Edinburgh Festival.

Busy week I've had there.

Shows been to:
Andrew McLelland's Mix Tape
Mark Watson: Can I Briefly Talk To You About The Point Of Life?
Ali McGregor's Late-nite Variety-nite Night
Lucy Porter's Love In
BBC Stand Up Show: Live!
Andrew Maxwell: Waxin'
Rhod Gilbert: Who's Eaten Gilbert's Grape?
Geraldine Quinn: SEXDEATHBOWIE
Nine Inch Nails & Foo Fighters
Get Keith Carter
Jon Richardson: Spatula Pad
Old Rope
Jo Caulfield Goes To Hell
Frankie Boyle: Morons, I Can Heal You
We Need Answers: The Inaugural Festival Challenge Cup

Bloody exhausted. But I'd do it all again.

H

Hello.

It's been a while since I've made a journal on here.

I'm currently at work with my mother. The reason as to why I'm here is a long story, best saved for another time. Unfortunately, she's a teacher. And I dislike children immensely. On the bright side of things, however, we're leaving again in a couple of hours. (Hurray!)

I'm going to ramble on for a bit, do be warned. I need something to amuse myself with.

Gosh I'm tired. I didn't get to sleep until about half past four this morning. For once it wasn't of my own choosing, though.
I got rudely awoken by the sound of drilling, at about seven, too. Then had to be up at half past.

Hm. News. What news do I have?

Ah yes. On Friday I went to Leeds for my friend Kim's first shot at arranging a comedy show. She did brilliantly well, it was excellent.
The line-up was especially good: Mark Watson, Robin Ince, Rob Rouse and Matt Kirshen.
So yes.
That was fun.

On Thursday I'm off to Nottingham to see Rhod Gilbert and several other people, at the Lakeside Arts Centre, they're doing a 'best of the Leicester Comedy Festival' type thing. I still need him to get back to me about tickets, but MySpace was being awkward as ever this morning before I set off, so I couldn't check if he'd replied or not.

This computer won't let me go on anything, really, only a few websites. Why on Earth they've banned Gmail, I'm not sure.

In ELEVEN DAYS(!!!!) it's the super-secret exciting event that I daren't tell anyone about. But just know I'm hyped. Very very hyped. More than very very. But 'very' x3 would just be excessive.

Then, ummm, soon (I've lost count of the days, now, but, soon), I'm going to see Mark Watson doing his Edinburgh preview show, perhaps more than once. (Yes, I have too much time on my hands.)
But he's great. So my thoughts here are valid.

On July 4th it's Daniel Kitson in Sheffield, which Kim is also going to, so that should be awesome in many respects.

July 12th - Jazz in The Gardens. My dad's band are doing an open-air thing at the Botanical Gardens in Sheffield. He said it was great last year, but I didn't go. I was busy watching Anthony Keidis leap around a stage at the arena. He was doing a show with the Red Hot Chili Peppers at the time, not just.. leaping around on his own. That would just have been strange.

July 14th - Russell Brand in Hull. No-one really seems to like him. Which is a terrible shame. But, sod them all. I think he's lovely.

July 30th - I go to Russia. Well. Technically I go to France. But let's not get technical. I end up in Russia eventually. But only after visiting France, Germany and Poland.

August 15th - I return. Sigh.

August 17th - EEEEEEEEEE!!!...dinburgh. Yes. Edinburgh. Festival. The thing my year revolves around. Yay. Yayay. This deserves a smiley face. So here's a smiley face. : )

Then in Autumn, I've got Ross Noble, Ardal O'Hanlon, Sean Hughes, The Decemberists, Jimmy Carr, Bill Bailey, Frank Skinner, Tim Minchin, and... many many more.

Jesus. I'm actually becoming really quite busy. I never thought me and the word busy would ever encounter each other.

By the way. When I said I was going to ramble on. I really meant it. If rambling was a sport, I'd have won a medal by now. But then again, if rambling WAS a sport, it certainly wouldn't help with the obesity problem in the UK. Fat people saying "But I'm keeping active!", then proceeding to go off at a tangent. And that would be it. Not that I am obese, far from it, I was just.. pondering. I have trouble with short and snappy things. I'm useless at them. Tim even said "You never write an uncomplicated message, do you dear?". He was correct. More than correct. Uncomplicated is not the word to describe my messages. Which is odd. As most things I do have to be done perfectly. And in a certain way. But.. oh well.

Maybe I should disappear now. Perhaps. I'm pretty sure that most of you have lost the will to live by now. Or stopped reading way back up there. Or saw the sheer size of this journal and thought 'No thank YOU'.

Sod it. I'm off.

H

I put my hand in a cactus at IKEA earlier, by accident.
I am an idiot.
Sleep now, yes.
Also. Paws and I, well, we're not paedophiles.
We just happen to have a lot of conversations about beards and cameras and zoos.
*nod*
Just thought I'd say. ^_^

Tuesday
Afternoon:
After missing three trains and buses, I finally get to Lincoln. Meet Kirsty in the station.
Go back to her house.

Evening:
Go out to Nando's for something to eat, then realise we've left too much spare time. To resolve this, we go to Walkabout for chocolate brownies.
Go to Engine Shed to see Russell Howard. He is brilliant. Ice-cream is consumed.

