It’s sometimes difficult to start a blog when you’ve got the frustration of wanting to discuss something at great length, but you know you’ve to write about other things before it. So I’ll start with a joke… My favourite one, in fact…
Actually, no, it’s really long, so here’s the punchline: “Everyzing up until now vas satisfactory!”
HA!
Anyway, on with the show…
Last week, I got to witness Rob Brydon’s new stand-up show. I didn’t really know what to expect as it was his first tour as himself. Turns out, he gives good comedy. Me and Emma were sat in the front row (something I often avoid) and managed to escape being picked on. He told some stories, did some singing and embarrassed a fifteen year old. At the end, he came down to the crowd and high-fived the front row. I pushed Emma into trying to help him get back onstage and he climbed on her face but failed to get up. She needs “Rob Brydon hung onto me like a baby koala” on a tshirt. Other than that I’d just been doing some overtime until Friday when I had things that were good to look forward to.
Caught the bus to Edinburgh at 11.35am and was there before 3. Got some food and bought the History Boys on dvd. Nope, I’m not 100% certain as to why either. Soon, I met up with my sister and Jill and we were later joined by Matthew. We ate cake and I was given part of my Christmas present. A tiny camera. With a hamster on it. Winnn!
I ended up buying Jill some tea after checking out her flat. We sat in the Piccante for a long time talking about everything, but mainly things that infuriate us. We did consider going to the cinema, but opted for pub instead, then headed back to the flat where we spent about three hours on youtube watching videos to 90s dance classics… and Shaggy’s ‘It Wasn’t Me’.
Saturday made me shiver with every paper I delivered… The following may contain irrelevant information and too much detail, but my brain can’t comprehend what happened on Saturday, so I need to do things step-by-step.
I can only apologise in advance.
I woke up quite early and attempted to coax my phone into letting me onto Twitter. It took a good few tries, but eventually it surrendered to my charms. I figured out how to trick it into showing me my direct messages and remembered that I’d told Sir Linehan, who was in Glasgow the day before, to go to Mono and so asked if he’d found it and mentioned I was gonna make an appearance there later on that day to spend a voucher I’ve had for ages. He asked if I was in town and I told him that Jill and I were gonna be seeing Lily Allen in Glasgow that night, so were maybe gonna get a train there earlier than planned and do some shopping. He suggested we meet up for a drink. His reasoning behind suggesting this was, and I hope he does not feel I’m being indiscreet in revealing this, was that I’d kept him entertained on Twitter and am “obviously not crazy.”
And no, I wouldn’t normally mention this (except the not crazy bit, that made me laugh) but I like to think that’s another plus point for Twitter right there. I only joined in the first place because Sarah had said “It’s so pointless, you’d love it!” and Mr Linehan and Mr Fry were on there being natually funny and interesting. Now, I get defensive if someone makes some ignorant comment about it. It’s a lovely little site. If websites had human characteristics, it would definitely be sweet and naive and your favourite lovely character in a tv show.
So, after much thought as to how we would get to shop and meet up and get to the gig, I seriously thought I might have to consider turning the man down. But how could I? It’s not every day that your absolute hero expresses a desire to have a chat. (I also hope that if you’re reading, you might have blushed at “absolute hero” or at least gone “aw, shucks!” ’cos that’s what people do in cartoons, and life would be much better if it was more like a cartoon.)
Anyway, we said 4ish at Mono, but it was clear by the time that our amazingly slow train pulled into Glasgow at 3.20pm and Jill’s belly was a-rumbling that this wouldn’t happen. I optimistically plumped for 4.30pm instead. We went for food at about 3.30 and pondered what the correct way to indicate you want your free refill without holding your glass in the air until it has been filled is. None of our attempts worked. By the time we left, it was 4.10ish and I was freaking out a bit and was feeling nervous at the prospect of having to be charming and witty and lovely. At 4.15, Jill, a new Primark-deprived Edinburger discovered aforementioned shop. It was busy. I was running late. At about twenty to five, my anxious face was noticed and she told me to go, saying, “Listen, if Paula Radcliffe was texting me to tell me to go meet up with her, you’d tell me to go!”
I sprinted to Mono.
When I got there, I glanced around. It too was weirdly busy. Then I remembered it was a Saturday. And normal people go into town on Saturdays. I headed towards the record shop and saw the man himself walking up to the counter to buy some cds. I waited until he turned around and then, because I lack social skills and am basically a giant nerd, I, and I’m not ashamed of this (well… a bit), did Phill Jupitus’s Patented Twitter Gang Sign. Shut up, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
We shook hands and I left him to continue keeping independent record shops alive whilst I went to get us some drinks. We sat down at a table and what followed was two hours of utter joy. “Shooting the shit”, if you will!
