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Phoebe is keen to get a youtube channel and become famous. Tonight at dinner I told her that being famous wasn't as much fun as it might sound. I told her to imagine that people were coming up to us while we were eating and saying, "You're Phoebe. I love you!" Her eyes widened. Of course this was exactly what she wanted. I had chosen a poor example.
I then told her to look how things had been for me on holiday, barely able to do anything without someone coming up to me and telling me they loved my stuff and trying to get autographs and selfies.
She countered that that hadn't happened at all and I said that that was because my fans are too cool to bother me on holiday, but they're all looking at me in silent awe.
It's like I didn't want to put her off her ambitions at all.
And there is a tiny amount of truth in that final statement. The tiny percentage of people who have recognised me have been very respectful. I've had the odd nod from a dad in the swimming pool (which I assume is an acknowledgment that they have recognised me, rather than secret code that they want to bum me in a cabana) and a couple of tweets from dads (it's always dads) saying they hadn't wanted to bother me when I was with my family. The idiots. I was trying to show my kids how terrible my super famous life is and they've made it seem like a breeze.
Joking aside I am very lucky to have achieved this Goldilocks level in my career where I am well-known enough to make a comfortable living, but not well known enough to get mobbed in Bella Italia. I am basically anonymous, apart from to a very select demographic of middle-aged men.
The holiday is fun but exhausting and I was very low energy today, finding it hard to cycle up the hills and feeling like a zombie in the pool. I also look like a zombie in the pool, but so does nearly everyone. At least all the ones who are parents. I am sure I've said this before but the pool at Center Parcs really lets you see the devastating effects of parenthood, both psychologically and physically. Catching sight of myself in the mirror in the toilets in my swimming trunks is not a pleasant sight. No wonder my public are shunning me. But luckily for me I don't stand out. All the parents are fucked. Do not have kids. It will destroy you.
The Edinburgh Fringe podcasts turned out to be a big success and RHLSTP has had over a million downloads in the last 30 days, so thanks for downloading (and listening, if you did). Plus I didn't spend £10,000 on accommodation so it's win/win. If you haven't yet listened to this month's podcasts the standard is very high and the guests really brilliant. And the podcasts don't stop. Guests coming up in September include Ben and Larry from Ghosts, Lucy Worsley, Caitlin Moran, Nigel Planer, Sarah Millican, Peter Baynham and more. And then in October the tour gigs will start going out, with book clubs from David Mitchell, Danny Robins, Lou Sanders and more! It's a golden age to be alive. If you can't come and see the tour (and even if you can) spread the word to any friends that you think might like this show. The more downloads we get the more shows we can make and for every million downloads I can play half an hour of ping pong with my kids at Center Parcs.
