Rather than head home after the Derby gig only to drive all the way back to Nottingham on Sunday I decided to stay at my
super posh Derby hotel for two nights, chill out and do a little bit of writing. My girlfriend was also coming up, which was a rare treat as I haven't been able to see her very much for the last month.
I had also thought I might use the gym or the swimming pool, but that did not happen. I am chubbing up good and need to do something about it. But in my heart I know I am destined to yo-yo for the rest of what little remains of my life (if I keep eating and drinking at this rate anyway).
Actually the hotel isn't massively more expensive than the others I have been staying in (and parking was free - other hotels can charge an extra fifteen pounds for that) and the good night's sleep I got in the extraordinarily comfortable and massive bed made it more than worth the extra dosh. Being here for two nights was maybe an unnecessary luxury, but it was a much needed break from the stress of performing and driving and I saved about 50 quid in petrol (as well as untold damage to the environment). Not that I need to defend the decision.
I managed to crack on a bit with the book and catch up with a bit of sleep and listen to the people in the next room indulging in some afternoon delight, though for the first few minutes I thought that there was a dog being maltreated somewhere nearby. So it was far from a wasted day.
I didn't get to watch the funeral of the Primark Princess, Lady Jade Goody, though I did notice the floral tributes laid out for her, pictured on the BBC website that someone had created a picture comparing Jade Goody to Marmite, in that you either loved her or hated her.
I hope that when I die someone will make a collage or a floral display using an advertising slogan to sum up my life. Maybe "Like Shake n Vac he put the freshness back" or "Like Bodyform he was built for confidence, bodyform for you" or "like Compare the Market dot com he was never actually in fact mistaken for the fictitious Compare the Meerkat dot com." Something along those lines. Please do not let me down my loyal followers. Turn my death into a massive mawkfest and festoon it with placards whose only cultural reference is the advertising industry. It will be a fitting tribute to my life. In fact can all the mourners dress up as the 118 118 men? This is what I want. Even if my death is particularly tragic or sinister. It'll be nice to put a smile on people's faces and subliminally advertise some products at the same time.
There can be no greater tribute to be compared to Marmite.
It seems to me she lived her life like some Marmite in the wind. You either loved her or hated her. Or were ambivalent to her. Though no one mentions that option generally speaking.
