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My futuristic Dutch medicine seems to be doing the trick and I was in only mild discomfort today. When I passed the Chemist today there was nothing there, just a saucer shaped hole and blast marks that seemed to indicate some kind of launch. It had clearly returned to its home planet or the future or the past.
I had had a very disturbed night. To give my wife a break from my snoring and myself a chance to spread out I had gone to sleep in the other bedroom in the flat we’re in, which is on a mezzanine level above the lounge/kitchen (it really is an amazing flat, well worth the climb and the Sherpas’ wages). We had had a slightly unsettling experience yesterday as we got back to find the front door of our flat wide open. We’d definitely shut it. I had let a maintenance man into the flats just before we’d left, who had presumably gone into one of the other flats as he hadn’t come to ours. But he must have come in whilst we were out (and the blinds in the bathroom had been raised so someone had been in). Everything was where it should be, but it was slightly unsettling. What if a crazy Dutch serial killer (like the guy from “The Vanishing†was hidden somewhere in the flat, waiting for us to go to sleep? I thought that even the craziest serial killer would choose a flat on ground level rather than risk those stairs. But it was still a bit disconcerting.
In the night I was woken by a strange crackling sound coming from the floor below. I thought maybe Catie was making herself a midnight snack, but when I called there was no reply. I looked down on the lounge and could see nothing that could be making the noise. When I came down the noise stopped. I closed a window and looked around, but nothing.
I went back to the bedroom and the noise started again. I looked down below me and again there was nothing obvious making the noise. Was the fridge defrosting? Or was, as I started to believe, there a Dutch ghost making its presence and displeasure known. Had the maintenance man also been a ghost. He had rung the front door bell bit then disappeared on the stairs. Had the ghost left our door open? I don’t believe in ghosts, but I was pretty sure that this was the only explanation.
I came down again to see if I could work out where the noise was coming from, but the ghost was scared of me and vanished. I went up and down a couple more times and the noise only occurred when I wasn’t in the room. I fell asleep and it woke me up again. I waited in the lounge for ten minutes, but the ghost only played when I was in the bedroom.
I was knackered in the morning, but managed a bit of work and wrote my Metro column. In the afternoon we could only muster the energy to sit in a bar, drink beer and read. It was really excellent. I am reading Bridget Christie’s book (she’s one of my guests on RHLSTP on Monday - unbelievably there are still some tickets) and it’s blooming excellent. If you’re interested in the genesis of a comedian and find sexism ridiculous then you’re going to have the time of your life.
Once back at the flat, dangerously tipsy after two leffe blondes (no one should climb ladder stairs with this much alcohol in their blood), I discovered a clue as to what had been making the noise. A big pack of unopened crisps on our kitchen counter had been nibbled at. There was a hole in the packet and someone or something had been eating the delicious contents. I realised that it hadn’t been a ghost after all, but a mouse, breaking its way into our snacks. That didn’t make me feel much better and it meant I had to throw away all the food that had been on the counter just in case. But also what kind of mouse knows that a crisp packet contains crisps? It wouldn’t have been able to smell the crisps. And could a humble mouse gnaw through a packet anyway. Maybe it was a rat that had done this. Or worse, it might still have been a ghost. Only a ghost would know that a crisp packet contained crisps. And ghosts must get hungry. There was a bit of what looked like mouse poo on the counter, but if a ghost can gnaw into a pack of crisps it can certainly frame a rodent.
I had a lot of fun doing an impression of a dog with a ball for my daughter who even though she’s never seen a dog with a ball still found my impersonation ridiculously hilarious. Her gleeful shrieks made up for the fact that tonight’s Friday audience were not so into my esoteric material.They liked the rude stuff I started with, but the bits from Headmaster’s Son and some new bits from Happy Now were not what was required. They were mainly polite about it, but maybe I should have done my more experimental stuff earlier in the week and saved up all the knob gags for the weekend. Still not a terrible gig by any means and I love the fact that my flat, the venue and the little bars we’re going to are all within five minutes walk. I don’t usually like to perform after I’ve been drinking, but this is like a working holiday and I am loving being with my family and still managing to get more work done than I would at home.
