The moment I saw that he was playing in Exeter I was on the phone to my friend.
“Daaaaaaaaaan? You know how much you love me?”
“….What do you want?”
Despite such a reaction, he did agree to book the tickets right away – with Daniel Kitson you cannot wait even a second, otherwise everything will be sold out. This was no different: when we arrived in the Phoenix’s auditorium – a perfectly sized room of around 200 seats – it quickly filled to the gunnels and rang with an excited hum of anticipation which fizzed all the way up my body from my toes.
At some point I had to, that much I knew. The thing is, I’d kind of forgotten how.
Oh yeah. It has begun.
Well in perfect honesty it began a good while ago but most of the work was not being done by me. See, I have Owen, and though living together again (even if it’s only for three weeks) could be interesting, he is much better at dealing with all the actually important stuff than I am, meaning my job basically just consists of giving him money, turning up and saying things into the microphone provided. That is as far as my responsibility should ever go, I think.
So I’ve been writing a lot of sonnets recently. Which is weird because I’m not really a poetry kind of person. At least not in the way that most people think of poetry type people. You know what I mean, they broadly come in three types: