Never Meet Your Heroes?
Last night was our gig in Earls Barton. Way back when we organised this, I wasn't sure if I was going to attend as it clashed with Alt Fiction in Derby. Then I thought, maybe I can do both? Then N injured his arm, preventing us from being able to drive anywhere. I don't know if you've ever tried going to Derby by train but it's not the easiest place to get to... and bloody expensive. Besides, I book the acts for this gig and someone needs to be on site panicking about whether or not they are going to turn up.
So, I turned down a guest spot at Alt Fiction to manage this event. Okay, let's make this a good one, I thought. Let's invite those acts I love, REALLY love to do this. So I got mah favourite comedian, Richard Herring, to headline. And he said yes! Result! Then we booked the wonderful Caroline Mabey to open. She said, "You do know that's the same day as England's first game in the World Cup, don't you?" Actually, no we didn't, because we really don't care about such things. But that made us start to worry a bit, because not everyone has my level of intellect and sophistication. (Even my brother, who is probably slightly more intelligent than I am, lets himself down by being a football obsessive. So much so, he bought a HD TV specially to watch the game last night, only for ITV to cut to an ad break at the time when England scored their only goal. That's karma for you.)
But anyway, the date was fixed as Earls Barton Festival could not be moved. So we carried on booking some fabulous acts for the middle section - James W Smith, Ashwell & Hirst and David Trent. And I continued worrying.
We distracted ourselves during the day by going to watch Northampton's carnival parade with my bro, his wife and baby Ashleigh. We stood at the end of the route, so a lot of the fat baton twirlers who passed us were looking particularly knackered and quite a few had given up twirling, dancing or even smiling. The Jesus Freaks (official name!) had a float near the end. There's something a bit creepy about giving a small child a banner to hold saying 'Judgement or Mercy' (from my editor's point of view, I ask what's the 'or' doing there?) and it was disconcerting to see the float decorated with pictures of dinosaurs with the words 'myths and legends' above them, and 'or FACT' in front of a picture of the sky over some flats. Ah, yes, we can see the flats, we know they're there. But dinosaurs, no, I think they've been made up. I can't see any. What do you mean there's one in Bletchley...? They followed this with a banner saying 3 nails + 1 cross = 4given. Wow, that's great, because maths is so rational. My favourite slogan - Got a problem? Jesus can CRUCIfix it!
Good costumes though. And good to see Debs and Dan on the bikes leading the whole procession.
But I forgot just how much Northampton does not care about football. Who knows, without the match it could have been standing room only, but there were enough people anyway to fill the room, which Caroline in particular seemed quite bemused by. Yep, we do Rugby. And shoes.
We had been reassured by Richard Herring's tweets and mentions on BBC6 yesterday that he was definitely coming, but his agent had told us he required a soundcheck at 6.30. So by 9.30 we were a bit panicky. But no, he arrived, and was still able to watch the middle section as we had delayed things to give him a chance to get there. I told him about how his agent had said to be there at 6.30. "That was never going to happen," he said. Ah , great.
So the gig went off without a hitch. It wasn't Ewan's best gig, I'm afraid, but it's a discerning crowd down there, and the other acts all passed their high standards, I'm glad to say.
... and I got to meet one of my comedy heroes. I had wondered what this would be like. When I met my literary heroes, Storm Constantine and Ian Watson, they became my mates. Iain Banks took me out for a beer and a curry. Katy-Jane Garside invited me backstage for an after-gig party. So, you know, the bar was set pretty high. I had hopes of getting to talk to him about his very funny book How Not to Grow Up, perhaps get him to put in a good word for me at Ebury Press (so that next time they can employ a proofreader who picks up on the mangled footnotes). But Richard knew Caroline and James quite well, so mostly talked to them... and my copy of How Not to Grow Up came back home with me, unsigned.
I was quite heartened that a couple of people came up to me and asked if I was performing and were disappointed when I said no (one lady asked me this in front of Richard Herring, but did he hear? No).
