There was a Rugby team in the services, Sheffield tigers or something. I think they're a league side and I cannot be arsed or care enough to search for them on google to verify this. As I was leaving, the biggest fucker I've ever met was coming the other way, so I held the door open for him, like you do and he said, "thanks" to which I replied, "no worries, you look like you could have used the help!" I was obviously joking and being friendly but he looked at me like I was on fire. I walked away quite briskly as avoid getting pummeled by this fucking beast of a man!
Most of the afternoon was spent, well, doing this (blog) and hanging around. I moseyed into town bought professor some stuff for his birthday. They are as follows:
1 x Bottle of Jim Beam (always come in handy... Never can have too much alcohol)
1 x bag of dates, because I heard him say he's not had one in while.
2 x small nuts, because I am of the opinion he doesn't have a pair.
Lovely Jim Beam
Some dates, yesterday
Bollocks!
Then it was meeting time, lots of points were made and we rehearsed Sean's knife throwing and whip act. The rehearsal went pretty smooth, when it happened in the show not so much!
I've made a rod for my own back with a double bass drum pattern that's not hard to play but hard to play at that length. I practiced it in the day and felt confident I'd nail it in the show. NOT! Legs tired by the 16th bar and I found myself fumbling all over it and getting really upset that I couldn't do it. I could of course simplify it but that would be admitting defeat and I am far from doing that yet.
Pull down was really quick and we were outta there by about 11:15. I drove one of the vans to the travelodge in Chessington via Asia and Helmuts house and then Zoe's house. After many a wrong turn we didn't get in until gone 4:00. I had the pleasure of having to get up again 3.5 hours later to put a ticket on the van. Fucking London... Travelodges all over the country have free parking. Not here. The ones that have, charge you through the fucking nose. Never liked this city and as time goes on, the more congested and rip off it becomes the more it fuels my distain. I'd happily fuck it off, but the show comes here and I have no choice other than to leave the tour.
"Sorry haze, I'm not coming on tour because I fucking hate London!" A shittest of reasons I'm sure most would agree, so I swallow it for the good of the show. Yeah, I'm good like that.
During the journey, Clayton spoke briefly about how he'd recently (June this year) lost his wife and home through her long battle with alcoholism. After she drank away the mortgage and her life, he now is living with his cousin. You could tell this was something very very difficult for the guy and the fact he just wanted to share that with me at such an auspicious occasion as driving the cast to London overnight is something he only knows the reason to. I had heard he'd recently gone through some tragedy and god I felt for the guy (What was that bit I said earlier about never having too much alcohol?!)
Day off tomorrow and another piss up in the name of professor's ACTUAL birthday. Not that fake one we had the other day.
Oh my head and liver hurt already!
No comments:
Post a Comment