Monday, December 05, 2005

Rich Hall last night. He was funny enough, although we were quite familiar with his stuff (great rants about George Bush, mind you). I was shattered when I realised that the song he does about people's jobs isn't as spontaneously improvised as I naively thought it was. Oh well. The support was appallingly average - David O Doherty I think was his name. Just a bit of a wet week, with his songs about dying pets belted out on his small organ. Ho hum.
Bit of discussion re the play on Friday evening in a cosy village pub. It seems that we're thinking along similar lines, which is cool. More alcohol on Saturday night in a busy Hull pub full of beer monsters and the scantily clad. It was my last weekend in my thirties. But, in the noisy atmosphere of that hell hole, I fitted in about as well as an 80-year-old and actually found myself hankering after a quieter establishment where it wouldn't make your throat hurt to talk/inaudibly mumble before saying "what?" a lot to the people talking/inaudibly mumbling back to you. Birthday on Friday. Hurrah. It will be good. For starters, I'm off work. And that always puts a smile on my Keith Richards-alike craggy face.
Back to the university tonight, to deliver the same guest spot as I did to the other half of the students last week. See, I learnt a lot watching Rich Hall on stage.

Listening: Richard Ashcroft - Human Conditions. Guilty pleasure: Mark Owen - How The Mighty Fall.

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