These might be the days of the gig economy, but I’ve been doing one every Tuesday for 27 years.
My particular white van (for US readers the delivery drivers of such are a British stereotype of the new Amazon order — or lack of it) is a comedy vehicle called “The Cutting Edge.”‘ It’s a live topical stand-up show I created in 1990 and still produce/direct.
Before that I’d been the U.K.’s first-ever, regular comedy critic. In those days I was used to pushing boundaries and landing on my feet. These days I push a walker and am always grateful if I manage to stay on them.
The home of my show is The Comedy Store (no relation to the one in Los Angeles, Calif.) in central London. It’s the leading stand-up venue in the U.K. and considered among the best in the world by many international comics with whom I’ve interviewed/worked/drunk.
I live at the edge of the Greater London area. A crow might get the distance down to eight miles, but my commute was a meandering 12: Walk, bus, tube (underground train) and then a final stroll across Leicester Square (known for film premieres at the famous Odeon cinema).
I don’t exactly know when it happened, but I remember it happening. I was basically at the venue, only 10 yards away when I clattered down. It shook me up, but in those days I could pick myself and go on. I ran the show, then tentatively made my way home.
By this time I was using a cane and driving my car to the tube station, parking was easy as I was a Blue Badge (disabled placard) holder.
But my cowboy days were over. From then on I was a passenger.
We are sorry that this post was not useful for you!
Let us improve this post!
Tell us how we can improve this post?