referred to as London. It's not London. It's far away:

Anyway, we got our Stansted Express train to Liverpool Street, then walked from the aforementioned station to the Ironmongers' Hall of the Barbican Centre where the conference, the purpose of this trip, was being held. We arrived within 5 minutes of the start of the first keynote speech. The wrong side of the start, but not enough to worry anyone.

A day of conferencing and we ended up in a pub - the "Pull My Finger", or something like that. After the pub it was a meal and after the meal it was late night drinks at the hotel. I remember going to bed very late, having spent the entire evening talking about work with a workmate, whom I've known for years. It was just like what happened on his stag do. We had drinks and went on about work. Weird.

Sadly, my brilliant ability to get up on Thursday was followed by a lack-lustre awakening on Friday. I rose at the time I'd planned to, but had, in my foolishness the previous evening, calculated a foolish time to plan to get up. I had to miss breakfast, grab a shower and rush across town to be back at the conference. The hotel near Liverpool Street station had been very good. Sadly, our route back to it the previous evening had been circuitous - we were almost lost. We weren't lost, or we'd still be there, but we just hadn't grasped exactly where we were going for much of the journey. This meant that when I left the hotel I had no idea of which direction the conference-centre was. After about 3 minutes' pithering, I found myself on track and got myself there about 5 minutes earlier than the keynote speech. Result.

Lunch on Friday was pretty poor. The food was smashing, but the quantity was so limited that I was confused. Were they winding us up? Were these bitelets of food just the starter for some fat-ass steak dinner to come? No. Very unsatisfactory. Man cannot live on coffee and biscuits.

After the conference, we made our way to Liverpool St. Then took the Stansted Express to, well, Stansted. Then it was time to hang around waiting for the plane. I chose to hang around well known sandwich and coffee establishments. These proved most refreshing.

Arriving in Newcastle airport, more of my book read, at about 10.30, I had time to pay the £25 parking charge. Twenty five quid. Are they mad? For 2 days? They're taking the piss! I then had time to drop a workmate home before going back to my house for cheese on toast. Toast is a great food.

That's today, and not much has happened so far. I've had some more toast. I've watched a DVD that arrived in the post this morning - it is a DVD of a performance I gave during the York Comedy Festival. I got a few good laughs, I also had a real tussle with the audience. This appears to be down to a lack of control and timing on my part. I can see some basic ability in what I did, but it's patchy. I think I've learned a lot, mainly confidence, since then. I didn't cringe watching the recording, which is something.

Blaized Carmey
After blogging about "him" on Tuesday, it seems that he's taken to blogging about me. I got a text from a friend on Thursday indicating that Blaized, in his weblog - Blaized's Dairy (sic) - has published all the emails we've swapped since June. I don't know what purpose this serves either of us. It appears to be a responsible posting of our correspondence, in that my email address and mobile number have not been quoted.

Since Blaized is a fictional character, nothing that has passed between us can, by definition, be confidential. I'm still waiting for the climax of this story. Why is there a Blaized? Who is doing it? For what possible reason?

It remains to be seen, I suppose.

The weekend stretches ahead. More reading, I think.


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