Things are happening in my life that keep making me look back, its not good news. Recently when I was in London it happened. I immediately recalled the first time I went to London to stay with my pal Finlay.
It was 1994; I was hardly doing any comedy and was running my pub at the time. Just the sheer excitement of being away from the pub, husband and my child made me giddy with happiness.
Soho looked like the most amazing place in the world; the big bright lights of Piccadilly dazzled me like the oik I was back then.
It was fantastic to be free from domesticity and just be me and just be with my pals. I recall looking in Time Out magazine and wondering how I could possibly contain my bursting exhilaration at the thought MY NAME one day might be in those listings as a comic at a club, it just made me foam at the mouth.
Years later when I wrote articles and was featured in Time Out, I giggled and had a wee heart warming feeling, recalling the Janey who thought that was THE DIZZY heights of fame, and it was a good feeling.
But somehow I now feel a bit flat, it might be because I am getting older and am becoming tired whilst travelling, I am not sure what this feeling is, but I miss the excitement of being so amazed at doing stand up.
Does that make sense?
You need to know I LOVE doing comedy; I feel I am finally me onstage. It is the best feeling in the world and I honestly am blessed that I get paid for doing something I think is easy and wonderful; I know I shouldn’t say that. I should say how comedy is so technical, a skill that takes years to hone and blah blah about the art- but I love comedy and I it doesn’t feel like hard work to me.
Please don’t take from this that I am poo-poohing my art, or being flippant about all the years its taken me to get to a decent level, but I just get worried someone is going to walk up and say “you are just talking, why is that a job?” and I am scuppered! I have been told be many people in my life growing up to ‘shut up’ and now I get paid for talking, that makes me giggle inside, yet there is this awful foreboding feeling inside me.
Do I finally have depression and my brain can’t compute what that actually means? Can that happen?
I have never had depression before and always rail against it as I have been surrounded by depressed people my whole life and they really annoy me (sorry if that’s sounds unsympathetic, but if you live with someone with depression it basically means when they are sad and don’t want to go out- you are NOT going to the beach either and You don’t have depression) There is nothing for people who DON’T have depression but live with people who have depression –they get therapy- you get moaned at.
So I don’t know why I am feeling strange and odd lately. Maybe I am just going through an odd phase, yet the only thing that makes me happy is going onstage.
Ashley is all grown up and writing for a living and doesn’t need me so much, husband is happy and fine and I might be suffering from some empty nest thing. As everyone knows how much I love being with my daughter and I talk about her all the time. I know I do…but you have no idea how proud I am that she is just lovely and funny and such good company to be around.
I think I might be having a mid life crisis, I may end up like those women who get their hair cut like Suzie Quatro and start wearing fringey leather jackets and start visiting the Hard Rock Café’s all over the world collecting beer mats, tee shirts and getting photos taken with Jimmy Hendrix’s guitar. Can that happen to women overnight?
Why is looking back to me being all glowy about comedy and visiting new cities not making me happy?
Or maybe I shouldn’t write a blog in a damp Manchester hotel room with a really bad period pain and a colonoscopy to look forward to? It might be that then eh?
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Mr Pigeon go away
I haven’t had a decent lie in since London. Honestly you would think I had a proper job or something, having to get up early and be places is the very reason I became a comedian. I do nowt!
This morning I had to get up and go see the specialist about my ‘bowel’ issue suffice to say I am getting a colonoscopy quite soon which I am sure is sexual to a few hard nosed politicians yet evil to me.
I have NEVER found excitement in shoving things up my back bottom, seriously -its exit only- and those folk who shove hamsters and lava lamps up theirs need executed or put in a special ward. Ok that might have sounded extreme, but I am having a strange day as a pigeon attacked me as I slept.
Here is the story; my bed is beneath my window, so my pillows are basically where your knees would be if you were hanging out of my top floor windows. I like it that way but sometimes I push the windows open full and birds come up under the eaves, spot the gaping window and do a wee peep in. They see me in bed two feet away from them then don’t understand they need to be quiet and let out a big loud squawk or make a pigeon warbly noise. We stare at each other as my eyes open, big fat bird sitting on the inside of my window ledge, me lying on the pillow hoping it doesn’t come any nearer. I throw up an arm it shits on my pillow and flies out into the back court. That what usually happens, but today was funny.
I slept after the hospital appointment and I woke up at 11am to see two pigeons pecking at my jewellery box on my window ledge. They clearly fancied a wee wander in and tapped across the shelve ten inches above my skull and then sat there warbling to each other.
