After spending much of the weekend hiding from the world with a nasty cold, we ventured out tonight rather than waste the theatre tickets we bought over a year ago and promptly forgot all about. If the theatre hadn’t sent an email reminder yesterday, there would have been two empty seats in row C this evening.
Hiding from the world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, in case you were wondering. If you’re not feeling great, and then shut yourself in the house with somebody else that’s not feeling great either, there’s a temptation (at least for the other person it seems) to berate you for anything and everything.
It doesn’t help that I really don’t like negativity. I’ve written in the past about the temptation to ignore disasters and look at the next thing, and the next.
Anyway.
After surviving an entire weekend of slings and arrows, this evening we snuck off to the theatre together to see Jack Dee.
If you’re not from the UK, or you’re younger than thirty, you’re probably wondering who Jack Dee is.
Jack Dee is a stand-up comedian - only he really doesn’t tell jokes as such - he complains about things. Endlessly. Now, given that I’ve just said I don’t like negativity, you’re probably wondering why I might be able to withstand a couple of hours barrage of his misgivings and misadventures.
There’s a difference between complained at, and being witness to somebody complaining to nobody in particular. A huge difference. And my word were his complaints relatable. My face hurt from laughter as he descended further and further into a rant laden monologue about anything and everything.
By the time we left, we both agreed that laughter really is the best medicine.
After a few days of feeling pretty rotten and driving each other up the wall, we wandered out of the theatre with toothy grins and endless recollections about this bit, or that bit, or the other.
Of course that all came to a screeching halt after climbing to the sixth floor of the multi-storey car-park filled with every other audience member, who seemed to be suffering from a collective case of “you’re not pushing out in front of me - I’ll die on the sixth storey of the car park rather than lose out on moving my car ten feet further forward before you do”…
Honestly - how do these people function in a normal world? When I used to ride a bicycle to work I became de-sensitised to it - I guess in the intervening period I’ve forgotten just what colossal assholes people can be.
Deep breaths.