POINTLESS

I’m back. The eyes are are a wee bit better so I thought I’d better join the fray.

    My agent phoned (!} wanted to know if I’d be interested to appear on Pointless Celebrity 60’s. I was busy in the 60’s. Rushing around, learning lines [unintentional jest], costume fittings, doing tons of crap to keep a roof over our heads. So I was caught up in my stuff to take much notice what was going on around me. So Pointless seemed a waste of time.

    So I had a thought how about Celebrity Antiquity Road Trip. So I suggested that to the  agent [!) They said they’d try. I’ve heard nothing. Waited and waited. Zilch. In the meantime I watched the Road Trips as they rolled out.People I’d never heard of. Tons of them older than me. Amazing. And loads of repeats. Not a sniff or a whisper in the pipeline. I was definably past my sell by date. Oh dear. Depressing.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

    But on the brighter side.  A man called Blue John bought two of my CD’s. In a couple of weeks he bought four more of them. Why? Six! It turn out that he liked it so much that he gave it to some friends, including Bob Fischer, a DJ in Blue Johns area. He also liked it and played tracks on his show. Then out of the blue, he wanted to interview me (live) at a local venue. It was a crazy journey up there.

    Kings Cross Station is confusing. My train was about to leave from platform 0. ( Harry Potter). I just got there on time and found myself in a dining car. I was given a sandwich and a coffee. Which I ate quickly. Then guard came up and looked at my ticket.

“That’ll £25. This is a 1st class carriage.` £25 for a coffee and a sandwich! A good start.

2  and a half hours later I arrived at Gateshead.

    Nice hotel, pleasant bedroom and bathroom but no tissues.There never are are. Why not? Do they want guests walking around with running noses? I phoned Bob and arrange to meet him on 11.00  the Sunday evening show.

    Then I had a wander around the the town. Like a cat peeing on every tree it passed I marked way so I didn’t lose my way back to my hotel. I found a little pub and had a couple of of beers then back to to the hotel for a kip.

    Later I had something to eat and a glass of wine.

    `Do you want another glass.?’

    `No, thank you.`

    `If you do you can have the rest of the bottle free.`

    What an extraordinary place Darlington is.

Slept well and saw Bob the next day. Nice fella. He was going to pick me up at 6.00.

The venue was good. 60 people were coming. The K.O. was 8.00. So I went over to the pub.

The were a nice crowd. Bob interviewed me for about an hour. Then there was a break. Three quarters of hour of questions. Then signing books a giving out photographs. Then he drove me back to the hotel. It was a good evening.  But was I deluding myself?

I it seemed that Bob had paid for the hotel bill. I sent him a text thanking him. He replied, ‘It  

s the least I could do. It was lovely to meet you.’ Hardly effusive.

But what could I expect.? The old ego was popping up again. I’ll put it into a box and chuck off the Brighton Pier I’m sure David Attenborough  wouldn’t complain ‘cos fish with egos wouldn’t eat plastic bags any more they’d be too full of themselves.