Sorry not to have posted for a while, but I got a last minute flight to somewhere in Eastern Europe (still not sure where) for 50p on Sleazyjet and headed off for a summer break. I’ll give you a full lowdown on the holiday once I’ve sufficiently recovered, but suffice to say my luck did not improve with the change of scenery. An example of this is what happened to me at the airport when I got back. There was the usual rugby scrum for the baggage carousel and I was all prepared to wait another hour for my Royal National Theatre holdall (a throwback to 1986 when I understudied all the comedians in ‘Comedians’ and never got on) to be last on the merry-go-round. Much to my surprise though, my bag was first out! This is it, I thought to myself, my luck is finally changing. Stick with it Harrison and good fortune is sure to come. ‘Coming through!’ I announced in my clearest projection and scooped up the bag with all the finesse of a certificate holding contemporary dance student (second class), only to watch in horror as the ageing zip finally gave way sending a plume of soiled undies, jazz mags and stolen shower caps into the air. Needless to say, I was last to leave the carousel, after my personals had been round and round and round for all to see. The kindly janitor asked me to turn out the lights as I left. I wonder if Judith Charmers ever felt this way?
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