The home of the haikulator



Sentence Generators
My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman

The Musical!
Incredible Productions


Previous Posts

Currying Favour
At The End Of The Day
Not Allowed
Doing It All
Early Night
Amusement Is A Big Thing
Unnecessary Ironing
Oh What A Feeling
Not The Best Start

Blog Archives

October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016
August 2017
January 2018
August 2018
September 2018
July 2019
August 2019
May 2020
June 2020
July 2020
August 2020
September 2020
December 2020
January 2021
July 2021

Thursday, October 23

Not Early, Earls Court

There is a time for going to gigs and that time should not be "a bit late". However, work will demand its share of my time, and I always put the gig second. I had a deadline to arrive at the gig by 7.30, though, and things were cutting rather fine.

Snarled up in traffic, way off the intended location of Stockwell, where I might pick up the Northern Line to go to Charing Cross, I gave up and discovered some miraculous free parking in Earl's Court. I hot-footed it to the tube, having had a relatively pleasant, though not entirely unstressful journey thus far. The stress was from the lateness, the pleasantness was from catching up with a friend in Edinburgh while doing it - the wonders of the handsfree kit.

But, as is often the case, the timeline at the actual gig is running in a different way to the one on the journey there. I arrived all harried and feeling late to find I was in plenty of time and could relax and get set up. The audience were a private party - a bunch of bankers, solicitors and real-estate agents (all that made up estate is so passé), all of whom wanted some comedians to cheer them while they tried to forget about the total collapse of the western money markets. Cheery cheery cheeryness.

It was actually an okay gig if you ignore the bizarre sound problems and the slightly awkward way the audience sometimes held back and sometimes tried to push a laugh out. Such is the nature of polite company. I felt a bit foolish doing my usual brand of shite in front of a room full of people in suits. However, there were some nice moments, and there's one of my new lines which I'm very proud of... even in intelligent company.

I left the gig fairly early and returned to Earl's Court. I temporarily forgot the way back to the car, but good old Google Maps, along with a vaguely GPS aware phone (I'm told you can upgrade it so it is totally GPS aware) meant it didn't take long to find the car again. Then I headed back to Reading.

With such an early night return, you'd think I'd maybe go to bed early, or even get some extra painting done. No, not me. I went to Tesco - the beacon of consumerism in a dark economical climate. I had a massive shopping list in my head of things to get for the cooking I planned for the weekend. In fact, on the way to the Tesco, a friend called and, after I'd guessed the solution to his broadband problem - a very accurate series of guesses, involving going to the exact options that were wrong and fixing them - he and I then guessed a recipe together. Though I don't normally cook, or even buy the sort of food that could be classed as ingredients, I like the occasional forays into home economics and this weekend had a particularly important recipe to be tried, one which I've made twice before, one as the principal chef. Last time I made it it was singularly not appreciated, but I decided to try it again, as I concluded that it wasn't appreciated owing to the tastes of the other person, rather than the quality of my catering.

And this is how a Thursday night can pan out. Running a full trolley's worth of goods through the self-service while people tut behind you and the woman has to intervene every so often. Whatever happened to the teamwork where she beeps it and I pack it? Not at the late-night Tesco, apparently? It's self-service or die.


Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2020 Ashley Frieze