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Too wired from the gig to sleep, but my son made sure that I’d stay awake anyway and with maybe two hours rest behind me I was up and driving my daughter to her gym class. I was looking forward to it though. It’s fun playing with her on the equipment and to be frank the running around at the start is often my only exercise of the week.
She’s moved up an age group due to her insistence on growing up and so we were with all new kids and parents. One of the dads looked a bit like Matthew Perry from Friends. I don’t think it was him though. Not sure he has kids or lives in Hertfordshire. Matthew Perry was probably thinking the same about the bloke who looked like his fellow 1990s superstar Richard Herring.
I took off my shoes and followed my daughter to the gym, but was turned away at the door. Apparently at this level the parents don’t get to come in the gym any more. You can watch through the windows, but that’s not the same. "You can relax for 45 minutes†said the woman at the door as if I should be pleased. But I wasn’t pleased. Time with my daughter is precious and now I was going to be spending time instead with a man who was either Matthew Perry or looked a bit like him. As tired as I was, this was not a great result.
But I admit seeing her running around all smiles and burgeoning independence was cool. She did forward rolls and jumped off stuff that I’d have been nervous to let her jump off. She doesn’t need me any more. I am struggling to think of a time she has needed me. I guess when I squeezed out the sperm that was going to be her (I am so old that they come out one at a time now). But since then….
The rest of the day was a bit of a struggle, even with an afternoon nap in the mix, but luckily tonight’s gig wasn’t far away and it was another sell out. At Cambridge Junction where I had once experienced the archetypal metaphor for show business, when the buzzing crowd had evaporated into the night and I had sat in the Travelodge opposite, drinking alone, unwilling to go back up to my room where a large bogey of a previous occupant was still on my shows curtain.
No Travelodge tonight though, but I struggled a bit to work through the lurgy. Was it my microphone that was cutting in and out or my own ears? It turned out it was my ears. But I had to check with the audience. But once I was over that bump it was a relaxed show and I improvised some new bits. It feels like a strong show this year and I am getting nice comments afterwards in person and on Twitter (in spite of me making it clear that I am not interested in individual opinions), most gratifyingly from people who have never heard of me before and have been dragged along or taken a punt. The surprise on their face as they tell me they liked my stuff is the best thing about it. I think because generally people can’t believe that someone who isn’t on telly would be any good. It’s nice that the gatekeepers of the industry are trusted so highly by the public, who must be thinking, “Well Paddy McGuinness isn’t the best comedian in the world, but we have to assume that he is the best one availableâ€. But if you’re not checking out live comedy then you are missing out on so much. Take a punt on your local comedy club or on a tour show from someone you haven’t seen on the idiot’s lantern. You will be surprised.
An old friend met me for a quick drink after the show. Her partner was playing in the band that was on in the other venue. She too was ill from a lurgy picked up from her kids, but we managed a beer and a catch up. It might be a decade and a half since we last chatted properly. Between us we have co-created four human beings since then. Even touring a show with my age in the title has not made me comprehend how quickly the years have flown. At least I wasn’t alone in a Travelodge.
