Mark Olver - Bristol comedian

The Preparation.

Bristol to Weston-Super Mare

I have started thinking seriously about The Walk. For the last few months whenever i have talked about it I have been able to talk about the plans, the maps, the routes and time-tables. I have been focused on the show, which power point effects i will use, and how i would like to record and archive what i am attempting to do. I have even written jokes, in preparation for The Walk itself.

I have done all these things without actually considering whether i can do it or not. Whatever route i choose i can't seem to get it to be less than 100 miles, and no matter how I picture it in my head, i can't bring myself to consider the possibility that i will have to walk up hills. Surely Bristol to Edinburgh will be flat?

So, in preparation, and in another act of procrastination, i avoided thinking about the actuality of it for a few days and went out and bought some stuff.

This is how I seem to cope with issues. If i can't, or don't want to face it head on, and put effort into overcoming a problem, I go into a shop and try and buy something that will do the work for me.

In this case, a 400 mile walk from Bristol to Edinburgh, with performances on the way, staying in accommodation provided out of the kindness of people's hearts, to prepare for a month long Edinburgh festival show, it is very difficult to buy things that will take the strain while I sit on my arse revelling in the glory, but that has not stopped me trying.

• I have bought a brand new pedometer, partly because i broke the previous one, but mainly because the new one is bigger, colourful and has a radio attached.

• I have bought a pair of walking shoes, in the hope that expensive walking shoes have some sort of hidden technology that turns 4 steps in 16.

• I have bought two pairs of walking socks, two different styles, just in case these are needed to make the hidden technology in the shoes work.

• I have bought a pair of walking trousers that can be turned into shorts in case i decide that i want to walk in shorts as opposed to trousers, or vice versa, ir if i am so inclined, to have one leg trouser clad and one leg short clad.

I have thought of everything.

I bought these items from two shops in Bristol, and have even paid extra to sign up for a store card for regular customers. I have never in my life thought i would ever be a regular customer in an outdoor pursuits shop, but i am now a fully fledged member of the Summit Club. Slightly disappointed that all i get is a little credit card sized membership thing, i was hoping for a giant headdress or massive facial tattoo so that i can recognise other members, and more importantly, they can recognise me.

I bought these things on the Wednesday because i my head i knew i was going to walk from Bristol to Weston on the Friday. This seemed like good logic for several reasons.

• It was a dark week for Deal or No Deal (a technical telly term for “we weren't recording”) and so i had the whole day free.

• I was working in Weston that night, and this would be good training to see if i could do a long walk and then do a gig at the end of the day.

• Weston was a good choice because although it was longer than i am planning to walk on The Walk, a lot of the journey will be along a bus route, and if i bottled it i could just jump on the bus home.

Oh, and i also bought an Ordnance survey map so that i could go cross country if i so desired.

I woke up on the Friday morning when Martha was getting ready to go to work. The initial plan was to set off about half ten, and aim to be there for the gig, but seeing that i was up at half eight i thought i might as set off there and then.

I have never felt more unlike me in my life. Dressed in my trou-shorts, special super-duper walking socks, light-weight, waterproof, high-end shoes, and other items of clothing that do not require hyphenating. Pedometer clipped to my elasticated waist and map clutched to my chest.

Martha often says i remind her of a kid who looks like he is about to be picked up to go on some sort of trip, and never has it been more true.

I kissed Martha goodbye, got annoyed that she had not arranged a brass band to play as i stepped out the front door, and set off with all the essentials in my ruck-sack, Guardian, bottled water and Terries Chocolate orange.

Comedians are not very good in the morning. The early mornings i do at Deal has not prepared me for the sight of people walking to work. I flounced past them, their heads bowed as the trundled to work, me with a spring in my step, facing the cold October wind with high hopes because i was having an adventure.

I wanted people to stop me. Was annoyed that people didn't. Could they not see that i was attempting something brilliant. A podgy man walking 25 miles. An unfit man carrying his hopes and dreams and chocolate orange with him across country boundaries.

This was it. This was the beginning of a story. Of a narrative arc that would start with these steps and finish in August having completed something wonderful.

These were not just physical steps. These were spiritual steps. The steps i need to take in my life. And these people passing me had no idea what was happening. No idea that they were watching the start of a march towards my creative, artistic and personal destiny.

It is at that point that i realised i had forgotten my wallet in case i needed to get the bus home and so i had to go back inside my flat.

The Review of Life, the world's favourite review of the mundane and the roast is changing.

The past few months have shown me that i do not have the time/ability/motivation/interest/batterry power/imagination to do a review every day. I think i have run out of different ways to review Sunday Roasts and TV programmes.

This is a reflection less on my writing ability, and my interest in The Review of Life, and more on how i spend my time. One of the benefits of doing this is being able to read back and realise how much time i spend sat on my arse eating sweets.

This must change.

And it has already started to.

My Edinburgh show next year is going to be about my walk from Bristol to Edinburgh. If you are confused as to why you have not heard mention of this walk, it is because i have not done it yet.

I will be 33 next April, and have done quite a bit with my life, but as i sense my tranisition into actually being a grown-up, i realise that i have not achieved anything, have not done anything major or monumental, and am starting to get fatter and fatter.

The walk is my focus to get fitter, and a sympton of my desire to not skulk boringly into middle age until i really need to.

Things need to be done. Maps need to be looked at, routes need to be decided upon, and shoes need to be bought. These are the easy things. The tricky bit is preparing my body for 20 miles wandering a day.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where the Review of Life is evolving. No longer will it be soley about the small and the tasty, but will now reflect the pedestrian.

I have given myself the immediate target of walking 50 kilometres a week, i have bought a little pedometer to help with the counting, and the review will not, as well as my tried and tested descriptions of the tried and the tested, will also include fairly detailed descriptions of my walking.

I bought it last week, and since then have walked 47 kilometres, and 71 146 steps.

There will be regular updates from my travels this week as i strive to hit 50.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and i am toying the titles for this new regime change. The Review of Walk seems obvious but naff, and the Walk of Life, seems far too Dire Straits. Any help gratefully accepted.

The observant among you will notice the severe lack of reviews during August, and the increasing rubbishness of those reviews.

The simple reason for this is that the doing my show for a month removed any possibility of enjoying anything.

I tried to write reviews, especially a regular sunday roast special, but i began to see a pattern in the drafts, and all the reviews kind of read:

"Had this thing, it was alright, now i have to go and do a show or three. I want to sleep"

So, seeing that i am now back, and the spectre of the fringe is behind me for another year, the review can begin agains in earnest, with a slight change that i will explain tomorrow, but before then, press type things from Edinburgh.

This is a review i got from Three Weeks Magazine

edinburgh.threeweeks.co.uk/detail_review.asp

And an interview me, and Al Pitcher, did with The Scotsman newspaper

thescotsman.scotsman.com/topics.cfm

There were a few more bits and peices, but no loads, will put links to them when i find them.

And the review is back tomorrow. Promise.

Saturday

Club Sandwich at The Dome

Really good. The Club Sandwich is a friend of mine and i liked it a lot.

Friday

Joanna Neary

Really good. Joanna is a friend of mine and i liked her show a lot.