I got my new car today. I say "my" and "new" as though I go out buying things and get them to keep. In fact, I exchanged one company-provided car for another, since the one I was giving back was past its maximum mileage, and my next one was waiting.

Don't get me wrong - it's deeply excellent to get a car with 11 miles on the clock - it's just not something I can claim actual ownership of. It's only a car too. It's useful, but not something life should be centred around.

Anyway, I used the car to drive to Woking to pick up a friend. On this occasion, I didn't need to summon her to my location with tap dancing. We then headed to St Leonard's, near Hastings, where the gig was to be held. To be honest, this was a weird gig. It was fun, but it was weird.

I wasn't sure how playable the audience were going to be. Their demographic was unusual, not even eclectic, more of a cry for help. The room had a domestic kitchen in it and they were cooking during the show. The line up was too long and too varied...

... but a comedy friend of mine - LG - hit the stage and did well. I saw, from his response, how the room might work. He's done this before, taking on a seemingly unplayable room and making me see it differently. So, I went out there and did my thing. I had some good interactions with the audience, including the woman who shouted "Do you know who we are? Jan, tell him." prompting me to tell the story of Joel Douglas, Kirk Douglas's son. It got a laugh.

We left the gig, bound for home via Clackett Lane Services (where we confused the man at Costa with jauntiness) with the memory of laughter and job well done, a fight well fought. That's what happens when you gig in Hastings.