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My body is letting me know that I am very nearly 48 by shutting down and starting to hurt. I was kept awake most of last night not by my baby, unfazed by international travel or being an hour in the future, but by my lower back spasming and hurting like a fucker. I'd move to a position where it didn't hurt, but then when I moved it seemed to have locked and it would hurt even more. I had to visit an odd Dutch Apothecary this afternoon, which was inside a building that looked like a pod with a counter circling the whole store and all the drugs in see-through cupboards. It was like a future chemist dreamt up by Charlie Brooker. She wouldn't even take cash. I had to pay for my Ibuprofen by credit card. But she expertly explained in her second language all the things I had to be careful of with this €1.50 medicine.
Don't listen to the Verve, the drugs do work and I was a lot less uncomfortable for the rest of the day. Though you know, could probably have done without some crazy Dutch ladder stairs to climb up carrying a pram.
I am trying to use my time to write new material, learn old material and enjoy this mini-break with my family. We managed quite a good balance today, especially given the lack of sleep. It turns out that I am not far off remembering the Talking Cock script (hopefully all the ones I've done in the last five years should be easier) and had a good crack at 35 minutes of the first half of it tonight (to a much less apathetic audience). We're also putting the final touches to the Happy Now? programme (it's too late to get your name in, though if you make a £50+donation this weekend we might be able to slip you in). In the afternoon we went to the Van Gogh museum, which was packed with tourists, but still very interesting. My wife felt sorry for Van Gogh dying with no one knowing who he was and then going on to be one of the world's most famous artists. I argued it was better than dying with no one knowing who you are and then everyone forgetting you, but I got her point. He was churning out a painting a day in the last year of his life, making millions of pounds for some as yet unborn bastard and nothing or himself. Personally I prefer the positive and bright ones like the Almond Blossom and the Wheat Fields and yes, the Sunflowers (very much his Man-draw paintings) to the dingier and madder ones, but it's thrilling to see so much of his art in one place and it's undoubtedly brilliant stuff. He had so much art spewing out of him that I suppose it was almost inevitable that it was going to explode for him in the end. How many Van Goghs were there out there whose work was never recognised? Would he have been as successful if he hadn't gone mad, cut off his ear and shot himself (I hadn't realised that he'd done this in a field, not immediately killed himself and then walked back into town to die the next day - none of this is a barrel of laughs).
We walked back to our lofty apartment and stopped for a beer and some food on the way. We sat on the pavement in a quiet square, with the evening sunlight playing softly on our faces. Phoebe, once again, was less interested in engaging with us and much more interested in the Dutch ladies drinking at the next table. She looked at them expectantly as if she hoped that they would invite her over to dine with them rather than her dull parents. Her hopeful smiles were largely missed but occasionally she was rewarded with a smile back. I think she is going to be a terror the minute that she gets the opportunity. But is she's a sociable terror then I will be very happy with that. Her innocence and trust are as yet unbroken. It's so sweet and fragile.
So far this trip has been a Hell of a lot easier, less fractious and more fun than the one to the spa. It raises hopes that life with a family can be relaxing and fun. And this is a brilliant mixture for me: getting to spend my days with the two most brilliant females on earth, before popping round the corner to do my work and then being back in bed in five minutes. Hopefully tomorrow I can work up some material for the new show. I think the audiences here will be patient and kind enough to indulge me.
I also like being abroad because you can wear weird clothes and people just think it's a cultural thing. Check out that crazy T-shirt. The Dutch had no idea that everyone in the UK doesn't dress like that.