Night:
Go back to Kirsty's, send e-mails, go to bed.

Wednesday
Morning:
Alarm doesn't go off. End up running around frantically trying to get ready. Walk with Kirsty into city centre. She goes for interview, I meet up with Tom for coffee. He's still as annoying as ever.

Afternoon:
Begin three hour train journey to Birmingham to see Mr. Minchin.

Evening:
Arrive Birmingham. Find out station is situated in a Chinese area of Birmingham with many supermarkets. Go and search for Pocky. Don't find any. Go and investigate whereabouts of Glee Club. Find it. Get taxi back to hotel. Put on MAS shirts. Leave hotel for Glee Club. See Tim in his lovely, wonderful show.

Night:
Get kicked out of Glee Club straight after show, along with Tim. Kirsty momentarily loses wallet. Go for drink with Tim, give him silly hat. Tim also has his MAS shirt on. Pictures are taken of the three shirts finally together. Pete and John nag him that it's time to go. Kirsty and I go back to hotel.

Thursday
Morning:
Wake up. Discover possibility that I can go to see Tim's final show in Swindon, along with Kirsty on Saturday. Decide upon this possibility, and start talking train prices and ticket possibilities. Go for breakfast in hotel. Check out of hotel, and go to station. Find another Chinese supermarket and go searching for Pocky again. Find some cheap rip off. Buy it. It's not very nice. Make way to station.

Afternoon:
Find internet cafe to get the number for Swindon Arts Centre. Phone up. The show is sold out. Oh no! Whatever shall we do now?! (Haha.). E-mail Tim and ask if he can get me in. Kirsty and I say goodbye, then get trains. Arrive Sheffield, thinking I'm stuck there for six hours, as I've got no money, and my mum can't pick me up until 8. Phone Dad. He's at a friend's house. He tells me to get a bus to there with the remaining money I have. Arrive Nicky's house.

Evening:
Still at Nicky's house with Dad and Carrie. Get persuaded to stay at my dad Carrie's house. Eat pizza and other such things. Me, Carrie, and my dad leave and go to their house.

Night:
Watch Black Books and a Ramones DVD with Dad and Carrie. Go to bed.

Friday
Morning:
Wake up to e-mail from Tim to say that there's a ticket for me waiting at Swindon Arts Centre box office. Have breakfast and shower. Dad takes me to station and gives me some money to get home.

Afternoon:
Arrive home. Book train tickets to Salisbury for tomorrow.

Evening:
Go to see the Dizzy Club (my dad's jazz band). See many, many people I've not seen in years.

Night:
Gig finishes. Say goodbye to everyone. Go home to bed.

Saturday
Morning:
Up at half seven for train at quarter past eight. Frantically rush around ramming things in bag. Only just make train. Arrive Nottingham and get tickets and sandwich and trashy magazine for lovely six hour journey ahead. Derby and Basingstoke stations are a blur. The world becomes a confusion of fast blurry train tracks and railway stations.

Afternoon:
Arrive Salisbury at twenty past three. Met by (a not well) Kirsty and her dad. Go and buy Tim another daft hat. We decide upon a stereotypical Australian number, that has corks dangling from it, with a picture of a kangaroo on the front. Pick up Kirsty's friend Sarah and drive to Swindon for the show.

Evening:
Kirsty's dad takes us all out for a meal. Go to Arts Centre for the show. Pick up my ticket from box office. We go find our seats, Tim comes on and does his show. It was one of the best I've ever seen him do, and the audience were really good. See Tim in bar afterwards and give him the corky hat. He said that we're forbidden from buying tickets or canvas bags ever again, because we should have them for free. Nice pictures are taken and goodbyes are said. Last time we'll see him until August.

Night:
Get back to Kirsty's house. Send e-mails. Go to bed.

Sunday
Wake up. Kirsty is really not well at all. Say bye to her. Go to station. Get train to Bristol.

Afternoon:
A fleeting stop at Birmingham, for train to Nottingham. Buy more trashy magazines for some brain-numbing entertainment on train. Get annoyed by people on train. Get headache. Get all tense and annoyed. Just want to get off train.

Evening:
Finally arrive Nottingham feeling exhausted. Mum meets me from train with Anne. Go for something to eat. Get increasingly tired. Finally get home.

Night:
BED.

Monday
LAZY DAY ^_^

Today
...May or may not turn into another lazy day.

It's not often I write journals on this thing.
If you're wanting regular 'blogging' as opposed to half-arsed mutterings every three months or more, then I'd advise you go here.
So it's Sunday morning, and I have nothing better to do than sit here in my pyjamas. Everyone seems like they have something to do. My mother's clearing out the under the stairs cupboard, the old man next door is painting his shed green, and here I am just, well, bored, for want of a better word. I don't want to be painting a shed or cleaning a cupboard, don't get me wrong, but for once I'd just like something to do. None of my friends really live near enough to just pop round and visit, and the only person I really want to pop round and visit at the minute lives sixty miles and a four hour train journey away. Sometimes it just hits me how lonely it gets around here.
It's my little brother's birthday today, he's eight. I hope the card I sent arrived on time.
Happy Chinese New Year. It's the year of the pig.