Brace yourselves, this might be a long one.
Morning was fine, caught up on a few bits and bobs (like labelling video scenes for the '50 Ways...' live show, checking in with various venues to make sure the shows are still happening - which they are, and quite enthusiastically), had my daily chat to the bloke in the petrol station as all self-employed people do.
Took Mum shopping and a nice lady from the RSPCA praised me for having water for the dog, and then Mum reminisced about Dad for a bit which I found both lovely and upsetting. Promoted tonight's launch of our new comedy night extensively, as I have been doing for the past month. I made it personal today - this is a biggie, personally, for me...I sent over 40 texts to friends explaining that - look, I know I do a lot of shows, but this one means a lot.
And it did. Because Dad died of cancer last year, and I want to make lots of money for Macmillan because they were beyond incredible to us. The concept is simple; we've got some amazing comedians coming down from London to try out their fringe shows, we pay their expenses, the rest goes to charity. People of Cambridge get to see big acts in a tiny venue for a fiver. What's not to love?
Clearly not enough. 3 people turned up - 2 of my mates and a very lost looking stranger. The embarrassment in the room was painful. We decided not to go ahead with the show, I paid the acts their travel expenses out of my own pocket.
I really tried today. I fucking failed - more than normal. I don't mind if it was my own show, to 3 people, I would have done that, but to drag other people into that? It shouldn't be about friends, but tonight I do feel let down - I really stressed to people how much this one meant to me. We were launching something special, for an amazing cause - it should have been amazing. Fuck this - I'm done with this. I'm not trying anymore. This is Paul Richards, giving up. Probably time to leave Cambridge and reinvent myself.
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