Apologies

 You may argue that it’s not my fault. You may say that I’m not responsible for everything that happens in the world but I won’t believe you. I used to be the kind of person that just took every day as it comes and then I got a bit anxious and thought that planning stuff and having a tidy sock drawer would help. We used to love to go to the theatre but were the ultimate ‘last minute dot com’ couple. We hardly ever made plans beyond, “Shall we go to London next Saturday and see what we can get tickets for?’ There was a short period where I couldn’t go anywhere and then we started to book things in advance. We had tickets for Six, Hello Dolly and some comedy. The world was confused. It didn’t seem right. “Here, have a global pandemic complete with unnecessary tautology.” Everything we had booked in advance was cancelled.

Life started to get back to normal and events were rescheduled. Except our comedy event because the venue went bust and closed down and Hello Dolly because it was a limited run. To be on the safe side, I went for a refund for the Six tickets.The Sun had shone consistently and so we purchased an awning to make our outside dining a more pleasurable experience. I really do apologise for that because no one has seen any sun since, except for the two days were it was too hot to leave the house and an awning wasn’t going to help.

Events were planned in our local park. Katherine Jenkins and Tony Hadley (not together) didn’t appeal so they went ahead and were enjoyed by all. We, instead, bought early bird tickets for the comedy festival. They said Frankie Boyle was to be there but we were happy to watch Brad from down the road practise his stand up or Karen, the doctor’s receptionist tell us about the patients that had sworn at her. We paid £28 for two tickets: a bargain.

As the date got closer I noticed that they were promoting the event even harder. The set list started to look like a who’s who of comedy. I had suspicions. The Long Suffering Husband had suspicions. 

“I don’t know,” I said in response, “Maybe they need the work. It’s been a very odd time. Outdoor events might be the guaranteed gigs they need.”

None of the artists were mentioning the gig on their Twitter pages. It was odd. Most had been to Edinburgh and started new tours. 

The LSH raised his suspicions again. I started to worry but said nothing, thinking that all the big names would pull out and we would be in a field watching my daughter’s boyfriend hastily doing a set about the perils of dating in case you ended up with a crazy mother-in-law. 

“It won’t matter. It will just be nice to get out,” he decided. “It was only £28.”

Then, yesterday, the council announced that the festival was cancelled. They claimed that the organisers had repeatedly failed to provide the correct paperwork. Now, I know that our council can be difficult. They can suddenly insist that you need £5 million public liability insurance for 30 children to sing on the prom or demand a first aider in an ambulance is present for a production of Shakespeare by amateurs but this is the first time I’ve ever known anything to be cancelled. Once organisers are committed and people are coming they usually jump through whatever hoops they are given.

The organisers put out a statement that said the event wasn’t cancelled. How dare the council say so. It’s just that they had refused the alcohol licence so they were going somewhere else. This was followed by a vague suggestion of Colchester Road and later a promise that the announcement would be made at 6pm. Obviously, the Colchester Road venue either had to have its own alcohol and entertainment licence or be in a different town with a council who wouldn’t back ours up. I was fairly certain that it would be cancelled. 

Emails started to come through at about 8pm from ticket agents stating that the event had been postponed to a future date and they had given the organisers until early September to set a date. The organisers put a statement on their Facebook page saying that it was an opportunity to make next year’s event huge (bigger than Frankie Boyle, Milton Jones, Shappi Khorsandi, Sara Pascoe and Glenn Wool?) and that as it had been a difficult time for the industry and the artists we should continue to support them.

“Oh,” I told the LSH, “We’ve all been scammed. How could we have been so stupid? Obviously all those big names weren’t going to do a set in our tiny backwater of a salty town. None of them have it listed on their websites.”

He reminded me that it was £28 and we hadn’t cared who we saw but still, there is a sense of shame. I feel sorry for the council, who probably should have done better checks and the local newspapers who are just reporting what is said without any investigation. If they are con artists then they will probably get away with it because of our collective shame of not wanting to be seen as naive country bumpkins, who should have known better.

Again, I would like to apologise, as I think this might be my fault and warn you all that we have got someone coming round to assess us for solar panel suitability. If the world goes dark, you’ll know it was me.