Ping Pong Ding Dong

Warming Ups

8187/21107

Is it really 21 years since I did the Marathon? Weirdly I felt like a veteran at the time, but I was only 36. I am fairly confident that I won't be doing it ever again, but never say never. I might have another crack at a half, if I ever feel well again.

We had a late check out at the hotel, but frustratingly I still woke up at 7am, but took it easy, had a long breakfast and a bath. I thought I might be feeling better, but the family Facetimed me at midday and it was the first time I spoke (apart from ordering porridge at breakfast) and I quickly realised that I was still fucked.

But at least it was a very short journey to Newcastle and the hotel was literally next door to the venue, so I wouldn't destroy myself with a long walk carrying heavy bags.

It was good not to have the travel, but it does mean you have a lot of time to kill before the gig (and it was a late start today) and I thought about getting some sleep, but just read and chilled and then tried to find some food. Everything I looked at made me feel nauseous, so I finally went for a basic cheese and ham toastie at Costa, which felt like a hate crime, but it was all I could stomach. It's not like I regularly branch away from Pret or M and S salads on tour, though at least there are some more healthy options.

Though it had been a late lunch I realised I needed more food before the gig, but again I didn't have the desire for anything even as complicated as a burger.

At the end of the street where the stand is, a homeless guy was asking for change. I didn't have any change as I pay for everything with my watch now. The decline of the cash economy must really be hitting homeless people hard. Buskers have card readers now, but I am not sure how asking for card donations would play if you're begging for money. I told him I was sorry and he said, "You look like an artist."

I don't know if that's true, but I awkwardly thanked him anyway. I guess I don't look like too many 57 year old men. Maybe he thought that that was the kind of compliment that would make me reconsider a gift. And it was quite a discombobulating comment. I am not an artist (and if I am, my paint is made of cock jokes), but for a man of conventional tastes from a conventional family, I have led an unconventional life. Though I guess all this comment really boiled down to was that I have long hair.

I ended up in Greggs, which I've been a bit sniffy about in the past, based on nothing but my own prejudice and the belief that it's all sausage rolls, but they do pretty decent sandwiches, even at 6pm on a Sunday. There was a security guard in the store, which felt like a bit much for a sandwich shop, but there was a little drama as I queued to pay as the guy in front of me was asked to open his bag and was accused of stealing bottles of pop. I don't know if he was guilty or not - he claimed he'd bought the cokes somewhere else and it would have been audacious to just put them in his bag when the shop had security and only three customers. But then again, the security guard must have seen something. He didn't ask me to empty my pockets and from the reaction of the staff I got the feeling that they might have encountered this guy before.

It says a lot about how desperate things have got in this country that so much stuff is being taken from Greggs that it's worth them employing someone to stop it happening. How many sandwiches and mozzarella bites and packs of crisps do you have to be losing to justify the wages of an extra staff member. I doubt the guard got paid very much (though he took his job seriously) but then Greggs doesn't have many diamond necklaces on display.

I got another cheese sandwich and unusually for this store, I paid for it and as I had to retrace my steps I then immediately regretted the fact that I hadn't bought an extra sandwich for the homeless guy.

I'd expected another tricky show tonight, but the double cheese sandwich did the trick and I had energy right from the start. Despite it being a late Sunday show and having played this venue on the last tour, it seemed pretty packed in there and it was a great audience. Though I'd consider this show a theatrical monologue, it is so packed with jokes that it plays almost better in a stand up club. Doctor Stand Up Club worked for me and I forgot about being tired and ill and had a blast.

11 shows left, Birmingham (LAST FEW TICKETS), Lincoln, Leek(SOLD OUT), Salford, Harrogate, Warwick Arts, Newhampton, Northampton, Stevenage, Salisbury, Bristol. Tickets and details here.

I am doing a RHLSTP in Chesham on 24th May at 1pm! Don't know who the guest will be yet, just know that it won't be Alex Horne (who is not available). Tickets here.

8188/21108

Back in the 1970s I started playing table tennis - there was an after school club at Fairlands Middle School where you could move up the league table by playing the pupils directly above you. I remember having a fierce rivalry with Dave Weekes, whose was better than me (and whose dad ran the bakery - some guys have all the luck). Occasionally you'd hear of some kid who had a ping pong table in their garage. I might even have played on one. Or maybe that was just a beautiful dream.

Imagine being one of those families that has their own table tennis table. Absolute bastards. Wait, I don't have to. Forty years on I'm allowed to just buy one. And have people remember my kids as being absolute bastards. Phoebe has really enjoyed playing it on holidays and she's pretty good, so obviously this purchase is for the kids. Though I guess they'll have to play with someone. And yes you can put one side of the table up and play yourself at table tennis. So podcast ahoy and this could be a valid business expense. We're all winners.

