Today's big thing was going to see Richard Herring do his last performance of the Headmaster's Son. It wasn't just that though, it was a big day in lots of ways.
At the eleventh hour, Nina's friend H was able to come with us so that the ticket abandoned by my brother didn't go to waste. We needed to get to Bristol for 8pm but decided to head off around 2 in the spirit of a day out. P brought his sat-nav which was a fantastic help.
The fun started outside out front door. A disembodied voice shouting 'Wankers' repeatedly. She didn't seem to be shouting at anyone in particular, just at the world in general. We all fell about laughing, but couldn't see the person responsible, which seemed a bit of a shame. That kind of comedy is hard to top.
We got to the Tobacco Factory in Bristol just after 4.30. It's a big space, in a regeneration area which is both poor and arty making for an unusual mix of inhabitants. There were lots of small shops beginning to close, and no evening places open. I was hot, tired, and - most importantly - without a hat. The sun was incredibly strong and I knew that I might well get a headache that would ruin my evening. We were practically thrown out of a shop by a gnome like woman 'are you going to buy anything because I'm closing', so we slunk away to find a park. We found one in the end, but I was conscious that by this time I was dithering and being selfish, old, and an arse. N, H, & P went and played in the sun, they had been incredibly kind to me which says a lot for them as I didn't deserve it. I sat on a bench under a tree watching men practicing their tightrope skills. I did a bit of writing which I haven't dared to re-read, it might be brilliant, but I suspect not.
We went in search of tea but ended up eating Londis sandwiches at a bus stop.
Back at the Tobacco Factory things started to improve. We went in well after Doors Open as I didn't feel like being at the front (the performance was being filmed for DVD). We split up, and I sat next to a retired man, light skinned with a red nose, much the worse for drink. He engaged me by asking if I was a teacher, going on to say that he thought a lot of teachers would come in order to reminisce because of the title. Alarm bells began to ring. I asked him if he had seen the performance before, he said not. Under questioning, I told him that I had seen it and had come again because it was really good. 'Ah, so we'll enjoy it' he said. I thought not, trying to imagine how he would deal with the wanking off paedophiles routine (or even any of the routine at all). Nina rescued me and H by finding seats for us together elsewhere, watching me from across the way had given her and P a good giggle. I couldn't help but keep an eye on my new friend. He and his wife didn't laugh the whole time. He fell asleep for a while, and they left in the interval.
Richard Herring was on good form and had an appreciative crowd. I have loved Headmaster's Son and was pleased I made the long journey for the last performance. I'm sad it was the last one, but it's a relief in a way because I've got a bit obsessed with parts of it, it has caught me up so that although I've seen it four times I still can't quote it. I thought Herring was a bit quick and nervy to start, but that he did the stronger parts of the routine better than ever. H and P who hadn't seen the show enjoyed it, which I was glad about because I was conscious that it isn't to everybody's taste and wouldn't have wanted to offend them.
We got back to Coventry at 1am. I was incredibly touched that P who had control of the mp3 player put Pulp on for me as he knows I like them without me asking him. Kindness beyond the call of duty. H and P sensibly stayed over, and along with Nina, got off early to work. I was glad of the thought of a lie in.
Is a disembodied voice shouting 'wanker' funnier than Richard Herring? No, but she did have that one brillant piece of material.
www.richardherring.com
www.tobaccofactory.com
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