Wednesday 9th of August, 2000
There wasn't actually a "Y'silly bugger," but it was implied.
It's odd that when you are going to have a day that you'd rather not encounter, that you'd prefer just staying in bed to, a walking-into-doors day, an accidentally-insulting-the vicar day, your body propels you toward it with unnatural haste. So mine woke me up at ten to nine. I didn't get up until half past, but I was awake.
A wisdom tooth seemed inflamed, and throbbed dully.
We were doing a preview show (Mervyn Stutter's Pick of the Fringe) at the Pleasance Over The Road (which is, coincidentally, over the road from us too. Only a different road). I had to go and get my guitar and bass from the Cafe Royal. So despite having woken up at 8:50, I didn't get to the Cafe Royal until 11:50 (supposed to be at the POTR at 12:00) trudging through the drizzle. There was a show on. I asked front of house whether they knew when there was a bit when I would be less likely to cause a distraction, wo I could collect the stuff then (I wouldn't need to go into the room to get them, but the "changing rooms"). They said no. In fact i couldn't go in at all (I do hate being patronised by children, even whe i have deserved it).
Up to the POTF, in the worsening rain, to tell the boys, see if we can get a later soundcheck, then back to the CR to wait for the show to finish, dash in and collect the guitar. The performers (Simon and Hilary, doing some kind of kids' show) seem surprised at my appearance and I explain my predicament.
"You should have come in and got them," says Simon. There wasn't actually a "Y'silly bugger," but it was implied.
They generously turn the rain back on just for me, and I catch a bus, assuming that it will be quicker than walking. They operate a Correct-Money-Only policy on the buses here, so I have my 50p handy, get on and... a tourist behind me wants to buy a travel card, which, it appears, involves a lot of writing and faff and the bus just sitting there (while the one that arrived just after it speeds ahead). Get there in time for the soundcheck. Do the soundcheck. Go back to the flat. I mean to get a paper, but in avoiding the people with clipboards harrassing passers-by for Save The Children forget to go to the newsagent. Do I take the umbrella going back to the show? The rain's stopped. No. Down comes the rain. Do the show (or our little bit of it). Back to the flat.
Do manage to achieve getting covers made for the demo CD (which I have now decided contains the wrong songs in the wrong order), and delivering it to Out Of The Blue (one of the promoters I spoke to on Monday), and collecting my card for Fringe Sunday. Whilst doing that I see that all the other things at around the same time in the Music Tent are musicals or choreographed shows. This will be fun.
(Irony alert)
What else? We do proper Jeays show, but I'm so nervous about breaking a string (because the spare guitar is back at the flat) that I play very tentatively throughout the performance. Consequently it feels very flat to me. I make a lot of tiny, but unnecessary mistakes. I think and hope that the audience enjoy it, though. But not thanks to me. At the back of the audience is someone who looks a lot like Nick "Momus" Currie. I cannot tell whether he liked it or not. I am expecting some scathing column on his website, citing us as a cause of the cancer that is eating popular culture.
I went to the Castle Bar after the show (where I played a spot last Wednesday). Very quiet, although I was assured that it had been busier earlier on. The headline was very very good, doing the kind of material that a lot of performers want to do, but getting it right. I thought "I'll remember that name" but have forgotten it. I am useless.
Home. Kebab. The end of Psycho II. Bed.