It's the little things that can seem so hard to do. I really need to break the inertia which is holding me down a bit here. Today I managed to get myself booked for a dental appointment (well, two). I did it while getting lunch by simply steering myself into the dentist's. I needed to register and sort myself out, and the opportunity presented itself, so I just did it. That was easy.

There are a number of other little things I just can seem to get around to. I really want to tell everyone I know in Newcastle that I'm gigging at the Chillingham Arms on 5th June and that they should come. In some ways mentioning it on here is a start, but it's not a guarantee that the message will get across. I need to sit down at my home PC and send out some emails... maybe even a Facebook event.

So many other little things I can't quite do. I can talk big always, but I sometimes get stalled on a task I need to do. I'm sure I could leave my ironing undone for a few more days, but I think we're at fever pitch with it now. There is a lot of ironing to do. Hours of it.

I shall do some DIY tonight. I really shall. Then I will do some ironing. Perhaps I'll watch some Big Train, or maybe I'll iron my way through Raiders Of The Lost Ark. I might like that. Do dee do dooo, dum de doo.

I managed to break various degrees of inertia and do something productive in the house tonight. After a fairly demanding day in the office, it seemed like the perfect end to the day was to nip to Tesco for some food, and then promise myself that I'd do about 3 hours of DIY before getting to eat it. I arrived home at 7ish, and after I'd prepared myself for the work ahead, it was 7.30.

Sign Here
I started out easy. I painted the board that I have attached to my garage with another coat of white paint. The purpose of this board is to be the backdrop to a sign that reads something like:



Though I suspect that I need to write something more friendly in order to encourage people to avoid parking across my drive and garage. I think that it can't be negative like:



Negative doesn't really work. Though, I like the "please". The secret to these signs is simplicity. Never use the word "would". Example:



It sounds like a school marm complaining that there's marmalade in her petticoats again. So, the key has to be something in the positive which hasn't got too many words and sounds friendly, direct, and gives the message that the drive and garage entrance should be kept clear.



Possible... though I think it may be misunderstood and not adhered to. It also need to have few words, so it can be written in large without requiring the whole garage door in place of the nice 400 x 400 board I've got up there.



Perhaps too short - and keep what clear?



Something like that. The jury is still out. Answers on a postcard to "Would you please think of a better sign you bastard. PO Boxed in by cars. Reading".

Patching
On a roll, like a nice slice of cheese, I then progressed to some light painting in the kitchen. This took only a few seconds in total. All I had to do was paint a small section of wall where the paint had started to bubble and put a little paint on a bit of a patch to the plastering which I'd needed to do after the radiator was fitted. There'll be a second coat to both of those required, but they already look a lot nicer.

This is what you need to do when you've got a massive job like "oh my god, the house is nowhere near done" - focus on manageable discrete and achievable tasks.

Filling
Then I went onto the "gun of the brown poo". This is the name I give to a special wood filler that I find very effective for... erm... filling wood. It's brown in colour, but don't be racist. Equipped with this, I went round making small patches to various bits of door frame and also the big framing that I've constructed upstairs to hide my central heating system.

Sanding
I'll be honest with you, I don't like sanding. I keep pretending that it's fun, especially with the various machines I've enlisted into the service of sanding. It's not. It's a pain in the arse. It creates lots of nasty dust. Doing it by hand is too much like hard work and ends up giving me rough skin. Doing it by machine is more effective, but noisy and tiresome, especially as one has to change the sheets. One day I'll invent something better.

Anyway, I've been realising that a lot of the work on progressing my house is contingent on completing sanding tasks. So, I set about the sanding in my second bedroom. I used my new random orbital sander, which is deeply effective and can strip wood down completely if given half the chance. I coupled this with another sander and a little action by hand. The process took long enough that I even ended up sanding some of the filling I'd done previously.

Other prep
In no particular order there was also the removal of about 3 inches of carpet around the border of the second bedroom, to allow access to the skirting board (the carpet is knackered, so it's no loss) and there was various bits of vacuuming - mainly to reduce dust levels and prepare for painting.

Primed and ready
Then there was the bit where I whacked some primer on bits of bare wood that I'd either gotten ready through sanding, or had accidentally laid bare through sanding. A certain amount of joy was derived from painting over the bits of door frame I'd filled. The architrave of the door had, in the past, been cut in various places to allow random bits of door furniture to be attached. I've painstakingly cut spare bits of architrave into the shape of the holes and glued them back into place to make the architrave continuous again - the result of painting it is that I can now appreciate how close to a good job that achieves. Not bad.

Food
I rewarded myself with some fat-reducing grilled food. Note to self, the underside metal bits get hot too. Still, I've managed to reduce some of the fat in one of my fingers, so that's nice.

