Yesterday I performed four times and got rather tired. I ended up having an early night. The shows generally went well, and I even managed to have an evening meal at a sensible time. Outside of stuff on stage, the only ridiculous thing I did was giggle my arse off at this:



The story of the day for me, though, happened when I was waiting for the room to become available for The Seven Deadly Jokes. All of a sudden there was a commotion in the hallway; a troupe of people were clamouring to find out who books slots in the venue. I pointed out that this is all a pre-booked festival and there weren't rooms available at random for shows.

The leader of the group then told me that they were running a youth band from Merseyside and that their gig had been pulled - they were trying to find an alternative. I realised that there might be a way to sneak them onto the bill of the cabaret show that happens every night in that venue, and I even had my own slot on the bill last night, so I could happily withdraw and give it to the band.

I told them to wait in the bar and that I'd make some phone calls. I first needed to track down the person who does the booking. I managed to ring around for her number while getting the props for our show from the storage cupboard. Then I called her.

I told her the situation while the band members watched me in the bar. There was a tension in the room. I discussed how it could be made to work. The lady I was talking to, the delightfully sprightly Lynn Ruth Miller, didn't even miss a beat. Of course they can play. I got details for when they would have to arrive and so on and then hung up.

"You've got the gig" I declared. Then, in a fit of karmic balance, I accepted their offer of an audience for our show, and what might have been an audience of 6 turned into 16. We had a good show as a result.

I even went to see them perform in the Cabaret in the evening. How lovely.