Then, tired and sweaty, I showered and headed out to my gig in Reading. It's my home town. It's the town, at least, where my current primary residence is. I should have gotten there easily.
I think I had the singularly most difficult last 300 yards of any gig I've been to in the last 3 years. Even with a sat nav, the last 300 yards can be the trickiest bit of the journey. Getting from the vicinity of the venue to being actually at it can be a bugger, especially when this venue is a glorified pool hall, hidden behind some other buildings on a road with no name.
I got there, I watched a lot of acts do their thing. Some were new. Some were experienced. Some were funnier and some were more interesting.
When I took to the stage, the night had already run its course. The audience didn't give a toss. I can't say that I was on top form either. In the end, having made some laughter, I cut my losses.
It was a gig in my home town for charity. I learned very little, but I lost nothing. I think we raised some money or something.