Back into London early this morning to take part in more secret charity work that I don't like to talk about. Honestly if only I could talk about all the amazing things I do, you'd be astounded at how generous and selfless I am. But the whole point is that I say nothing and so that if you find out accidentally (by someone letting the info slip out in a blog or something) then you will realise how amazing I am. And selfless. And I can be embarrassed that the secret But I am not doing it for that reason. I am doing it for the benefit or whoever/whatever the charity is about - I don't know, I don't have the time to check out stuff like that.
My plans to keep my secret charity work secret have been blown out of the water, by the bloody BBC though. I thought I was coming in to record a secret charity appeal for SCOPE that no one would ever hear, but it turns out they're putting it out on Radio 4 on April 1st. The bastards. Apparently, they say, it will make more money this way, than my idea of keeping it secret. Which is selfish of them. They seem to care more about promoting their stupid charity, than how I might come across. After all the (secret) stuff that I've done for them.
Obviously it's not a popularity contest to see which appeal raises the most money, but it'd be nice for me if I can laud it over anyone else who has ever fronted a Radio 4 appeal, so I hope you will donate as much money as possible, not for whatever it is that SCOPE is about, but to ensure that I have bragging rights over anyone else who has ever done this slot. Not that I will say anything to them, as I like to keep my charity work secret, but so that I can pull a face that clearly expresses my disdain for them if I ever bump into them.
Afterwards I went back to my increasingly damaged house to use the broadband and pack up a few more items to bring over. Work is progressing quickly and we got to look outside at the back today, where the trench is being dug for the foundations of the kitchen extension. It's a little bit over a metre deep in most places, but there's a big section where the workmen are still digging and have not yet reached undisturbed soil. It's over two metres deep there and looking at it I think the only real explanation of why such a deep hole would be here is because of a wartime bomb. It's only a metre or so away from the back wall of the house, which shows how close my Hercules Terrace house came to destruction in the 1940s. There is a bit of an odd crack in the back wall of the house too, which suggests a repair. Adolf Hitler nearly took out my home, perhaps aware of the good work I would do in mocking him over half a century later, but he failed to stop me. Do your worst Hitler. You will never silence me.
To be fair if Hitler saw my house at the moment he'd think I'd done a pretty good job of destroying it without his help. Just as the rest of Europe has done a pretty good job of making his dream of a continent run by Germany come true. Am I right, folks? Is this thing on?
The archaeologist in me loved these trenches and wanted to get down into them to find out what was hidden away. The builders had found some broken plates and a cup with some metal smelted into the bottom, but no lost pirate gold. Or maybe they had found some lost pirate gold and not told me and kept it to themselves. Damn those thieving builders.
I picked up my post to discover that I had got my first driving violation of the tour. I was actually quite relieved to discover that it was only a fine for stopping in a box junction, rather than something that would have accrued me some points. I got it on the day I was stuck in traffic heading to Canterbury. I am pretty good at observing box junctions, so I assume that I was pretty much forced to go into this one by the slowness of the traffic. Had I observed the letter of the law then other traffic would have gone in ahead of me and I'd still be sitting there now. But screw it. I don't have time to contest it.
I was more annoyed when I got to Harpenden and discovered that I had somehow jammed the brakes on my bike when I had stuffed it into the back of my car. Hopefully it's something I can repair in the light of the day, but when you've got so much going on already these little inconveniences can hit you surprisingly hard. I'd got through the early start, the driving fine, booking my hotels for the next leg of my tour and realising how much driving there was (especially to get to Whitehaven, where predictably for Cumbria no one really wants to see me anyway), more wedding prep, finding out that I needed a new boiler even though the one I have is only four years old and much more without feeling any pain. But my broken bike made me cross and frustrated. Funny how our brains work.
The tour continues from tomorrow. Still tickets for all of the next five gigs I think, though Shrewsbury and the Warwick Arts Centre are very close to selling out. And Bridgend is only a tiny venue so book now for that one too. Whitehaven and Buxton however, have some way to go. How I will enjoy the six hour drive from Bridgend to Cumbria, which I didn't spot until today, mainly because I had no idea where Whitehaven was.
