I am ill, hence the hilarious and ever so clever Dollop title. Ill, as in the medical sense of the word, rather than the more positive, urban, street, bad-ass way, although, let’s be honest, I tick that box as well. Just to make sure I haven’t confused things even more here with my attempts of clarification, by bad-ass, that is also meant in the urban, street sense; I don’t have anything wrong with my ass. Sorry, I just thought I better clarify that when I said “I don’t have anything wrong with my ass,” I meant that I don’t have anything wrong with my backside, as opposed to referring to my donkey, who is, incidentally, now we’re on the subject, feeling a tad under the weather at the moment. I just thought I better explain that in case I’d managed to add further confusion in my attempts to offer further clarification about my first clarification. So just to be clear then: I am ill, in the medical sense rather than the urban, street, bad-ass sense, but my illness has nothing to do with my backside.
Sorry, I know that was a bit of a ridiculous opening paragraph, but in my defence, I am ill. Also in my defence, it’s very difficult to write today’s Dollop as the three of us are in The tiny Young’uns van, which is so cramped that I have to angle the laptop so that it’s side on with half of it on my lap and half on Michael’s lap. If I have the laptop straight then it blocks Sean’s access to the gear stick, and while I’d admit that you might be able to describe this as a car crash Dollop, at least it’s only figuratively so, whereas one false move with the laptop …
Just imagine what would happen if we did have a fatal crash. The police would find my laptop perched on top of our dead bodies, and when they read what was on the screen, they’d find the first paragraph of today’s Dollop, and tears of great sorrow would well up in their eyes, as they considered what a tragic loss the literary and comedy world had just suffered.
Fortunately, I’m generally managing to keep the laptop away from any of the driving controls, although there have been a few near misses on the occasion that Michael coughs or sneezes, causing the precariously perched laptop to fly to the side and towards Sean. I hope you appreciate the kind of sacrifices I make for you with this project. These half-hearted, cobbled together semi-jokes about donkeys and backsides are being generated under life threatening conditions, so think on that before you judge.
We may have managed to stay alive, but I feel like death, as I have a massive cold, a really sore throat and a headache. There is no time to rest however and recover because we have been performing all day at Hartlepool Folk festival. After a whole day of events, we are now in the van heading to Burnley. We should arrive in Burnley at 1230. We then have to be up at 8 to start another five days of songwriting with school children.
Even though I’ve been feeling terrible all day, I seem to miraculously improve when it’s time to perform, and I get a massive adrenalin kick while I’m on stage, meaning that the pain completely disappears. This is very useful, but it means my body punishes me big time after each performance, and I am now feeling really shit. Fortunately the thought of spending a week in the company of hundreds of small children shouting “bum” and “poo” in my face is cheering me up no end, and is obviously a great medicinal tonic. Bloody hell, the thought is almost making me consider angling my laptop to the right slightly and bringing on the sweet release of death. Tune in tomorrow to find out what happens.