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Thursday, December 6

Mr Kipling Had It All Wrong

If you read Mr Kipling's diary, he'd always be talking about lemon frangipans or cricket in the pavilion or heaven knows what. In fairness, it's possible that the real Mr Kipling didn't keep a very British diary, or even that he was a figment of some marketing manager's imagination.

"We've got these sweet things to sell. How? I know, I'll invent a very British sounding person. Mr.. erm... Wilde... no, too Irish... McDougal... well, it's sort of quite Scottish... how about Jones? Mmm, could be taken to be a bit too Welsh for the home counties. How about something that has a hard sound at the beginning, hits the lips, then the tongue and requires a swallowing guttural end. Kuh Puh Luh Nng. No. Kuhpuh Luhnng is a Korean table tennis player of a name. Wait! Kipling! Of course. Mr Kipling. Janet - hold all my calls, I'm going for a celebratory wank!"

Anyway, my diary is nothing like Mr Kipling's, so I conclude that he's wrong. Simple, really. Today was a day in 3 halves. The fact that a half is usually paired, and I had three of them is a good indication of how today went. I woke up later than I'd hoped, having fallen into a near coma-like sleep from the previous two-day awake session. I'd managed to get to sleep about 41 hours after the previous time I'd been asleep, having cycled about 24 miles across the two evenings I'd been awake, and having eaten a whole bunch of stuff, been to London twice, been to work about 3 times, and having endured a fair old degree of stress... and fun... even fun can require endurance after a point - see me in Edinburgh in August for more on this.

Once awake, I went to work in the main office. I did some things about the place and I need not list nor remember them here. Then I went to work in the office of a company I'm working with. This wasn't even half two of the day, just an extension of half one. The advantage of going over there was that I got to nip to Waitrose for a smoothie and some toiletries, as well as get changed into my jeans, anticipating later halves of the day. I even got to digest my lunch on the journey, which was good. Normally, I don't have time to even breathe in the office, so digestion takes a back seat. Lunch had been a rather nice roast of lamb, which is not my usual luncheon tipple here, so it was good to have the time to digest it. I'd be holding back a tide of poo in the car journey later on in the night, but for now my ass-tsunami was nowhere to be seen, and I was working across two offices and trying to keep things in sync. Many emails.

Half two began when I started the solution to "The Bolton Problem". This problem had been worrying me since Sunday. Basically, I had a week at work where I had a lot of work to do and I also had a little too many out of work commitments for comfort. It was possible to cram them all in, which is why I allowed them into the diary. However, the Bolton gig tonight required me to open and be there earlier than I'd comfortably hope to be at a gig in Bolton on a work night, especially with traffic being what it can be. "The Bolton Problem" seemed to require time travel, or some break in the laws of physics or other. Perhaps it could have been like the "Philadelphia Experiment". Things with a place name in them seem to go together well. Totally off topic, I discovered recently, during a conversation, that all three spin off series from "Happy Days" have two people's names in their title "Laverne and Shirley", "Mork and Mindy" (yes, it was) and "Joanie Loves Chachi". Apologies. I'm going well off topic here. I can't help it. I've a woozy brain.

Between you and me, the solution to the Bolton problem had been to make a best effort to get there and ring en-route if I had to run late and hope that the promoter didn't mind swapping me with the middle act, who is a very experienced comedian and could have very capably opened the show better than I did. However, the problem was solved without the use of a Tardis, fictitious US Naval apparatus, or lame excuses. I simply left a little earlier than normal, safe in the knowledge that the ridiculous amount of work done between Tuesday and Wednesday was more than enough to justify a little clawing back of time for my own purposes.

I was slightly later than hoped in Bolton, but I got there and I did my gig and I had a lovely time. The audience were very nice, very responsive and I was in funny spirits - handy for being a comedian. I stayed to watch the second act and then scooted off home. Owing to a problem with not having petrol, I added about 20 minutes to my journey, going out of my way to the nearest petrol station, but such is life.

Half three was the late night drive home. I visited Tesco first for food and some essential groceries I'd forgotten to buy in Waitrose earlier (and more smoothies, of course) and then I had a long drive home. It's 200 miles. I've not done such a long drive in recent weeks, and even with the long drives I have done, I've had company, either in the car, or on the phone. I rang round people and there is always the risk of the occasional cheeky text... but I was largely just in my own company. For hours. Hours and hours. It's weird. I'd forgotten how lonely that can be. When you're tired and your mind is on little more than getting home, it can be lonely. I would have preferred access to my mp3 player where there's comedy to put on to make me engaged and amused, but the car doesn't yet have a good means of mp3 player playing, so I can't do that yet. I'm working on it. (Well, I should, but I've been too busy.)

My third half of day was the bit where I did the long drive home, got home, got relaxed and ready for bed, and then got to sleep. It was a mini adventure in its own right.

Mr Kipling and his pies have nothing on me!

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