An Actual Day Out? (Blog 82)

Yesterday, I went to see a bunch of short comedy plays at the Canal Cafe Theatre in Warwick Avenue, London. But how did I get there? Did I see anything unusual on my travels? And perhaps less importantly (from an avant-garde blogging perspective, that is) what were the plays like? Let’s cover each question in chronological order, perhaps to provide contrast to my crazy day. Who could know how it would turn out? Let's find out!

To start the morning off, I put military level planning into the journey to the Warwick whereabouts. I planned my route using a map of train and tube stations, and to be on the safe side I asked my dad and the guy working at the local terminal if my reading abilities were not mistaken. That part of the day was a success. I learnt that I can indeed read those maps, even if they are excessively complicated with all those crazy different colours for various tracks. After buying the ticket before the staff member ended his shift, I went back to my abode. But did the people I asked mishear me when I checked how to get to my intended destination? It was time to check things over with Google. After about half an hour, I became almost 100% sure I knew what I was going to do, but the internet is notorious for having contradicting information. Tired of all my research and after a bit of comedy writing and such, I decided I would just have to take a risk as I left home, again.

As I arrived at Waterloo, hoping to start the next part of my journey by getting on the Bakerloo tube line, I asked someone at the help desk how to get to place. Deep down I was fearing he would say something like ‘you think the Bakerloo line is HERE? Get the **** out of here.’ To my huge relief, he didn’t say that. He just told me to walk a hundred yards or so. Phew! On the underground train, I noticed that the sound the vehicles make on the rails are particularly harsh. They’re kind of reminiscent of Aztec death whistles. (Check them out on youtube). When I first read about the ‘instruments’, I was thinking, ‘they can't sound that bad, right?’ Then on hearing them I was thinking ‘WOOOAH. WTF is that?? They’re literally going to give me nightmares’. Yeah, that’s what the tube trains sound like.

As I reached Warwick, one of the first things I noticed was a guy wearing black, with huge yellow writing on his shirt saying ’T.W.A.T’. As I was wearing the same colour scheme as him, I tried not to get too close to him. If I did, onlookers could assume that we were together. ‘The twat brothers’. Not something I’d want. But that wasn’t an issue, as part of my walk to the Theatre involved me leaving the ‘excessively modest’ man behind. Incredibly I got to the place in just a few minutes, with the help of my trusty hand drawn map. That was the same amount of time I was informed the mini-hike would take. Due to my mostly poor navigational skills, I allowed myself at least 30 minutes to find my way around.

Because I got to the establishment so early, I treated myself to a burger, cider and later a Belgian chocolate desert. They were tasty, but not THAT tasty for the price. They were more messy than anything. Towards the end of the meals I just gave up on trying to be civilised and pigged out without any style. But the napkins are there for a reason, right? One piece of cloth would be enough in most restaurants, but I was given two, further suggesting that eating like a farmyard animal was to be expected and maybe even desired. Well, desired for whatever reason that would be. Maybe if passers by saw how much the diners were apparently oblivious to everything around them as they pigged, that could suggest the food was great. That’s just a very undeveloped theory I worked on. Forget about it, actually.

So the gig, then! I booked a cheeky place at the back of the room, so I was out of sight of most people. Like a spy. Well, not really as I was facing the performers and they could see me. But I was still more like a secret agent taking a break or on a very weird mission than anyone else there. Yeah, cool. The plays were pretty funny, I always like hearing angry egocentric people going crazy, and there was plenty of that stuff. I frequently displayed my mirth by chuckling in back seated comfort. But the laughter wasn’t the REAL high. It was the journey home. Not only did I get to the station without pestering the locals, I may have even walked the route to it a good few seconds quicker than at first. That may not sound much, so I’ll rephrase what I just said: I may have got there around 20% quicker. Pretty swish. And that’s it! Byeee.