After morning ablutions and the abandonment of one meet-up too far, my friend and I headed for lunch - Subway - and then I dropped her at the station. I had a gig in Manchester, so I swung past my friend's house in Leeds where we had coffee, giggles and a random window-cleaner entertaining us with his songs and impressions.
As my friend was very busy, I used the fact that I always seem to work well in his house as an excuse and wrote half of an article I'm putting together for a computer magazine. The words flowed well and the time passed quickly. All too soon his dinner guests (family) arrived and I scooted off to my gig.
The gig was in the centre of Manchester and had an old comedy friend on the bill. We chatted about "peddling the same old shit" and then the gig started. There was competition between the comedy and the general noise from the other side of the curtain - leading to the rest of the pub (this is not Wizard of Oz territory). There was a football match on... and a jukebox.
Somehow the gig kept going and most of the distractions had ceased by the time I took to the stage to peddle my particular brand of "same shit different gig". It went really well and I had a nice time.
Then the long drive back to Reading. I had had a busy weekend already and I was feeling tired.
I declared the last 45 minutes of the journey as sing-along time and kept myself awake, in good spirits, and, more importantly. Alive.