I went food shopping today. That’s it. You can all go home. Thanks for coming. Blog over. Smashed it.
Even shopping took me long enough. I was trying to sleep off my cold. But I had my mother’s ghost telling me “Feed a cold to starve a fever.” And no food in the house. Plus my blog from the other day where I said I was going to go shopping. So I schlepped to Tesco and filled the fridge with stuff. Veg onions milk butter meats bread cereal cheese pasta rice pies etc etc. This makes a change. Recently it’s literally just been a can of sardines in the fridge, staring at me, despite no bread. Now I’ve got bread. Toast is possible. Sardines on toast. And onions. Even tomato. And peppers. Which is a perfectly viable – even luxurious – meal. Even without the sardines. Bruschetta!
I ate lots today, starting with a can of Heinz ravioli, which you can judge me about but 0.79p and familiar. Plus everything tastes like nothing right now. It’s a probably a good time to eat old leather shoes, as even my shoes would be mildly piquant and no more, to my taste buds. I hear my own words back in my ears, despite the ringing. My throat is full of death. I’m leaking like a stuck faucet. I’m finding out lots about snots. I’m sick. Sick as the proverbial dog. Which certainly wasn’t bouncing around seeking approval in which ever proverb it came from. It was fucked. I suspect it was dead.
How the hell will I do 2 shows tomorrow? No doubt I’ll find out. Pharmacopoeia. The wonders of science and adrenaline. I timed it perfectly this evening. Ten minutes before I went on stage *ping*. CAFFEINE PLUS OBSCURE PERKY DECONGESTANTS YAY SCROOGE HUMBUG. But now it’s worn off. Completely.
I’m on a packed tube and I’m hosepiping snot into my moustache and reeking of olbas to the extent that everyone is standing in the doorway rather than going near the only 2 empty seats in the carriage – my neighbors.
I’m not helping myself by having had a couple of pints this evening. But if you go into the deep ocean you have to decompress. And it’s important I sleep well tonight. Plus when have you ever known me to be anything other than retrograde to whatever is good for me?
Lunch matinee, then just … the wrong amount of time to get out of costume and experience the world as Al before pre show kicks in again. I prefer it when I only have a 45 minute turnaround. Then I stay warm, which is relevant vocally and physically. This matinee is annoyingly early compared to the Saturday ones. But because it’s extra we get compensated. Worth it when it comes to the boiler fund. I’ve got enough for a plumber that isn’t taking the piss. I’ve put it aside. Now it’s about finding someone who’s free on Friday who isn’t charging emergency rates (fat chance). Looks like Christmas will be cold. I’ll make some more calls tomorrow in the hopes…