Despite headwinds and unexpected tiredness from yesterday’s swim, I got round the volcano, clockwise in thirty minutes, thanks to my shoelaces staying done up, not too many tourists blocking the path and 99 Red Balloons shuffling onto the iPod just as I was getting wheezy.
With just a few days left of the Fringe, my running mantra holds true for endurance events of a more theatrical nature: just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
My swimming must’ve burned up insane numbers of calories, as I’ve eaten like a racehorse today, in between gigs: The New York All Star Comedy Hour at four, Lord Nelson Presents and Purple. I had intended to sit in the sunshine, but the rain tarted as soon as I left the flat, and I had to scuttle into a coffee shop for shelter.
The MCing is going well, it all felt natural today, possibly because I’ve stopped worrying about doing material and instead just chat to the audience and riff with them. There are a few easy bits to fall back on, but for the most part it’s relaxed and banterish. The cast of Nelson seemed particularly relieved that the disorganised buffoon they (understandably) had me down for turned out to be able to warm up, stick to time and remember names. As if I can only be efficient and sensible for an hour or so at a time!
Purple enjoyed another full house – standing room only – and Raph did his coke and hookers story which already has some lovely lines and is going to shape up into ten solid minutes. I felt very at home with my stuff, and Kev and Steve (formerly Katzenjammer) turned up to cheer us on.
Afterwards we went to the Abattoir bar, which is nice but exposed to the elements. I got chatting to a producer called Stewart, an actress called Myra, and an American lady called Sharon who had a voice you could take home and stuff a duvet with.
Hard work, exercise, a bit of glamour – yes, this was a great day.