Nicki & Barry

Hello there

I hope you’ll forgive a semi-indulgent post today, just so I can get a few sentiments on the record.

I don’t really like the term “fan”.  This is something that has developed over time, rather than a long-held standpoint, but I am at a stage where, whenever I find myself about to say it, I desperately scrabble for an alternate word.  I once interviewed Miles Hunt from The Wonder Stuff (actually twice, but the second time was such a car crash that I don’t like to acknowledge it), where he expressed the sentiment too, and it struck a chord with me. “Supporters” and “Audience” are both words I’ve used, and both are strangely unsatisfying and rather sanitised for what you want to convey when you talk about people who follow, fund, and validate your work.  I’m open to suggestions of course, but “fans” is out of favour.  It seems oddly dismissive as a term.  I’m almost certainly overthinking it, but here we are.

This post is about a couple of supporters though, who would definitely be easily (if lazily) considered fans.  They’ve also very much become pals too. I am going to chuck in the caveat here that – whilst I am tarring them both with the same brush – only one of them has my face (and Dodds’) indelibly adorning their calf. It may well be that the other is being dragged along for the ride, and if that is the case I am deeply sorry for being complicit in that, as well as being sorry for ruining shorts weather forever.

I have been trying to recall when I first met Barry Gwilliam and Nicki Yarnall, and I have concluded that it was on a corner of a street in Birmingham city centre.  It’s plausible that we’d met briefly after a live show or something previously, but this was after a disastrous city centre solo stand-up gig.  I feel like it might have been at Christmas show too.  I don’t recall the gig (other than it being rubbish), but I do recall meeting them.  The show was well over, and we were returning to our cars and got talking. I recall I was just rather desperate to get home when they first said hello, but by the time we got chatting I wasn't bothered about rushing any more.

There’s an adjustment that gets made from this side in those situations.  So, after gigs, it wouldn’t be unusual to have someone start talking to you, based entirely on what they’ve just witnessed on the stage.  These aren’t folks who knew you beforehand, you are as brand new to them as they are to you.  So, it’s a performative bit of interaction really. A sort of “Oh, cheers mate, thanks for coming”, or inwardly rehearsing your gracious reaction to the funny story they are telling you, because a bit of your act made them think of it. I may have made that sound more cynical than it was, it was usually perfectly agreeable.  Then there’s the sort of interaction where they mention something, and you realise that they know more of your work than the show you’ve just done.

For reasons that probably begin and end with ego, these interactions would command your engagement. Existing relationships, you’ve only just become aware of, that you’re grateful for. That’s the residual feeling I have when recalling meeting Nicki and Barry for the first time.

In the years since, I’ve continued to be very grateful – if somewhat overwhelmed – by the support shown from the same quarters.  I don’t recall a lull.  Always supportive of live events, all around the country, always hammering promo on social media (in fact, they run The ParaPod Movie Instagram), and regular kind words on messages and what-have-you. Many is the time myself and Dodds left live shows and I’d be forlornly saying “I barely spoke to Barry and Nicki tonight” because it was busy or rushed, and other times you’d feel glad that you’d managed to get them for a chat.

When we turned up at his ParaPod tattoo sitting, we jokingly said we were worried about setting a precedent. As though us turning up would encourage others to deface themselves because we might wander through the door.  This hasn’t happened, and to my knowledge Barry G remains the only person in the world to have a ParaPod tattoo.  Which is all ok with me, as I tried to talk him out of it anyway, and maintain it is daft, but I’ve had enough chats with both of them to understand the relevance it has with him, and the justification for it.  It’s definitely not my place to be going into details on that here, but I understood it all far more when it was explained to me. I mean, it was already flattering, but when you “get it”, it transcends into rather a lovely thing.

If you heard the brilliant (yes it was) autoharp podcast I did a couple of days ago, you’ll know what this is leading up to.  Come this Saturday, Nicki and Barry are getting all married up, and I was to be attending.  Then came the downturn in health, and it looked like it was more touch-and-go as to whether I’d be able to.  Then came the further downturn in health, peppered with unpredictability as to where and when it would suddenly attack, and the whole thing became an impossible commitment.

Dodds and I discussed this on the phone earlier (he is still thankfully/regrettably able to go), and I expressed my disappointment at it.  I’ve been rather surprised at how disappointed and guilty I feel, especially as a curmudgeon who finds weddings a living hell at the best of times.  On this occasion though, it’s feels like I am really letting them down.  We’ve talked about it, and of course I’ve been reassured (because, don’t forget, their wedding is all about me), but it remains that I’m annoyed that I’ve been taken out of the running by failing health.  It’s possible I’m more annoyed about this than I was about the screenings I had to pull out of.

I do feel well guilty too.  I said on the podcast the other day, that the wedding has been previously rearranged from 2020 (as most things have), but also said the same thing applied to the screenings, and they weren’t absent from those rearranged dates.  All I can say, in my defence, is it’s not a matter of choosing to not go, this has been imposed upon me.

Sadly, they haven’t seemed to consider another rearrangement to cater for the guest of honour, which admittedly does make me question quite how committed a couple of “fans” they are.  It might be that they are so caught up in the final arrangements that they haven’t even realised it is an option, so there could still be a last-minute lifeline thrown to me, but – failing that – I’ll just have to accept that it really isn’t about me.  That rather, it will be a joyous and beautiful day celebrating two souls finding each other in the maelstrom of tedious existence, having a brilliant laugh and committing to that fun for the rest of their days.

Sure, they could have had a bloke with an autoharp there for a bit of extra fun, and run the risk of him putting his hand up half-way through the service to say “I don’t feel very well”, but as it stands they will have to settle for each other.

Quite frankly, they deserve each other.

I am very grateful for them, love them both dearly, and am very sad not to be sharing their day. I shall be raising a glass to their happiness at midday on Saturday.  Only water, because I’m on tablets, but the sentiment shall be as sincere as the unconditional support they’ve given me.

Hope all is well and happy for all a sundry – have a lovely Thursday please.

Much love all round

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx