The drive over the Pennines was a lot more straight forward than I had feared. There was a bit of fog towards the end, but I was at the Lowry Theatre by lunchtime.
Maybe I was just unlucky, or maybe people are as miserable in Manchester as they are purported to be (I have always found the opposite), but a cloud of apathy seemed to be hanging over Salford today. Perhaps that fog was the magic horror film kind that can turn people into zombies or in this case make them slightly obstructive and unhelpful.
Touring totally on my own is a bit unusual - most comics and bands have a tour manager and a support act. I don't think many shows at the Lowry have someone just roll up by themselves. A photographer was at the theatre to take a photo for a new weekly column I am doing for the Metro (it will be all editions nationwide and should be online too - the first one will be in on Tuesday and includes some exciting news). He had expected me to have a PR person with me, who could hold his flash, but he had to cope alone. The woman at the front of house was surprised to see me lugging around all my programmes and putting them out on seats myself. I guess most performers just sit in their dressing rooms and wait for the show. She was a lovely woman and actually embarrassed to tell me that as I hadn't cleared my SCOPE collection in advance the ushers wouldn't be able to help me by holding buckets at the end. I should have made sure that this information had got to the theatre in advance and the woman was apologetic, but it seemed a little bit mean. But as lovely as it is to be playing a bigger venue in this lovely theatre, the higher up the tree the more you see this is a business and people are just doing their job. At most theatres the crew come out to the car and help me get my stuff in, but no one was forthcoming today. I didn't mind too much as I need the exercise and there was time for me to go back and forth, but it felt a bit weird. Especially as some of them were smoking outside and watching me go back and forth. One of them was concerned that I might hurt myself because I was loading things up in the docking bay and then having to awkwardly climb up on a platform and hoist myself up. But he didn't seem to be interested in operating the little lift for me. He seemed a very pleasant man and I don't think I had done anything to offend him and like I say I was happy to get on with it, but it seemed a little odd. But like I say there was just an air of unhelpfulness over Salford today (The crew were enormously helpful to us last year).
I don't like to make a fuss, but was left very much to look after myself. I needed a glass of water for the stage and usually there are some bottles in the dressing room, but tonight I was forced to go out to the bar and climb over the counter and pour myself one. Like I say, I needed the exercise.
And the apathy pervaded the whole of Salford it seemed. I popped out to try and get a sandwich, forgetting it was Sunday, so all of the cafes were shut. I thought that maybe I could get a takeaway pizza at Pizza Express, but I waited for three or four minutes at the door and no one was coming to talk to me, so I just made do with a few carrots I had brought with me and hoped I could last long enough to get some room service at the hotel.
The show was good and I forgot my hunger, but didn't forget any important sections. I put the buckets on the table as I was signing and luckily people were generous so we still made some money for SCOPE. I then loaded up my car - the crew now very busy preparing for tomorrow's show - and drove off into the foggy night, having been politely told there was no way I could leave my car there til the morning. I am not a diva who expects a dressing room full of flowers and a bowl of blue M&Ms and I appreciate that a theatre is a business and the people there are doing a job (and a tough one at that), and I am very happy to pitch in and get on with it, but it's interesting how the welcome that I receive at a venue can affect my mood and the show.
I really like this theatre and hope I will come back, but little things like this can affect how you view them. I am not a big name and maybe it doesn't matter too much, but it's amazing what difference a few helpful gestures and maybe a couple of bottles of water might make. But however big I might get, I will always do my utmost to play gigs at places like the West End Theatre in Aldershot and the Chorley Little Theatre (where they understand the power and value of a free Chorley cake), because they care about the acts (or do a good impression of doing so).
Then again, all this might be me getting old and starting to think that the world is changing and people aren't as nice as they used to be and everything is too profit orientated. Maybe I just gave off a vibe that I was happy getting on with stuff on my own - it's a lonely life on the road and I can get used to fending for myself.
Back at the hotel I got a glass of wine in the bar and asked the barman if there was any food - I could only get room service and only get that in my room. Because it's a rule that you can't get room service delivered to the bar. Even though there's no real good reason for that. But sometimes bureaucracy results in losing sight of service. I had a pack of crisps to tide me over and then took my wine upstairs so I could get a sandwich. I rang down to room service, but the phone rang for about 2 minutes and no one answered, so I decided it might help my diet if I didn't have a late night snack. And it was the perfect end to my day of people being not that bothered. Hopefully the fog will lift over Salford. Or maybe the BBC being there has infected everyone with a London media rudeness and complacency.
But to cheer me up I got an email from someone who is hoping to be in the GB archery team for the Olympics who is using the techniques pioneered in Me1 vs Me2 snooker to help him train. His Me1 is beating his Me2 by 642 to 592, which shows you the dedication required to be an Olympic athlete. Though I am not sure I should be happy that I am encouraging mental illness in a man with access to a high powered bow and arrow.
But this ridiculous endeavour is being used in Olympic training. I told you this was a serious sporting podcast. I will be reading out his email in Frame 10 (frame 9 is already recorded and will be up in all its drunken glory on Tuesday).
