MOVING TOMORROW

I'm moving flat tomorrow. I've lived in this flat for almost 9 years. WTF? Where did that go?

In the first few years, I got my first fish tank and I got my two furry feline friends, Mornington and Lucy and of course - I got rid of my useless tossbag of a boyfriend too.

Then the years merge into one big hazy blur. I left my job at Transport for London and soon found myself working at Islington Council, where still I lurk.

I put in a new kitchen at some stage.

I went to quite a few festivals.

I volunteered at the zoo.

I even took up comedy two years ago.

I've lost old friends and made new ones. I am lucky to know some fantastic people.

I've met and spent time with various different men... none of those - The One... a fair amount of freaks!

I guess I never planned to still be single... over seven years after splitting from Steph, but shitting heck, you can't plan for love hey!?

SO...

Although the sale of this flat and purchase of my new home has taken ten months, it has been a lot longer than that as a plan for myself. For years, I have harboured not so secret longings to expand into a two bedroom place, with my very own little garden... and now it is happening.

I guess when I thought of that little place, I saw it as something I'd be doing with a partner. After a long old time, I started to realise, maybe I shouldn't wait for the partner to get the home I want...As it happens, I am doing it with someone I love. I wouldn't bone her, but I think we'll be happy for a while...

Someone I work with laughed at me, when I got a bit emotional and explained - "this is my little dream flat I'm getting here." He scoffed, saying something along the lines of "Christ Jo, Your Dream Flat is a Two bed flat in Walthamstow? I think I'd probably have gone for an Exclusive Loft Apartment in Central London or something a bit more up market."

"Yes", I said... "but I'm getting this flat and you still rent a room from a mate, so who is the stupid one, between us?"

Anywho, enough of this navel gazing, I still have a lot of rubbish to clear up, a lot of boxes to pack and a lot of cleaning to do. I might be without internet for a few weeks, but I'll be back on as soon as I can to tell you how the big move went.

Moving Areas for concern:

1) Killing Roger the Goldfish in transit.

2) Mum and Dad killing each other in transit. I'd have opted for Mum not to be involved, but she has involved herself. She is very good and get things done, but has that tone that is seriously bossy and can increase tensions very quickly. I do not want a tense moving day!

3) Escaped or traumatised kitties.

4) Being up all night tonight, because I wasted the day on the interwebs...?

On that Note - Wish me well people... I'm going up in the world.

Edinburgh

As some of you may know, I have recently returned from a week in Edinburgh. I travelled up with Norman Cho and can put all your minds at rest, that: Yes, he is just as obsessive in person, as he is in his amazing blog. I think we got on ok though, I'm used to my own company or that of the cats, so when faced with extended periods around actual people, I do worry how I might react. Well, if I haven't thrown furniture at you after a few hours or broken in to relentless sobbing, then I'm tolerating you to a fairly decent standard... Norm didn't ever run screaming from me, so I take that as a good sign.

The journey and all the arrangements seemed fine, with me opting, after some deliberation to stay in student digs although Norm had offered me a room in his flat a little further out. I like to have my own bathroom and a bit of extra privacy. It's a girl thing.

I didn't get to see quite as many shows as I'd planned. One day was spent out of the game with a sickness bug, one day spent out of the game ... on the phone to my solicitor and several other days where I lacked the focus required to get me to the right places at the right time, but most days I saw two or three shows and I even blagged free entry into 2 So You Think You're Funny Semi Finals and a few other shows too. I took a walk around the Museum one day and a walk up to the Royal Botanic Gardens, not forgetting what a very special city Edinburgh is!

It was overall a really good week. I got to see the shows and performances of some of my comedy buddies including, but not exclusively, Laura Carr, Lindsay Sharman, Paul Duncan McGarrity, Ant Dewson and David Gibson. I spent a few happy nights at Get Happy and did a fair amount of drinking with various different people depending on who I had latched myself onto...

I knew before I went that next year I want to do the whole run at the Edinburgh Fringe, probably as part of a two or three person show. What I really got a taste for this year is how horrible it will be. It will be exhausting. It will be demoralising. It will be expensive and a lot of the times it won't be funny!

People I spoke to aren't just doing their own shows; most if not all, are doing an extra spot or two (or three or four) per day. Add in the flyering and the drinking... Well, did I mention it is exhausting? Thing is, it is an incredible way to experience the business of comedy. I'd stick my neck out and say there is probably no other way to immerse yourself in comedy, than to go all in and do a month Edinburgh. Then at the end, you come back and you take your place on the open mic scene, but you come back with more material, you come back and five minutes is like a stroll in the park. Maybe if it goes ok and it doesn't break you, you come back and you have learnt immense amounts and you are much stronger comedian for it.

