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I'm easy like Sunday morning. Sunday morning was, ...
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The week, after Reading, had gone by reasonably en...
Compared to the car fires on Saturday night, the r...

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Monday, August 8

Monday mornings are not too easy. Somehow I managed to be awake and yet unmoving for much of the time between the alarm going off and the last few seconds in which I can remain in bet before becoming horrendously late for work.

I drove to the office at top speed and parked my car at the rear entrance of the car park. I was planning a speedy exit from that car park after work. The aim was to fly to Edinburgh in order to see three shows and maybe perform in two. I was looking forward to it.

Before that, though, there was work to be done and we did some planning and discussion and then I leapt into action on the tasks I had to do. I worked fairly hard over the course of the day, sorting things out and getting things done. I tried to encourage a workmate to join me in my 5 o'clock jaunt up north, even volunteering to treat him to the trip and shows etc. I was really on a high as I bounded down the steps of the office to my car. In fact, I was on such a high, contemplating my notes about the shows I wanted to see, that I walked past the car, comically having to double-back to get to it.

Something wasn't quite right, though. It took me a few moments to put my finger on it. The fragments of glass were a clue, and the absence of my guitar bag was a real clincher. I'd been broken into. It's now 90 minutes later and I'm sitting at home feeling really really miserable. Oooh the contrast. One moment, I'm off to Edinburgh to watch and perform, the next I'm sitting at home, alone, having lost maybe £600 worth of stuff I can buy again, and a trusty friend in the shape of my probably irreplaceable guitar (obviously, I can buy another guitar, but I don't know where I can get this particular model - if at all).

What a pisser!

The guitar bag also contained my mp3 player, which was never my favourite gadget, but had its uses and also had some recent recordings that I hadn't had chance to transfer to my computer. The bag also contained pretty much all the stuff I'd written down on paper for my stand-up. Luckily, there wasn't very much, and a lot of it I have in my memory anyway, but there was some stuff which I wrote down for reviewing later on... it's gone for good.

There's CCTV cameras in the car park, but the parking warden spent a lot of time bemoaning how shit they are. He's complaining to me about the security in the car park. I kept my temper. I really didn't want to mention the fact that the little bastards who work there were quick to ticket me for parking one space to the left, but can't even get their asses hauled out of their cosy little portacabin to wander around the car park to see if anyone's breaking into cars.

I listened to the circular conversation of the warden for a while until I felt my temperature rising, then I left. Murder of parking attendants is still illegal.

I've spoken to the police and my car insurers and I'm now off to get my window replaced with some perspex, to secure it. It will have to be replaced with glass when the part comes into stock.

Some people might say it's my own fault for leaving my back seats down and my guitar on display. I would say that it's probably (and indeed more likely) to be the fault of the little gits that smashed my window.

Well, I went off to get my window boarded up with perspex. This is a virtually pointless operation. They may as well have stuck a bin-liner to the car for all the good that the perspex will be. It's attached with gaffa tape, so anyone with... hands... could easily remove it.

I whiled away the time in the replacement windscreen place chattering to the girlfriend of the fellow who was sorting out the piece of perspex for me. They'll have a proper replacement window for me in the next day or so. That'll only cost me £50 plus the time and inconvenience of actually going along and getting it done. This is not much fun.

I'm quite upset to have lost my lovely guitar. It's been on stage with me so many times - I reckon about 225 times or so - and it never deserved to be stolen for some bastard to make a quick buck. I hope it's ok.

More later
I'm the other side of a shed-load of ironing. I feel a bit lighter of spirit, though still pissed off at the loss of my guitar and the inconvenience and everything. I've been watching Bill Bailey's Part Troll DVD, which I bought back in June. I've also been blogging some more, including the bit where I bought the DVD... not that I made a big deal of it.

I did some tidying up round the house, which would probably have gone undone had I gone to Edinburgh this evening, watched three shows and performed in two, as was my original plan. I also, in an act of taking care of the things I still possess, spent a bit of time with my bike. I oiled the chain, cleaned some of the mucky bits and fitted the bike stand that has sat on the floor of my house since I bought it some time ago. (Well, two or three weeks.)

I'm rapidly trying to plough through the missing blog items. It would be amazing if I could have this blog up to date before I leave for Edinburgh... that's probably not going to happen, though.


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