I was not murdered or bummed in my bed by drug addicts and actually slept pretty well, though dreamed that Reliable Pete and me had got caught up in a nuclear holocaust in Scotland and were trying to escape back to England where no bombs had gone off. It was quite a realistic and thrilling dream and I was slightly disappointed to wake up and find that it wasn't true. Because waking up in Birmingham is worse than a post Apocalyptic Scotland. Which is really saying something.
We headed for Wales before lunch and disappointingly saw no towns being destroyed by warheads on the way.
Our hotel in Cardiff was not next to a strip club (unlike every other building in Wales - including all strip clubs), but the view from my window was of railway tracks and bit piles of steel wire. But the train line did not seem to be in use so I was hopeful that I wouldn't be woken in the morning by the screeching of metal.
I managed another run into town to pick up a few bits and pieces I needed. On the way back, I was waiting to cross the road under the flyover on a busy roundabout, when a gang of 13 year old Welsh boys on BMX bikes (or whatever the 21st equivalent is) rode along the opposite pavement and spewed out into the road, shouting at each other and at no one in particular, enjoying the freedom and mild intimidation of being in a group. I started crossing as they whizzed past and one of them leant towards me and shouted "Cardiff Biker Boys" in a half-heartedly threatening manner. I did not feel scared though. It was just some teenagers on bikes and I really wanted to say "Ooooooh," in a sarcastically impressed way and then add, "I've got a car."
But I thought they might all cycle back and beat me up so I just thought it and went back to the hotel.
Another packed show tonight and still really enjoying this. I think the healthy/boring living is helping me keep my energy levels high. Pete efficiently packs up whilst I sign programmes, then we carry the stuff down to the car, head back to the hotel and go staight to our rooms. There isn't even the opportunity for a drink, even if I wanted one. And nothing could be further from my mind. A part of me is a little saddened by the death of party Richard, but on the whole it's good he is gone. He was a bit of a twat. The tether of the boat that was linking me to the world of the young has been stretching for a while and now it has finally snapped and I am floating on the lake of middle age. I think the professionalism is paying off for the shows though and finally after 25 years the performance is more important to me than the disgraceful things that might happen afterwards.
I love gigging in Cardiff. There is an emotional link to the town because this is where I usually come to record my DVDs (
not this year though) but Wales was one of the first places to embrace Lee and Herring, with our similar slight outsider, freaky status. But the people here get me and I like them (much as I profess otherwise) and it's always fun. Tonight a woman on the front row started coughing loudly at the start of the second half. I asked if she was OK and she said she had a chest infection. I waved my hand over her and said "You're healed".
There was plenty more fun to be had, although I was sad to see that a man who had been sititng at the front who I had pretended to be annoyed with during the childhood story bit (as I always do) had left for the second half. Maybe he had just moved further back and out of the firing line, but he had looked a little sensitive and I hope I didn't embarrass him. But in a room of 415 or so people laughing it is always the one face that isn't enjoying the show that the performers gaze will fall upon. But you can't please all the people all the time and the general response was really good. This job does become a whole lot easier when this many people are in the crowd. Occasionally tonight as I looked out at this mass of seaweed eating idiots I almost had to pinch myself to believe that they had all come to see me. Tomorrow in Worcester may bring me down to earth with a bump, but for tonight it felt like I had made it. And if you can make it in Cardiff, you can make it anywhere in South Wales, apart from Swansea and the Blackwood Miners' Institute. Actually thinking about it, just in Cardiff. But it's still good.