Big Train
I finished watching series one of Big Train. I then proceeded to look at the DVD extras. With TV on demand, it looks like DVDs are starting to seem an unnecessary, but then the DVD extras will probably not be included in the on demand, so perhaps they are worth buying the disc for? Right?

Have you ever really enjoyed the DVD extras? Are they really worth it?

In the case of Big Train, I watched the deleted scenes, expecting to feel like it was a few minutes of my life I wouldn't get back. As it happens, what I effectively got was an episode's worth of sketches that were of a similar quality to those in the broadcast show. Some of the production was a little roug around the edges as they'd been cut and not quite finished. There was no laughter track. In some cases, the reason for the cut was that the sketch was just too damn dark for TV. Good. I like dark humour.

So, well worth watching if you're a fan.

Oh what a night
My first proper night in the house in a while and I did loads, then. I even managed to do some washing up and a couple of loads of laundry... ironing didn't happen. I had planned to write some music, but that didn't happen. There are only so many hours in the day, apparently.

After the excesses of last night, I woke up in something of a weakened state. This might make the casual reader imagine that I'd spent the night drinking and taking drugs. In fact, I had stayed completely sober, the only excess of intake being food-related and fat-containing. The excesses which most affected me, though, were the excess of cold (or maybe that's a paucity of heat?) and the general amount of standing around, or bouncing along to music that occurred.

As a result, when I woke up in my sleeping bag, fully clothed, in a caravan, on the second visit of the organiser of the gig, who was packing his stuff up to leave, at around 11.45am, I ached. I was a fair bit warmer than when I got to sleep, but the comfort of the caravan had been mainly in terms of a sofa to kip on. I had expected something more - like some sort of mobile hotel. No. An unheated space, be it a tent or a caravan, is a place to freeze your nuts off in the middle of the night.

I'm not being ungrateful. I had a hassle free "camping" experience and I was treated very well and had had a good gig the night before. It had been a cracker of a day all in. However, it was time to go back down south.

I limped (literally, my leg had seized up) to my car and headed to the nearest services on the A1 where I managed to find some coffee (not too hard) and respite from other requirements of the body. Then I continued my merry journey down south.

Of course there was the Elaine Paige musicals programme to listen to. There were also the CDs from the band that had headlined the night before. The process of sitting in a car for 5 hours to get home wasn't entirely painful. It's what I do.

Back home, I had time to get showered and re-dressed before I was then due to go into Reading for a meeting before the comedy night I was compereing. I decided to be healthy and cycle into town. This was a good move. What wasn't a good move, in hindsight, was the bit where I did a lap of honour of the little market square outside the pub where we do the comedy. It was a nice market square, and the lap of honour was fun. Picking up a puncture wasn't fun. I reckoned I'd just pump the tyre up at the end of the night and replace the inner tube later.

The comedy night went really well. A nice audience. One of the best we've had there in terms of mix of people and numbers. Conversely, they were a bit Sunday-night-sticky. They needed pushing into a laugh. Some of the acts self-destructed a bit. Still, that's new act/new material nights.

Afterwards, I discovered that the new pump for my bike has the wrong attachment for my valves.

I pushed the bike home, via the chip shop. Sod it.

At the chip shop I had a smileathon with a pretty girl who then disappeared into the night. Pointless. But then making a room full of strangers is similarly pointless... though I wouldn't trade it.

I'm partially inspired by the work of Mr Danny Wallace. In his book "Yes Man", Danny basically agreed to every opportunity that came his way and observed the results on his life. Now, I'm not quite going that far - especially since Danny adopted a totally naive approach to what he accepted, probably to punish himself for wasting a few months on his sofa. In my case, I tend to say yes as often as I possibly can, usually as an attempt to push the envelope and keep myself out of my comfort zone.

And so it was that I agreed to MC (or maybe I offered) a rock gig called "Ramshaw Rocks". It was a fundraiser in aid of the Ramshaw Rescue centre in Bishop Auckland. The gig was run by a guy called John Grimshaw, who had arranged for a big tent to be set up in a field on the site of the rescue centre. There was a bonfire ready to be lit. There was space for camping, portaloos, a caravan for the acts to chill out in and a big stage, build out of plywood sat on logs.

Overall, this was a homegrown version of Glastonbury and it was lovingly put together.

My day started as I woke in Newcastle, got myself together and then headed to give the keys to my house to the Estate Agent so that they can sell it. Then I went to Newcastle Airport on a work commitment. Finally, I was free to go to the gig. I was due there for set up and sound checks around the middle of the day. This was in plenty of time.

