I did not get much done over the weekend. I seem to have spent most of it in a tired phlegmy stupor. I was od'ing on Lemsip, and did very little at all. I did get some 'work'-work (data-analysis. Please hire me! I can type! Just like a real boy!) done, but very little creativity seeped out of my clogged-up head.* Having visited the doctor's on Tuesday, I was reassured to know my lungs were clean as anything and I just had a virus. Couple more days of Lemsip should do the trick, and I'm feeling far better now, thank you.
* The reason why this expression is funny is because I'm Dutch. And we do clogs like no-one does. Although not all the time. My last proper wooden clogs I had when I was 4, they were blue, and they had been hand made by my Granddad. He's 93 now, but he can't read this blog. Not because of age or visual impairment, he just doesn't speak English.
I phoned my mum on Tuesday and apparently she has exactly the same virus that I have. I don't know how that works. But it does. Arms across the oceans.
Later that day, when in town, I chanced my arm and went for a stroll out on Brighton pier. Yes, I was embarrassing myself totally by engaging in the most horrible, depraved act of self-righteous dickery. I went out, and I had a think. I took myself out for a good old wander and ponder. That is depressing, I know. I was reading a book on Freud whilst the waves were crashing down below, and the French people passed by. I'm turning into a teenage philosopher and I'm not sure I like it. But apparently it has to be done. It's a phase.
It was valuable, though, because I finally understood what people really like. Lights, shapes and colours. High squeaky major-key music blaring through bad sound-systems also help.
Wednesday was quite good. I had a gig in Bromley. Having seen the venue a couple of hours before the gig, I was terrified. A typical sports bar, flatscreen tellies lined the wall. This is troublesome for a man like me who doesn't go well with sports in general and sportsliking people specifically. I had a depressed moment in a Bromley Costa with a laptop, a Latte and a panini. That soon passed, probably due to the Latte which was good and the panini which wasn't. Low blood sugar and a 4 hour train journey tend to drain the life out of me. I am a weakling.
The gig was actually very nice. I did a bit more than I initially was going to do, but the (smallish) crowd reacted well and I met some lovely comics. That said, I did again have a weird heckle. At around the halfway point of the set, an elderly bearded man started dancing to my words. Literally. He just stood in between the stage and the audience and bounced up and down while holding a pint and looking in my direction (you can never be too sure with the elderly in South London). The only thing I could do was look at him, acknowledge what he just did, and ask the audience whether they thought I'd just been pulled. He left to sit down after that, but he did make me a bit scared to do the final bit, where I normally walk into the audience. In my mind, he could have got up and abducted me. That would not be good, because I don't think his industrial size freezer has got wifi; which would mean no more blogs. Yeah, what would you do then, huh? Not much probably, they have been a bit thin on the ground in recent weeks.
In the end, I got a lift from Bromley to Gatwick from friends of one of the other acts. This saved me and Sam (the other Brighton-based comic on the bill) the schlep from Bromley to Victoria, which would have taken hours more.
On Thursday, my brother arrived in Brighton to have a short holiday here. So far, we have been drinking, been to Komedia (first time since October) and have had some food. He also bought the biggest lighter in the world, to impress smokers with. It's good to have him here, especially as he's sitting right next to me as I'm typing this and if he wishes, can destroy me with a single blow. He is the tallest man in the world. Possibly.
As you can see, I've updated my gig list. There'll hopefully be some more on it, since I've only got 4 months left in England and I'm getting desperate (August will be Edinburgh, as per usual). From Thursday the 7th, I'll be in Glasgow for 4 days, so if anyone's got a spot on a gig there, I'm very much up for it. Tonight I'll be doing the Comedy Cooler again. The last time I did that gig, there was snow on the streets. Now it's quite sunny. Let's see how it goes.
Also, I'm quite pleased with the way March 2011 panned out. I think I've done more gigs this month than I've ever done before, as well as a play (Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead), a Masque (The Masque of Queenes) and lots and lots of other things. I also managed to waste loads of time as well, so no harm done there. The blogging will now increase, hopefully, since I've made a nearly complete recovery of the flu I had last week. Yay! In other news: the UK-based readership of this blog has finally over taken the Dutch. Don't let them win Dutch-land OR Way to go UK, keep on reading! I need this!