During my week, I did three open spots ... That brings me up to gig 103 now, for those of us still counting. Three more than I did the year before in Edinburgh. The first one got a nice reception at Al Cowie's Llaugh, although I did bail after only three or four minutes, I was going really well and didn't want to ruin it by tailing off at the end....

The second one got a slightly more awkward reception, but not a total loss, at a gig run by Simon Lilley, called The Dog That Ate Your Birthday Cake... nice name for a comedy showcase. There were lots of audience there, they just seemed a bit ... well not there. I tripped over some important lines and could see my hand shaking, which I know does a comic no favours in terms of owning a room... Ooops. I had a hangover more than I had fear of performance!

The last spot was at Electric Cabaret. A drunken late night open mic show, on this occasion, it was inhabited mostly by the regulars at DSS, where the most impressive thing I showcased was a picture of my knitted owl and a demonstration of my crab. Oh well... A gig is a gig. Other comedians tried juggling and cartwheels. I guess you had to be there! Or maybe it is best that you weren't.

Thanks to anyone that let me anywhere near a mic anyway. Oh and thanks to anyone who, stopped to say hello or have a pint with me. It really did make for a great week away.

Edinburgh, I shall see you next year. Right, all I have to do now, is get lots more comedy practice, spend some time doing some proper writing and get heaps better as a comedian generally, so I don't make a twat of myself when I get there... As they say in Italy - No Problemo...

I'll crack on with that, right after I've moved flat. Yes... for today is my last whole day and one more sleep until I move peoples. It only took ten months, but this sh*t is really going down :)

TODAY

Is my 100th stand up gig. That isn't until later though. Guess what else I'm doing today....

YES... Pre Flat Move Preparations. I'm sorting, tidying, shredding, throwing and packing up all my stuff.

I've admitted to friends that I'm doing 10 years worth of shredding this weekend. A lot of people have commented on how shredding is really tiresome, a few have said they find it therapeutic though. All have commented on how shredders overheat so easily and what a pain that is. Mine never overheats though. It jams so fucking often, it doesn't get a chance to overheat.

Shredding hey. I've been thinking about this. We shred to protect our identity, but if I was an identity thief, I'd wouldn't want the identity of someone anal enough to shred. I'd want to be someone exciting to whom the very idea of a shredder was laughable.

I'm doing a lot of sneezing too. It seems all my belongings are riddled with allergens! Gross...

OK, if anybody finds a living room floor, it is mine. I think I must have misplaced it under 10 years worth of electricity bills, payslips and smear test invitations.

Come to the gig later if you are in London Bridge, it is at Platform Bar, Tooley Street, Doors 7, Show 7.30. It is Funny Women competition heat.

CRUSH STUDY

I agreed to take part in a 'scientific' study for a report on relationships. Here is a summary of the findings.

The study examined a range of encounters recalled and recounted by myself - with 238 male friends, colleagues and other acquaintances I had met through the years.

Of those encounters, I formed crushes on 232 of the men. (6 were relatives).

The study found that it takes me on average 3 minutes and 48 seconds to form a crush from the time of being introduced to a man. Then, depending on the severity of the crush, it can take me anything from seven weeks, to thirteen years to fully recover.

The study found that 97 % of my crushes have remained entirely unrequited and led only to my shame and humiliation.

65% of those men, turned out to be gay and a further 12% "went gay" out of sheer panic when faced with the horrors of my advances.

Of the 3% of crushes that have led to romantic scenarios (not including those scenarios imagined by me - these were real snogs, and even a couple of leg overs), there has ultimately been one outcome, common to all scenarios: Tears. Mine.

Conclusions of the Study - I'm an idiot, who forms inappropriate crushes, but cannot sustain genuine loving relationships.

Ho Hum. Thank You Science.

Oh, I had to go to the solicitors yesterday to sign all the bits and bobs connected with the move... (and no... still no exchange or completion dates confirrmed.) Anyway, there I was at the solicitors and wasn't Mr Bentley the most delicious solicitor ever!? I shall call him Beebee. (as in Bob Bentley) Mmmmm. Beebee. I heart you. I saw the way you looked at me as you explained my lease extension...

Author's note - This idea still needs work, but I think there is some humour in there somewhere....