The show started at about 6pm and went on until after 11pm. I had to choose how to MC it quite carefully. The audience were fairly small in number and it was much more of a family crowd than I felt fit my "singing filthy songs" persona. As a result, I played it friendly and enthusiastic, with occasional caustic lines. All with a smile.

To be honest, I didn't need to do any of my own material. I could have left the guitar at home and just MCed it straight. However, I had gone to the trouble of sound-checking and I felt like I wanted to do something, so I did a couple of songs. What looked to the audience like my hilarious "where are you from" banter was actually just a list of the official regional stereotypes, ever-so-slightly customised for the moment. Still, people had a giggle and the gig was great.

In typical "yes man" fashion, I bought the merchandise that was available to buy. In this case it was a "festival" T-Shirt and the CDs of the final band that played. This is one of my tricks for enjoying festivals. Where possible I will buy the CD. It's a little something you can listen back to as a memento of good times.

Though people were camping, I was given the use of the artistes' caravan, which turned out to be remarkably cold when I eventually chose to retire. Still, I wrapped myself up in my sleeping bag, fully clothed, and waited for the shivering to stop.

My life is so very rock and roll.

I woke. I packed. I went to work. I drove. I listened to a lot of Radio 4. I arrived in Newcastle. I slept.

I was inspired by my work today. Just a little. It was a question of going to work in a different environment, which can definitely follow the "a change is as good as a rest axiom". Actually, it's probably not an axiom. It may be an aphorism or an adage. As always, I digress.

I went to work in a different office, dressed down for the occasion. Dressing down allows me to work better. That's my theory. There's no evidence for it. Also, a change of environment means I can do less of the sometimes bordeline OCD stuff I seem to do when I get too comfy in the same environment as I always work in.

At the end of the working day there was a gig to go to. Off I went to Wolverhampton, as is my way. I arrived in plenty of time, giving me the chance to get settled, talk to the other acts, do my sound check and generally get ready for what was to come. As always, I worried about whether I'd look a dick. The first two acts were also musical. This means that not only do I end up worrying about whether I look funny, but I also end up worrying about whether I look musical enough. Given that the last act also sings, I felt that I'd been assembled as part of a fairly musical bill and fair enough, eh?

I've played this room before and I know that the audience can have a lot of energy if hit right. All I had to do was go out there all guns blazing and I was certain we'd all have a loverley time.

The first act was dressed as a giant badger. As such he couldn't see, nor could he be heard as he had to stick the microphone into his badger head. It looked like there was a wild-animal fellating the sound equipment. I've no idea whether I would have enjoyed his set if it were not for these technical difficulties. Musically, he really managed to achieve an impressive feat, playing drums, tambourine and guitar. The thing you have to bear in mind, from a guitar point of view, is that he was wearing big fat badger hands. So, cleverly, he open-tuned his guitar and equipped his suit with a slide.

Big Badger playing slide guitar. Is it art? Maybe. It bemused and entertained in various measures. Laughter wasn't really forthcoming - at least not scripted laughs.

Second up was a female musical duo (with one song accompanied by a separate guitarist). They had long pieces with glorious harmonies, that required persistence and tenacity to be played to the exceedingly well-received conclusions. They were lovely, but quite short. I believe that was one of their points. Their McFly take-off/send-up left me with a song in my head, but prompted my own McFly material to come out.

My set went nicely - some stuff hit the roof, some stuff didn't. That's the nature of the cookie that crumbles.

A lecturer of most of the students present (I should have said, this was largely an audience composed of a drama course at Wolverhampton Uni) closed the second section and he was very enthralling to listen to.

In the closing section, the headliner, Mrs Barbara Nice, did a raffle and then a stage dive. It's hard to see why that's the behaviour of a national headline comedy act... it's hard to see when you read the words. Had you been there, you would have known. She is 100% A1 class. When I first saw her, she was introduced as a "show-stealing bitch" and though that sounds a little harsh, let's just say that I wouldn't want to compete with her in any way.

Luckily, you don't have to. In a bill like tonight's, you go, do your thing, get the laughs/stares, and then sit back and enjoy. That's how comedy should be.

Looking back over my diary, I've almost always got something to show for each day. I'm writing about this particular day retrospectively, and, to be honest, I can't find very much to say about it. I know that I went home after work and did sod all. I think I may have watched a couple of episodes of Big Train. I may have justified it by saying I was recovering from my cold. There feels like very little excuse for wasting time.

I recall doing some fat-free grilling. However, I was grilling something quite fat, so who is the real fatty? It's me isn't it?

The only achievement of note of today was a presentation I gave within the office. I think people left the presentation with a sense that they'd actually found something out. Feedback was really positive. I didn't give the presentation alone. The other person involved had the rather hard job of demonstrating the system, live.

