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Four solid hours of RHLSTP records in town today and a real test of how well my recovery is going. I hadn't slept great and in the morning at the breakfast table was struggling to remember basic words and names and thought, "Well this isn't a good sign." But by the time I was in the studio in London coffee and adrenaline had done their job and I didn't even feel tired at the end of the session (though did mentally crash on the train home).
I am in two minds about how long I will continue with this podcast - it's been almost 15 years and we're approaching 1000 recordings if you include Edinburgh, the Book Club and the specials/cancelled shows - but on days like today I remember why it's difficult to quit.
I had four absolutely charming and interesting and funny guests and the time just flew.
First up was Bella Hull whose dedication to comedy and mixture of confidence and low self-esteem remind me very much of myself. She will be a huge star (and is already doing pretty well).
Then some proper international TV and film stars who unbelievably are returning to Edinburgh to do a sketch show, Charly Clive and Ellen Robertson. They have been friends since they were 14 and have a deep love and respect for each other, which should never be the foundation of a double act where competition and contempt are the key attributes, but somehow it works. Unstarry, down to earth and refreshingly honest. I am a huge fan of Rooster and Charly is amazing in it and Ellen is an amazing actor, so I was slightly starstruck, but we had a great time. Then I did two podcasts with my gorgeous friend of many years, Lucy Porter and it was just fantastic to catch up and be bamboozled by the fact that we are now middle-aged.
I'd found this picture of us at Challenge TV's Celebrity Poker in 2005 (here are my blogs about the record (
day one and
day two). We were both so gorgeous. How did we resist one another? Somehow is how.
We didn't discuss this today, but she was also one of my 50 dates in 50 days back in 2004 (
this one was Lucy) and I had had a really fantastic time with her as that blog attests. I remember there was a huge cartoonish disembodied head hanging from the ceiling as one of the exhibits and breaking all the rules of the gallery she had got behind it and pretended the head was her head. What a brilliant woman she is. I am sure I fell in love with her for the day (as I did with about 30% of the people I dated in that stupid but incredible two months) but she was very clear on the fact that she wouldn't date a comedian.
She would later marry comedian and actor Justin Edwards.
She was even good at letting me down gently.
We are both still gorgeous and still able to lark about. I so enjoyed these chats with these clever, charming guests. Maybe I should only have women on from now on.
Before the record I'd popped into Pret as I usually do. I tend to record from 11-3pm so need a small second breakfast to get me through. Sensibly I was wearing my mask in London - I saw my haematologist yesterday and although my immune system is still compromised, my medication should protect me somewhat and I am OK to go out as long as I don't seek out people who are coughing and spluttering and get up in their faces.
The woman behind the counter was very friendly and asked me how I was. I am in there a little bit and so I thought she might remember me (forgetting about my mask). I said I was well.
She took my order and then again asked how I was. I realised that the mask gave away the fact that something was up. I told her I was in recovery. She told me that God was looking out for me. I said I was glad that someone was. She asked me if I believed in God and I told her that I didn't. So she said, "But you believe in some kind of force out there that will help you?" I had just come in for a coffee and a popcorn bar. I wasn't expecting a philosophical discussion. I said I believed in the doctors who were treating me, but that wasn't what she meant.
I wasn't sure of the ethics of an employee talking about religion to a customer, but I honestly liked this. Once upon a time I might have been cross that someone was pushing religion on me, but this wasn't coming from a place of conversion but of concern. She wanted me to be reassured and hoped that belief in something, or anything, would help me through whatever I was going through.
Again from some people I might have found that offensive. Maybe I had something that no amount of prayer and hope would cure. Her intentions were good and a little part of me could believe that she was a messenger from the Universe that I believe to be cold, dead and unthinking to say that it was looking out for me. The person serving you at Pret is just meant to let you pay for your sandwich, maybe make the smallest of small talk and possibly give you a free coffee. To be getting into this at 10am in this situation felt like a hidden fun Easter Egg in the video game that is life (sadly it's being played by unpleasant teenagers who think it's funny to torment you, but that makes the random connections with the other characters in this simulation all the more valuable).
I thanked her and didn't push against her ideas as I might once have done, but accepted her truth, even though I know we're in a simulation controlled by teenagers who hate us. I loved this little weird interaction.