The noise woke me up, I gently lifted my head, the bigger bird panicked and just fell out of the window…screeching…like it forgot how to fly, but the sassy smaller bird pecked my velvet jewellery box and eyed me side on. It was challenging me! I am sure it was a ‘she’ as ‘she’ gaily tip- tapped across my window shelf, shit on it and deftly flew into the grey Glasgow sky.
This is what I miss about Glasgow, the sheer audacity of its pigeons.
It is good to be home though despite the colonoscopy and the pigeons.
This morning I had to get up and go see the specialist about my ‘bowel’ issue suffice to say I am getting a colonoscopy quite soon which I am sure is sexual to a few hard nosed politicians yet evil to me.
I have NEVER found excitement in shoving things up my back bottom, seriously -its exit only- and those folk who shove hamsters and lava lamps up theirs need executed or put in a special ward. Ok that might have sounded extreme, but I am having a strange day as a pigeon attacked me as I slept.
Here is the story; my bed is beneath my window, so my pillows are basically where your knees would be if you were hanging out of my top floor windows. I like it that way but sometimes I push the windows open full and birds come up under the eaves, spot the gaping window and do a wee peep in. They see me in bed two feet away from them then don’t understand they need to be quiet and let out a big loud squawk or make a pigeon warbly noise. We stare at each other as my eyes open, big fat bird sitting on the inside of my window ledge, me lying on the pillow hoping it doesn’t come any nearer. I throw up an arm it shits on my pillow and flies out into the back court. That what usually happens, but today was funny.
I slept after the hospital appointment and I woke up at 11am to see two pigeons pecking at my jewellery box on my window ledge. They clearly fancied a wee wander in and tapped across the shelve ten inches above my skull and then sat there warbling to each other.
The noise woke me up, I gently lifted my head, the bigger bird panicked and just fell out of the window…screeching…like it forgot how to fly, but the sassy smaller bird pecked my velvet jewellery box and eyed me side on. It was challenging me! I am sure it was a ‘she’ as ‘she’ gaily tip- tapped across my window shelf, shit on it and deftly flew into the grey Glasgow sky.
This is what I miss about Glasgow, the sheer audacity of its pigeons.
It is good to be home though despite the colonoscopy and the pigeons.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Comedy can be hell
Late blog – I know. Sorry, I was either really busy or asleep in London.
The time just flew past and I didn’t quite catch up with myself.
And I have been partying a wee bit, I do that in London – I rarely go out in Glasgow and save all the time up and end up staying out at The Groucho Club till 2am, then sleeping in like a fat old dog.
My trip here has been really interesting, firstly on arrival in London I decided to call up Gordon Smith who is the boss of the Scottish Football thingy and I applied for the job as Scotland football manager. The fact I called it ‘thingy’ should indicate I am not really suited to the job. But the press were touting Sean Connery as the next manager and because I actually live in Scotland, I thought I should be more in the running so to speak. I can order men about, I can actually play football and I am great at strategy, what’s not to like?
“Do you have a valid coaching license?” Gordon Smith asked.
“No, but I do know Hologram Tam and he is the worlds best forger and he can get me one” I laughed.
Well, they never called back, so I guess the job is not for me.
London is wonderful at this time of year as the Christmas lights are up in Oxford Street and I LOVE the lights, I am such a sentimental twat at times, but I just love the wintry feeling and the twinkling lights.
Hyde Park is just a carpet of crisp golden leaves and the sky at teatime over London is scudded with crimson smudges that reflect onto the oily surface of the Thames, it’s just amazing!
It’s as if someone had taken a whorey pink lipstick to the sky and had dragged it over the dappled clouds.
The pale blushing sky creates an inspiring backdrop to the Houses of Parliament; you have to see it to know what I mean. I love London.
I don’t love drug fucked alcoholic men with skinny hard faced blonde women who come to comedy clubs to scream at comedians. I hate those bastards more than anything and yet Camden seemed to draw them in on Friday and Saturday night.
It can be exhausting verbally fighting with coke fuelled men in front of 200 people for money, but I am an MC and that’s my job. I won, they were thrown out and the comedy went good. Ok, heres some tips for anyone who fancies coming to enjoy a comedy gig.
1. Don’t snort Peru up your nose; it doesn’t make you amiable in a crowd of quiet people listening to one person.
2. Don’t patently ignore someone with a microphone speaking to you and try not to carry on foaming at the sides of your mouth as you scream at other comedy goers asking you to shut up.