We'd set off from Newcastle at 7am (as my substitute tour manager is a dad to young kids and wakes up early regardless like I do) which meant we were home for lunch, which was a nice bonus, though all it meant was that I could get on with bits of annoying admin, most notably having to send my sat nav back to Romania for a second time as it's still freezing up intermittently. Because it seems there's nothing wrong if you stay in one place I imagine they will do the same as last time and just reload the maps and send it back to me and we'll just keep shipping a sat nav between here and Romania for the rest of our lives, or the length of the warranty, whichever is shorter.

I also had to get windscreen wipers for the tour car, so I shot off to Halfords to get that sorted. I knew I could be back in good time for the ping pong table delivery, though the delivery drivers turned up two hours early, just after I arrived back home.

They carried the big box through to the garden, took a photo and made me sign their form and were gone. It was only when I opened the box two hours later that I noticed that one of the bits of table was somewhat buckled. And then I saw the other half had some of its marking rubbed off and was pretty badly bent. Somewhere along the line someone had banged this thing up pretty good. My excited children (and let's face it me) started to cry as we had to put the bits away and get in touch with the company I'd bought it from to let them know that we had a defective product. And with that all the admin of sorting out the collection of the busted table and delivery of a new one. I thought I'd be playing table tennis, but I was on the phone to the shop, then their customer service and they then said they'd have to pass it on to the manufacturers. Having played a long range game of table tennis with a sat nav, it looked like the same might happen with this table.

I was pretty annoyed, mainly because there is no way that whoever dropped the thing had not realised that they'd broken the thing, but had nonetheless decided to pretend that nothing had happened.

My dreams of playing ping pong in the next Olympics (and insisting on calling it ping pong) were in tatters. I was glad that one of the photos I sent through to customer services had inadvertently caught Phoebe crying in the background!

i just take some comfort for the fact that three things have broken recently (our wifi, the satnav and this table) and unusually I am not to blame for any of it.

Retro RHLSTP with the legendary Miriam Margoyles is up and also for the first time, the full video is free on youtube.

I don't know how I got so much done today, but I also put up a load of cool stuff on ebay to help raise funds to make more podcasts. So if you want any of these rarities then get involved, or help us out by putting in a bid and hoping someone outbids you! https://www.ebay.co.uk/usr/herring1967

8189/21109

Going to be trying a few things out with the podcast over the next few months. I have a surprising amount of gaps to fill between the end of May and the beginning of the Edinburgh Fringe and obviously with the stand up tour I can't do too many live on stage (though am doing Chesham and Sheffield in the coming weeks and then the Edinburgh Fringe).

Today I got the train into London to head to the Podcast Room studio near Great Portland Street to do three podcasts in four hours. It's quite an intense way of creating content, but it worked well, I think. I did two Book Club podcasts, which don't usually have an audience and most often are recorded remotely. But I got to look Johnny Ball and David Nicholls in their actual faces in a mildly stuffy subterranean room. Both were great value in very different ways. And then I did a regular RHLSTP with the wonderful Nick Helm, who has been through a bit of a tough time recently, but has emerged like a beautiful shouty butterfly and seems very content. It's a different podcast without an audience and I am not going to eschew live shows entirely, but I might ease off a little and just do one new RHLSTP a week and see what works, and maybe have a bit of time to do some writing again.

London was fun in the sunshine. I arrived at St Pancras and had some lunch at St Pancras as I finished Johnny's book. A large party of tourists sat at the next table and left their suitcases by the barrier a few feet away and some police officers came to warn them to keep them close, as there had been a lot of bag thefts. Welcome to London.

I walked up to Great Portland Street station in the sunshine. I passed a fireman cleaning his fire engine at the fire station. The soapy water poured out on to the pavement. I thought I might write about it in my blog so took some photos, as it struck me as weirdly beautiful or meaningful. I have no idea why now though. So there's the photos. The poetry came with the sunshine on my face and now the sunshine has gone, so has the poetry. Now I just think it looks like a big load of fireman spunk.

I was tired at the end of the intense podcasting in a windowless basement and worried that the room might smell of sweaty men or more accurately sweaty me. But no one complained. I walked back to St Pancras and because it was rush hour my train was packed (and also delayed as the driver hadn't made it to the station where he was meant to take over). My leg was hurting and I was exhausted and so I went and sat in the relatively empty first class carriage, even though I didn't have a first class ticket. I couldn't see a ticket inspector wanting to work their way up this packed train and I thought I'd probably be able to argue that I needed a seat and this was the only one available. But no one challenged me and I got away with my theft (and was able to write the blurbs for the podcasts at my table). When I finally got off at Hitchin (about 30 minutes late) I wanted to shout, "Ha ha, you suckers. I sat in first class but didn't pay the extra." But I figured that probably half the carriage were doing the same and also the man sitting on the next table was wearing a jumper indicating he worked for the rail company. So I kept quiet. It would have been a shame to blow it at the last minute.