So take care blogosphere (is that how you call yourself? I'm not sure. But you must have a name, you anonymous internet-based readership, you) and I'll be back soon.
* The reason why this expression is funny is because I'm Dutch. And we do clogs like no-one does. Although not all the time. My last proper wooden clogs I had when I was 4, they were blue, and they had been hand made by my Granddad. He's 93 now, but he can't read this blog. Not because of age or visual impairment, he just doesn't speak English.
I phoned my mum on Tuesday and apparently she has exactly the same virus that I have. I don't know how that works. But it does. Arms across the oceans.
Later that day, when in town, I chanced my arm and went for a stroll out on Brighton pier. Yes, I was embarrassing myself totally by engaging in the most horrible, depraved act of self-righteous dickery. I went out, and I had a think. I took myself out for a good old wander and ponder. That is depressing, I know. I was reading a book on Freud whilst the waves were crashing down below, and the French people passed by. I'm turning into a teenage philosopher and I'm not sure I like it. But apparently it has to be done. It's a phase.
It was valuable, though, because I finally understood what people really like. Lights, shapes and colours. High squeaky major-key music blaring through bad sound-systems also help.
Wednesday was quite good. I had a gig in Bromley. Having seen the venue a couple of hours before the gig, I was terrified. A typical sports bar, flatscreen tellies lined the wall. This is troublesome for a man like me who doesn't go well with sports in general and sportsliking people specifically. I had a depressed moment in a Bromley Costa with a laptop, a Latte and a panini. That soon passed, probably due to the Latte which was good and the panini which wasn't. Low blood sugar and a 4 hour train journey tend to drain the life out of me. I am a weakling.
The gig was actually very nice. I did a bit more than I initially was going to do, but the (smallish) crowd reacted well and I met some lovely comics. That said, I did again have a weird heckle. At around the halfway point of the set, an elderly bearded man started dancing to my words. Literally. He just stood in between the stage and the audience and bounced up and down while holding a pint and looking in my direction (you can never be too sure with the elderly in South London). The only thing I could do was look at him, acknowledge what he just did, and ask the audience whether they thought I'd just been pulled. He left to sit down after that, but he did make me a bit scared to do the final bit, where I normally walk into the audience. In my mind, he could have got up and abducted me. That would not be good, because I don't think his industrial size freezer has got wifi; which would mean no more blogs. Yeah, what would you do then, huh? Not much probably, they have been a bit thin on the ground in recent weeks.
In the end, I got a lift from Bromley to Gatwick from friends of one of the other acts. This saved me and Sam (the other Brighton-based comic on the bill) the schlep from Bromley to Victoria, which would have taken hours more.
On Thursday, my brother arrived in Brighton to have a short holiday here. So far, we have been drinking, been to Komedia (first time since October) and have had some food. He also bought the biggest lighter in the world, to impress smokers with. It's good to have him here, especially as he's sitting right next to me as I'm typing this and if he wishes, can destroy me with a single blow. He is the tallest man in the world. Possibly.
As you can see, I've updated my gig list. There'll hopefully be some more on it, since I've only got 4 months left in England and I'm getting desperate (August will be Edinburgh, as per usual). From Thursday the 7th, I'll be in Glasgow for 4 days, so if anyone's got a spot on a gig there, I'm very much up for it. Tonight I'll be doing the Comedy Cooler again. The last time I did that gig, there was snow on the streets. Now it's quite sunny. Let's see how it goes.
Also, I'm quite pleased with the way March 2011 panned out. I think I've done more gigs this month than I've ever done before, as well as a play (Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead), a Masque (The Masque of Queenes) and lots and lots of other things. I also managed to waste loads of time as well, so no harm done there. The blogging will now increase, hopefully, since I've made a nearly complete recovery of the flu I had last week. Yay! In other news: the UK-based readership of this blog has finally over taken the Dutch. Don't let them win Dutch-land OR Way to go UK, keep on reading! I need this!
So take care blogosphere (is that how you call yourself? I'm not sure. But you must have a name, you anonymous internet-based readership, you) and I'll be back soon.
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