3. When 200 people shout ‘LEAVE! LEAVE!’ accept that they don’t like you and just fucking leave. The people have spoken my friend.
4. Don’t abuse someone for being Scottish then try to cover that abuse up by declaring you are half-Scottish, that’s just mental and invites some of the best retorts from a Scottish MC.
5. Never go anywhere where you want to talk more than the people everyone else has paid to listen to. It really is that simple, stay at home and shout at yourself, is all I am saying.
Other than that life is good. Meetings went well and I now have some serious writing to do.
I got to hang out with Monica my best mate in the world and it was so good to see her, we get to talk really fast Glaswegian and not worry about pronunciation or slowing down for other people. Though she does speak amazing Italian, French, Spanish and possibly seven other languages in a fabulously funny Scottish accent, I hear her talk to some of the European chefs she represents and piss myself laughing – she is amazing.
Nothing strange, funny or weird happened for me to write home about, am sorry- I feel as though I am letting you all down if I haven’t punched a Politician or fell down a flight fo stairs in front of a Hollywood superstar, but sometimes my life is dull and is all about looking at the awesome skies over London. Am home tomorrow…speak soon.
The time just flew past and I didn’t quite catch up with myself.
And I have been partying a wee bit, I do that in London – I rarely go out in Glasgow and save all the time up and end up staying out at The Groucho Club till 2am, then sleeping in like a fat old dog.
My trip here has been really interesting, firstly on arrival in London I decided to call up Gordon Smith who is the boss of the Scottish Football thingy and I applied for the job as Scotland football manager. The fact I called it ‘thingy’ should indicate I am not really suited to the job. But the press were touting Sean Connery as the next manager and because I actually live in Scotland, I thought I should be more in the running so to speak. I can order men about, I can actually play football and I am great at strategy, what’s not to like?
“Do you have a valid coaching license?” Gordon Smith asked.
“No, but I do know Hologram Tam and he is the worlds best forger and he can get me one” I laughed.
Well, they never called back, so I guess the job is not for me.
London is wonderful at this time of year as the Christmas lights are up in Oxford Street and I LOVE the lights, I am such a sentimental twat at times, but I just love the wintry feeling and the twinkling lights.
Hyde Park is just a carpet of crisp golden leaves and the sky at teatime over London is scudded with crimson smudges that reflect onto the oily surface of the Thames, it’s just amazing!
It’s as if someone had taken a whorey pink lipstick to the sky and had dragged it over the dappled clouds.
The pale blushing sky creates an inspiring backdrop to the Houses of Parliament; you have to see it to know what I mean. I love London.
I don’t love drug fucked alcoholic men with skinny hard faced blonde women who come to comedy clubs to scream at comedians. I hate those bastards more than anything and yet Camden seemed to draw them in on Friday and Saturday night.
It can be exhausting verbally fighting with coke fuelled men in front of 200 people for money, but I am an MC and that’s my job. I won, they were thrown out and the comedy went good. Ok, heres some tips for anyone who fancies coming to enjoy a comedy gig.
1. Don’t snort Peru up your nose; it doesn’t make you amiable in a crowd of quiet people listening to one person.
2. Don’t patently ignore someone with a microphone speaking to you and try not to carry on foaming at the sides of your mouth as you scream at other comedy goers asking you to shut up.
3. When 200 people shout ‘LEAVE! LEAVE!’ accept that they don’t like you and just fucking leave. The people have spoken my friend.
4. Don’t abuse someone for being Scottish then try to cover that abuse up by declaring you are half-Scottish, that’s just mental and invites some of the best retorts from a Scottish MC.
5. Never go anywhere where you want to talk more than the people everyone else has paid to listen to. It really is that simple, stay at home and shout at yourself, is all I am saying.
Other than that life is good. Meetings went well and I now have some serious writing to do.
I got to hang out with Monica my best mate in the world and it was so good to see her, we get to talk really fast Glaswegian and not worry about pronunciation or slowing down for other people. Though she does speak amazing Italian, French, Spanish and possibly seven other languages in a fabulously funny Scottish accent, I hear her talk to some of the European chefs she represents and piss myself laughing – she is amazing.
Nothing strange, funny or weird happened for me to write home about, am sorry- I feel as though I am letting you all down if I haven’t punched a Politician or fell down a flight fo stairs in front of a Hollywood superstar, but sometimes my life is dull and is all about looking at the awesome skies over London. Am home tomorrow…speak soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
