Friday 20 November 2015

Fifty five – London for less than a tenner

‘I’m not going to go to anything that’s energetic’ said Mary.

‘If it’s something sporty then we’ll have to ‘bank’ it, and then go visit the group when we've got whatever stuff we need’.

My friend Mary, who was tagging along to one of my ‘randoms’, wasn’t impressed. The situation was ‘getting real’ and I was starting to worry about how the dynamics of having a guest along for the randomness ride might change things: I was used to rushing about and throwing myself into situations. I didn’t want Mary to feel uncomfortable but I then reminded myself feeling uncomfortable was the whole point.

‘Okay, are you ready?’

‘Yes! I’m ready!’

I touched the ‘calendar’ button and the ‘all groups’ calendar started to load. It was half past seven in the evening. We would go to the first event at eight o’clock. The early afternoon events came up. I scrolled down; there were loads of events that started at seven o’clock. Then it was half past. The phone paused to reload more data. I looked up.

‘What is it?’ asked Mary, impatiently.

‘It’s still loading…’ I went back to staring intently at the screen, willing it to yield its secrets. ‘Yes! That’s it! Let me… Okay, we’re going to New Cross; a comedy night in the Amersham Arms!’ I had never been to a comedy night in New Cross before, and neither had Mary.

‘Okay, how do we get there?’

‘Let me ask Google... Google says we catch the Northern from Camden Town, and then a train from London Bridge. Let’s go!’ I was aware that we were pushing it in terms of time.

‘Awesome!’ exclaimed Mary. Mary loved comedy. In fact Mary was a part time open mic comic. The irony that I was taking comic Mary to see a night of joke telling wasn’t one that had escaped me.

When were at London Bridge train station, I joined the Meetup group and looked for more information. I had vaguely heard of The Amersham Arms before, and I had a hunch that it was close to New Cross train station.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at the station and could see the sign of the pub. After a mad dash to find a cash point, we dived into the pub, and entered a huge performance area. It was packed. The MC was warming up the crowd. She was a comic that I recognised from TV panel shows. I walked to the table where tickets were sold.

‘Good to see you, Chris! Thanks for coming down!’ said the man at the table. It took me a few moments to realise that I had met him before, but I had no idea what his name was. ‘Ah, don’t worry’ he said, when he saw me getting out my wallet. He stamped my hand, and then Mary’s. We were in. For free.

I looked around. There were around two hundred people. Every single seat was taken. There was a high stage, lights, huge speakers and a booth for the lighting and sound engineers. All walls were painted black. It was part way between a ‘room in a pub with a mic’ and a proper theatre. When the MC had finished chatting to the audience she introduced the opener: an affable and friendly Irish comedian who clearly took the ridiculous seriously.

‘This is ace!’ said Mary, smiling, handing me a pint. ‘Randomness! Love it!’

In the first of two intervals I spoke with the man on the desk about the Meetup group. I needed to meet the organiser. I asked a few people at the bar whether they knew anything about him and his group but no one knew what I was talking about. Mary had made a couple of ‘smoking friends’. I asked them too: they hadn’t heard of the group either.

There were two comics on in the second act, both doing twenty minute sets. The first one was a tall chap who said that his face suggested that he worked with computers (he didn’t). The second one had routines about why people who drink ‘ale’ were pretentious idiots and why eating a pear, on the street, at three o’clock in the morning was a little bit weird (he had a point).

In the second interval, I decided to have a pint of ale, and continued to wander around to try to meet the Meetup host, despite not knowing what he looked like.

‘Hello! I recognise you!’ I had found someone standing close to the front of the stage who I had met before, in the South East London meetup group.

‘I recognise you too! But I can’t remember your name!’ It soon turned out that it was Sally; the same Sally who had been to Tommi’s Kitchen in Deptford. Sally introduced me to Terry (or Tez), the group organiser.

The headliner was a TV comic who had also appeared on panel shows. He talked about satnav systems on planes, going to school in Cornwall, and people who have posh names.

After the gig a group of Meetup people coalesced at the front of the pub. I chatted to Simon from Blackburn, who worked in IT. There was Ashaf who was a drummer and percussionist, and James, who worked as a mental health carer. Everyone lived in roughly the same part of London.

Tez's group has been going for three years and it had over four and a half thousand members. After a split from his girlfriend, he has recently been starting to run more events. These included visits to theatres, tours of galleries, and music events. The group, it turned out, was a regular visitor to the Amersham Arms. Tez was a great host: friendly, approachable and clearly an extrovert.

I looked at my watch: it was way past eleven. We needed to go. Mary had to get back to North London, and we didn’t know whether she had missed the last train to Highbury and Islington. Mary power walked to New Cross station, and I jumped on a bus to Lewisham.

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