There are points in your life where you resent being asked certain questions. For example, I’ve never been a 40yr old divorcee, but I would imagine they tense up when asked how the love-life is. At this point in my life, I dread being asked what I’m doing with myself. This was the moment that I was asked this by one of the people I look up to most.
“So, what do you do?”
“Um… well… not much, to be honest…”
Usually, at this point, most people would recoil in horror or hit me with a stick or spit on my lack of further-education, but this led to discussions of London and jobs there. I began to feel at ease.
Comedy was discussed, as was music, Twitter, politics, this blog, his blog, writing, the pro-points of limitations, London, bbc3, weird comedians, good comedians, technology and the bloody internet.
We were joined by Stephen from the Pastels, who co-owns Monorail and whom I’d met a few times before. He was, as ever, a delight. I couldn’t have wished for better company with these two guys. The conversation was interesting and generally lovely. I don’t know how much more I can say without the internet exploding under my gushiness. Stephen had to go and pretend to be working and Graham pondered how we’d go about making the meeting official, ie: getting it on Twitter.
It took a lot of time and attempting to download certain iPhone apps to get a decent picture, but eventually we got one that met our very high standards. It was taken by Jill, who I’d had to track down in just a tshirt after abandoning my jacket and bag at the table. She’d be angry if I didn’t mention she’d taken the photo (skillz.)
We had a few attempts before she turned up. This was the best one, but it wouldn’t send to sir’s iPhone…
Soon enough, we all had to leave get on with our lives, but I didn’t let him get away without shaking his hand again.
And that was that. Jill and I walked to the o2 to go and see Lily Allen, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to concentrate much as my mind was going mental. Ho ho. On the way there, I presumed the Tweet must have gone through as I got about 12 texts asking me what the hell was going on and a Big Issue guy talked us into buying a copy of his magazine. We discussed Annie Lennox. Then his homeless friend came up and shook me by the hand. I couldn’t help but think “Merely ten minutes ago, I had shaken Graham Linehan’s hand… now, a tramp’s…” Ah well, easy come, easy go: it was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.
We joined the hella long queue and were soon in. We were attacked by the air conditioning and as it was so powerful, I believe I may have shouted “It’s the apocalypse!” to which Jill pretended she wasn’t with me.
La Roux came on and I’m sure she was very good, but at this point, I was still running on adrenaline and wanted Lily onstage and I wanted it then and there. When she did eventually come on, she was amazing. And very funny. And I’ve only just discovered this. She looked like she was enjoying herself and was just generally fantastic. I feel a bit wrong giving her this tiny paragraph, but there’s not much to say. I expected excellence and she delivered. I would recommend her to a friend.
Jill stopped for noodles on the way to the train station. They smelled amazing. She ate them on the train where we were on the drunk-carriage and were roped into a sing-song of If Tomorrow Never Comes by the inebriated. Then a “spare prick” as he kept describing himself, came and sat next to us and made us laugh all the way to Edinburgh.
I managed to persuade Jill into joining Twitter which was another achievement. I don’t think she’s too hot on it, but at least she’s there. She’s now just using the word ‘Twitter’ as a noun, adjective and verb. I sometimes think she has a speech-impediment that has not yet been recognised in the medical profession.
Again, I awoke early on Sunday. I headed to the train station to go and meet Jill T.
OCH AYE it was good to get all the comedy-speak out there. The people I’m friends with up here can only stand so much of my inane chattering like a monkey. But, kindred spirits and all that. We exchanged stories and disappointment at restaurants and their crappy refills/cake policies these days. She went to Edinburgh the day before purely to get cake the size of her head from the Conan Doyle only to find out they don’t do it any more. Imagine! I was having a lovely old time, so much so that I lost track of how long I’d been there and realised I needed to catch a train back to the ‘Burgh or I’d miss my bus home to Aberdeen.
So, again, with a heavy heart, we parted ways and I rushed to the station. Got back to Edinburgh and walked with Matthew to the bus. It was then that I realised I could sit down and relax for the first time all weekend. Even so, I was still buzzing. Still am.
I got to work today and it was so dead that it just destroyed me. I was allowed the time to stop and think and I just felt overpowered by some weird, horrible force.
I need to act quickly.
Someone is calling you.
