Its my first showing of my first show tonight. There has to be a first for everything apparently and I’m looking to tonight’s show with excitement and absolute fear. I think I cracked what its all about yesterday and have written so many new bits for it this week that I’m proud of so hopefully it’ll resemble some sort of decent hour. Either that or it will definitely resemble a bumbling idiot reading things of a pad while people just about appreciate that at least the venue is warm. I really have no concept of how much I’ve written either. I could have 45 mins of material or an hour and a half. I hope the audience bring provisions…
My mental clock is normally pretty spot on for gigging. By mental clock I mean my ability to tell how long I’ve been on stage and not the clock in my living room that has the ability to warp reality on the hour every hour. I don’t have one of those, but I wish I did. Normally I can tell if I’m doing a 10 or 20 minute set pretty easily, but last night, for the first time in well over a year, I under ran. I’m not sure how that happened. The gig was so lovely and I couldn’t have been enjoying my time on stage more, but realising I was only meant to be doing 15 minutes, I lost track of when I started, panicked and only did a mere 12 minutes. 12 minutes? 12 minutes? Last week I was accidentally doing 35 minute sets instead of 25, and now I’m in capable of hitting past comedy puberty.
It was a great gig though. Our second night at the Comedybox was even lovelier than the first, with the sort of audience you wish were at every gig. Some nice MCing by the very ill John Robins, and then a top response for my set, followed by Juliet storming it too. Just what you want really. Although what I really wanted was to do 3 minutes more material.
My tickley throat didn’t prove to be a problem last night, but then managed to make me wake up three times by forcing me to cough in my sleep. Two of those times made our cat Rosie, who was very comfortably asleep, stroll over to my face and look at me like I had ruined everything. Its amazing how sometimes our cats can give me such a look of hate that I feel more sorry waking them up than waking up Layla. Hopefully I wont cough all the way through tonight and fingers crossed my cats aren’t in the audience if I do.
Sorry for an all over the place blog. Tomorrow will either be a blog of sheer joy and relief or a mess worse than this due to 40 people throwing things at me in a confined space in North London.
