I woke up at 7 am, though through no fault of anyone else, had my breakfast and decided to head straight for Manchester. Maybe if I could get there by lunchtime then I could make something of the rest of my day and I wasn't going to get anything done or any more sleep in the hotel.
I left the wine in the room, but asked about it as I checked out. The men on reception told me that it was a complimentary bottle and suggested I was an idiot for not having taken it. But then perhaps there should have been a note explaining that and possibly a corkscrew. I didn't care though. I was glad I hadn't had a drink. I felt vaguely refreshed by sleep as a result.
I was out of Scotland before 9am and in Manchester by midday, which just seemed extraordinary. It had been another magic carpet of a drive, which had whizzed by with very little incident. It seemed to pass by in a dream again. I hope I am not actually sleeping through these drives, but if I am things are going OK so far.
I was pretty tired by the time of the gig though and snoozed on a beanbag in the dressing room. I was back at the Frog and Bucket which is a club that I have a lot of affection for. The staff are friendly and efficient and good fun and the audiences are always up for interesting comedy. Despite my weariness the night did not disappoint and I think it was possibly my favourite ever performance yet. I messed around a bit more than usual and even managed to get a big laugh with a Jade Goody observation, which will not read well out of context. It is of course terribly sad and tragic and unfair that she has died, yet the hysterical and hypocritical reaction of the press which once or twice in the past have pretty much called for her piggy head to be stuck up on a spike, is something to behold.
On one hand it is ludicrous to compare her to Princess Diana and yet on the other there is probably no more apt parallel. They were both vilified by the media that they openly courted and both might end up practically canonised in death.
It's still sad that she's died though and more sad that a tribute magazine was brought out before she'd actually died. I am not sure that anyone should have to read their own tribute or to have the dates of their birth and death published before they have actually departed.
By the time it was all over I was way too exhausted to get drunk with my friends at the Frog as I usually do and headed back to my hotel - the rather swanky Crowne Plaza, which I feel might throw people out on to the streets if they even have a bogey in their nostril. Just to be sure that they don't end up the shower curtain. Not that it had shower curtains, but a rather swish shower cabinet.
And the Glasgow collection was not such a disaster. I had actually been handed about £70 by people on the night and then a further £230 has been pledged on line (including a very generous £125 from Iain - showing that not all I A I N Ians are scum - I hope that wasn't a mistake to give that much, but it will make a huge different whether deliberate or accidental). Thanks Glasgow, you rock! A man from Magners has even offered to send me a crate of cider - which in some ways is worse than getting nothing - but it's the thought that counts.