But still, it seems I am actually quite good at this comedy malarkey, so one day our paths shall cross again, perhaps. One day, when I'm all cynical, jaded and blasé about such things.
So, I turned down a guest spot at Alt Fiction to manage this event. Okay, let's make this a good one, I thought. Let's invite those acts I love, REALLY love to do this. So I got mah favourite comedian, Richard Herring, to headline. And he said yes! Result! Then we booked the wonderful Caroline Mabey to open. She said, "You do know that's the same day as England's first game in the World Cup, don't you?" Actually, no we didn't, because we really don't care about such things. But that made us start to worry a bit, because not everyone has my level of intellect and sophistication. (Even my brother, who is probably slightly more intelligent than I am, lets himself down by being a football obsessive. So much so, he bought a HD TV specially to watch the game last night, only for ITV to cut to an ad break at the time when England scored their only goal. That's karma for you.)
But anyway, the date was fixed as Earls Barton Festival could not be moved. So we carried on booking some fabulous acts for the middle section - James W Smith, Ashwell & Hirst and David Trent. And I continued worrying.
We distracted ourselves during the day by going to watch Northampton's carnival parade with my bro, his wife and baby Ashleigh. We stood at the end of the route, so a lot of the fat baton twirlers who passed us were looking particularly knackered and quite a few had given up twirling, dancing or even smiling. The Jesus Freaks (official name!) had a float near the end. There's something a bit creepy about giving a small child a banner to hold saying 'Judgement or Mercy' (from my editor's point of view, I ask what's the 'or' doing there?) and it was disconcerting to see the float decorated with pictures of dinosaurs with the words 'myths and legends' above them, and 'or FACT' in front of a picture of the sky over some flats. Ah, yes, we can see the flats, we know they're there. But dinosaurs, no, I think they've been made up. I can't see any. What do you mean there's one in Bletchley...? They followed this with a banner saying 3 nails + 1 cross = 4given. Wow, that's great, because maths is so rational. My favourite slogan - Got a problem? Jesus can CRUCIfix it!
Good costumes though. And good to see Debs and Dan on the bikes leading the whole procession.
But I forgot just how much Northampton does not care about football. Who knows, without the match it could have been standing room only, but there were enough people anyway to fill the room, which Caroline in particular seemed quite bemused by. Yep, we do Rugby. And shoes.
We had been reassured by Richard Herring's tweets and mentions on BBC6 yesterday that he was definitely coming, but his agent had told us he required a soundcheck at 6.30. So by 9.30 we were a bit panicky. But no, he arrived, and was still able to watch the middle section as we had delayed things to give him a chance to get there. I told him about how his agent had said to be there at 6.30. "That was never going to happen," he said. Ah , great.
So the gig went off without a hitch. It wasn't Ewan's best gig, I'm afraid, but it's a discerning crowd down there, and the other acts all passed their high standards, I'm glad to say.
... and I got to meet one of my comedy heroes. I had wondered what this would be like. When I met my literary heroes, Storm Constantine and Ian Watson, they became my mates. Iain Banks took me out for a beer and a curry. Katy-Jane Garside invited me backstage for an after-gig party. So, you know, the bar was set pretty high. I had hopes of getting to talk to him about his very funny book How Not to Grow Up, perhaps get him to put in a good word for me at Ebury Press (so that next time they can employ a proofreader who picks up on the mangled footnotes). But Richard knew Caroline and James quite well, so mostly talked to them... and my copy of How Not to Grow Up came back home with me, unsigned.
I was quite heartened that a couple of people came up to me and asked if I was performing and were disappointed when I said no (one lady asked me this in front of Richard Herring, but did he hear? No).
But still, it seems I am actually quite good at this comedy malarkey, so one day our paths shall cross again, perhaps. One day, when I'm all cynical, jaded and blasé about such things.