After a couple of splendid weeks abroad, we resumed the tour in Carlisle. I was all fresh and brown and relaxed; my only concern that I wouldn’t be able to remember my lines. It’s odd to return to a show after such a break: it really feels as if the tour must be over, that it’s surely done and dusted. As it turned out, thIs slight apprehension helped infuse the show with a freshness which is always welcome, and Carlisle was a good gig. The Sands Centre is a multi-purpose hall, and sometimes the atmosphere of a theatre can be sorely missed. But the Sands is a pleasure to play: the audience responses can be heard and enjoyed, which was a huge relief. Those big halls have a habit of sucking up all sounds of enjoyment and can leave the performer feeling like he’s playing to an empty house. So we built the stage, did the show, and packed it all back up again feeling it was well worth it. And, I have to say, Carlisle boasted a particularly attractive audience. The city seems to be Hottie Central. Whodathunkit.

Next, Edinburgh. This city is famous amongst performers for it’s great audiences (though I would expand that in fairness to a list including Bristol and Dublin), and our last stint there a few weeks ago was a real treat. It’s amazing to think that some 12,000 people in total will have come to see it in that city alone. As expected, the crowd was wildly responsive and the Playhouse itself is a delight. I met with the ever-lovely Richard Wiseman and we mooched around the modern art galleries and through the lush, verdant elegance of the rainy city. On our final afternoon I took a cab up to Fishers in Leith, my favourite restaurant in the city, and had their trademark fish soup, which is to die for, and then the most astounding monkfish and prawn skewers, which were to be reborn for, only to die for again even more violently than the first time. The rain not letting up, I had first visited the unfamiliar surround of a camping shop (titter ye not) and secured waterproof trainers, a suitable jacket and a scarfy thing to protect the old throatingtons. Thus, and equipped with a brolly from the hotel, I embarked upon the walk along the Water of Leith back into Edinburgh. As it turned out, the weather improved and the tree-lined walk rendered most of the rain protection redundant, so I carried the umbrella, undid the jacket and arrived rather sweaty and flustered at the end of the hour walk. I considered dumping the umbrella to ease the burden but couldn’t bring myself…

After Edinburgh, I am now at the end of a run in Salford. Wednesday’s audience was perhaps a little quiet, but then again anything after Edinburgh would sound subdued. As the week moved on the crowd has warmed up considerably. Either way, they’ve been great shows and the Lowry is always a tart to visit. We’ve also got to meet up with Andy, our lovely tech genius from the previous tours who works at the theatre. After Thursday’s show we headed out into Chinatown to take Andy to dinner and had a wonderful night. Last night continued the late-night theme with a crew visit to the famous Canal St, where your blogger uncharacteristically shook his booty on the dance floors of some (perfectly reputable) homosexual establishments. Much cross-gender fun was had by all. We think Coops may have briefly kissed a man. I certainly had my arm around a fabulous drag queen DJ at one point. Jen was dancing with the ladeez and Iain and Jonas were twin kings of the dance stages. All in all it was a fun and daft evening, and not the sort of thing I ever find myself doing.

Awoke, not surprisingly, at 12.30 and am all rested and refreshed for the show. If I can just get Erasure out of my head…