Sometimes when I'm sitting on my own - on a bus or train, say - scenes and moments from the past float up in front of me. I like it when these are jokes - not set piece jokes, but some moment of repartee, a comeback that worked. It feels like your own diy comedy show where your friends and family appear on the screen of your eye, do their turn and disappear.
Today, somewhere between Reading and Didcot, brown, reedy fields outside, it was Ian Saville, magician and friend. About ten years ago, we were doing a show together at the Shaw Theatre. We were backstage when Ian noticed a sign up with the usual warning: 'If you see anyone acting suspiciously etc etc.' Ian was looking at it just before he went on stage and said, 'But isn't that the point? It's a theatre. It's what we're supposed to be doing, isn't it?'
I sat in the train smiling.
