Where am I?

I flew home from Southampton today. I spent the weekend there working at Jongleurs Comedy club and am knackered. On Saturday morning I got up early and got the train to Central London to take part in the Danny Wallace radio show, where I was chatting about my forth coming one woman comedy show at Soho Theatre next week.

As if getting up early and getting through busy London wasn’t enough, I managed to have my period – I wasn’t sure I was expecting it, but after all these years you would think I could guess the signs? Me? No…I will always find out in a pub toilet why I feel sticky! Yes…I know horrid…but what is wrong with me, I mean it’s EVERY month! What’s to know?

Anyway I ran into one of those wee tiny booth type shops in Leicester Square. You know the kind of shops; it’s basically a news-stand that looks like Aladdin’s Cave. The whole shop is the size of a phone box and the wee man is stuck behind a cash register.

Well of course the sanitary towels were so high up near the ceiling and neither of us could reach them. The wee man had to climb out of his space, grab his stool and teeter up high, knock the towels down. That was when he fell off the stool and loads of shit came down with him.

The stock came flying off shelves, newspapers clattered around us, I got hit with a jar of coffee and a pair of tights (how much stuff did that place have? It was like an emergency war bunker).

He glared at me for needing the out- of -reach towels. I didn’t care; I didn’t want to bleed all over Danny Wallace’s studio…

The show went well. I had fun and Danny Wallace is awesome and lovely. I left there at midday and caught the tube back to Waterloo and went straight back onto a train headed for Southampton. I was gigging again on Saturday night.

On arrival at the Southampton hotel, I loaded up on painkillers, pads and went straight back to bed and slept till 6pm – enough time to shower and head off to the gig and do it all over again. I think I sleep too much when I live in hotels. I do nothing but sleep when I am not onstage.

Sunday- I was up and onto another train to the airport (where I did my regular Sunday Slot on Tommy Sheridan’s radio show by phone) and then back onto another plane and back in Glasgow. I am constantly on planes.

Ashley had cleaned the house for me coming home which is nice. I think her and her dad have Mexican stand-offs over the dishwashing and cleaning. Both of them silently ignoring the mess until one of them breaks, admits defeat and gets the place cleaned up for the arrival of the ‘Witch Mother’ (that’s me).

Facing my wrath is a foreboding experience that should never be under-estimated. My silence is truly deafening.

Ashley will be glad this coming week, husband and I are off to London for about two weeks. I am doing my show at Soho theatre then some gigs around London and one night in Munich as well…another plane journey no doubt, lets hope Terminal 5 is back on its feet for that gig!

I am out of sorts again; I feel tired and have been having crashing nightmares, which always happens when I am away from home (which is every fucking week).
I do so hope they stop soon. Am a bit worried about being in New Zealand on my own for four weeks, it will be worse there, I just know it now. I wish Ashley could come with me again. She wakes me up when I scream in the night and I can’t get out of the dream. She knows the signs.

The nightmares scare me, they are happening at home more as well now.
I cry when I wake up and go in the toilet to weep so I don’t upset my family. Things happen in those dreams that I could never write about or explain. So I keep them inside and try not to think about them.

Never mind, I am strong and such a survivor, everyone says that so it must be true. The bad man in my dreams can try but he will never get me, not when I am awake anyway. I am going to stay awake forever!