I think as presentations/PR coups go, we can look back on today as a positive. I wish I'd gone home and done something productive, though.

I firmly believe this. You should jump straight out of your comfort zone from time to time. Maybe this means you should have the sort of night out that you'd not normally have, or maybe you should try a new recipe, or reading something you wouldn't normally read. Alternatively, maybe you should challenge some principal assumptions about your life. Look at sentences that being, "but I have to" and then plan a way for that not to be true.

Note: this doesn't work with child care.

I've been confident in some things and utterly clueless in others in my life. Some of my confidence is deeply misplaced - in these cases, I've often been better off for my delusion. I firmly believe that the world is almost totally founded on degrees of effective delusions. This is the interesting thing, though. I also believe that some lack of confidence is, in itself, a form of delusion. In other words, you can have self-fulfilling delusions in both directions. Example: I lack confidence in passing people in tight corridors because I feel myself to be large and unweildy - as a result, I act awkwardly in corridors and it's awkward... Yes, if I were to believe that I were normal-sized and that other people were relatively abnormal, and if I were to believe that body-space and touching a stranger were no big deal, then I would find myself finding moving through corridors easier.

Note: I don't really have problems in tight corridors.

There are some people whose behaviour we look at in amazement. They just don't seem to give a toss, or maybe they don't know what they look like. Yet they have a good time. I don't know where delusion and confidence truly have a border.

This is why I believe you need to get out of the comfort zone. Doing something that you can't do unconsciously is a good way to try out other parts of your brain. Maybe some things just aren't you. Though I've considered, intellectually, the possibility of courting a same-sex sexual encounter, just to tick the box, I know in my heart of hearts, that I would actually be traumatised by it and would get nothing out of it. That, I think, is in the category of "not me". On the other hand, there are some things which I used to believe you couldn't do. I used to think you couldn't walk up to the prettiest girl in the pub and just say hi - out of the blue - a complete stranger. That's an incorrect assumption.

So, if there's any message from this blether, it's this. Find ways to get out of the comfort zone. Give it a shot. You may not have the technique or even the vocabulary to be capable of doing things you've never done before. That's ok. Just try. It's okay for things to go wrong. It's okay to try again. It took over 100 gigs for me to become even a vaguely competent stand-up and even then, I would say that I only get it right some of the time these days... it's at its best, though, when I'm out of my comfort zone and enjoying myself.

So I've proved my own point with reference to myself. That's the narcissism of blogging.

Sometimes the best way to spend an evening is to do a little housework, get all hot and bothered and then sit, stewing in the heat of the evening, doing nothing of any great importance.

Thankfully there are always repeats of old panel quiz shows on "Dave" to help steal the time at the end of the non-busy evening. Down time. That's the cure to many ills.

I replaced cooking with eating cereal, thus optimising my time for doing less.

I'm looking forward to August when I'll be mentally busy every day doing stand-up etc, but I won't be doing the long car journeys. It will be intense, but I know how to keep my energy up and how to be healthy while having the car-journey/work-free change which turns the stand-up from a part-time job into a full-time holiday.

Today, something had to give. As always, it was the healthy eating. I nearly managed a few days of healthy eating last week, but the weekend drew me toward the dark recesses of naughtiness.

Such are weekends.

A quick run down of today. Are you ready?

I woke up with a slight hangover from last night's debauchery. It was about 9.30. We had to leave at 10. In fact, we left late. I take the blame. I was too slow to get going and then had to sort out a few loose ends with the neighbour. So, it was 10.45 when, equipped with sandwiches from the co-op, we headed down south away from Newcastle.

My hangover had two dimensions. There was the general "being poisoned and dehydrated" aspect of it. There was also a distinct lack of hearing in my left ear. This was inconvenient as it was the ear next to my in-car companion, causing much repetition in his side of the conversation. The left ear was affected as I'd been sitting with the DJ to my left in the pub in which we ended up dancing late into the night. Though he was playing vinyl, which apparently sounds better, he was playing it loudly, which apparently destroys the ability for you to be able to tell, ever again.

I've blethered about hangovers in place of explaining what happened on the journey - we drove and stopped at services occasionally. Then we got to Reading. I took a quick rest break there and then drove to Southampton where I picked up two people for the gig in Newbury. Arriving at Newbury, we found out that an act was stranded back in Reading, so I went back to Reading to pick him up. Then back to Newbury. Then there was the gig, which was fun.

I closed the gig and then drove the two acts back to Southampton before returning to Reading where I, not unsensibly, became insensible with sleep and slept.

In between all the driving, snack food was purchased. One has to keep vaguely conscious during the long drives - injections of carbs, proteins and fats seem to do the trick.

I'll eat more fruit. I promise.