Friday, 29 May 2009

Patience destroyed

I sit on the edge,
Moments from the beginning,
I can feel its arrival,
But yet cannot live it.

It’s almost tangible.

Here on the edge,
I ignore what is now,
I look to the future,
I forget the past.

It becomes tangible.

Patience destroyed,
Desire surrounds,
I want the beginning,
And create the end.

From tangible to nothingness,
The beginning is lost to me.

Pointing and shaking

My ex father-in-law made a very humorous comment some months ago. He’d been to a gig with friends (though he may have called it a concert, it’s an age-gap thing). He described the evening with enthusiasm. He has a way of story telling that makes you wish you’d been there. He wonderfully said, and I quote “there were lots of people there, pointing and shaking”. Pointing and shaking?! I repeat - pointing and shaking?! It conjured up this fantastic image of numerous rock fans, waggling their fingers from side to side and shaking their body’s in a random manner. Further explanation highlighted that he was referring to the kind of rhythmic nodding and hand-in-the-air pointing that you see at some gigs. In truth we already knew what he meant but we just couldn’t shake the image of helpless rockers shaking all over without any regard to the music.

As a result, I intend to point and shake my way through 2 Many DJ’s at Manchester Academy. I’m already excited and such is my excitement that I may get some practice in beforehand…….

Point, waggle and shake like you mean it. ;-)

Thursday, 28 May 2009

Rollers and friendship

I had a beautiful message from my close friend today. It’s wonderful to know people that remind you of the important things in life. I read her message and counted my many blessings. We share a crazy sense of humour, one that many people simply don’t understand. I commented to her yesterday, that I sometimes feel we speak in a kind of code – rambling statements that hold timeless meaning for us and few others.

Her message made comment on my ‘There is light’ blog, where I take the ‘painting the town red’ metaphor and extend it. In an earlier message, I’d offered her a special brush so that she could accompany me on my evening of mayhem, she responded “a special brush, I want a fooking roller”. If you find this statement as funny as I did, you’re welcome to join our celebration of crazy.

This is the blog she referred to


Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Romantic mission

Today, I found myself thinking back to a momentous attempt to gain the notice of a beautiful Irish man. He was tall, dark and had the kind of eyes you could get lost in. His appearance coupled with the Irish brogue caused me to make it my mission to spend some quality time in his company. Initial plans went well. He knew my friend so this enabled the conversation to commence. There was mutual flirting. Things took a turn for the downhill when I deemed it necessary to drink many, many drinks. He was drinking too but was either more accomplished than me or else more sensible. I vaguely recall that a group of us went to a party after many pub beverages, though we may have just returned to my friend’s student house. My memory is sketchy on these details. Sadly the vagueness of memory ends there. I recall with surprising clarity that at some latter point in the evening, I had no choice but to stumble towards the bathroom. I wanted to lie down and lie down I did. Upon arrival, I found the bathroom floor moving towards me with a great speed. For some time I lay there, holding onto the floor in a hopeful attempt to stop it from moving. In my minds eye, I can still see the pink carpet and bathroom furniture spinning around my head as if this was a completely normal activity for carpets and bathroom suites. I can only assume that the noise of my collapse or people’s vain attempts to use the toilet caused me to be found in this horizontal position. Much to my absolute delight, I looked up into the beautiful brown eyes of the man I had been trying to attract. He was moving and slightly blurry but it was definitely him. He looked down at me. I looked up at him. Not the kind of eye contact context I’d imagined. He then attempted to pull me into a vertical position (which was the opposite of the position I had wanted him to pull me into). After much fumbling and moaning (and you’ve guessed it, not the type I was hoping for), I was upright, wobbly and clinging onto him for dear life. For some strange reason he found me somewhat less attractive after that event. I just can’t think why…..

By the way - I should point out that I’ve attained some wisdom as the years have passed and now always stop drinking long before I pass out. However I’m still wonderfully skilled at looking ridiculous in front of men to whom I’m attracted. I always make a lasting impression just not always the one intended.

There is light

There is light at the end of the tunnel, admittedly it’s a glimmer, faint and in the far distance but none-the-less there is light. The end of the ‘oh so painful essay’ is drawing nearer. It’s almost an achievement. Worryingly, I have discovered that I have two more essays to hand in on the 2nd June. Initially, I wasn’t worried at all because I thought, oh the 2nd of June, that’s light years away. Then I had a conversation that highlighted to ‘my head in the clouds self’, that the 2nd June is next Tuesday. Next Tuesday, gulp! An objective condition that is unavoidable. Conversations need to occur with my tutors and quickly.

I wonder why I decided to study three courses simultaneously. With the benefit of hindsight, not the best decision I’ve ever made. It’s very difficult to invest sufficient time in all three of them, particularly when time management is practically unknown to me. I can describe its meaning but actually practice it - nope. Less socialising and more studying is what’s required, either that or the Degree takes rather longer than I intended, I focus on fun and say goodbye to Uni until next year. A tempting thought.

I’ve studied for many years now – people often say, have you finished your course now because you’ve been studying for ages (their emphasis tends to be on ‘finished’ and ‘ages’). I think there is a perception out there somewhere (I point my finger vaguely to outline this point) that I keep failing and starting my studies from scratch. I don’t, I’ve finished and passed a number of courses since embarking upon the virtually ludicrous plan of being a part-time, self-funding student. There are qualifications and I have the paperwork in a drawer somewhere.

I began studying back in 1998 (I think) and have been a part-time student ever since. I anticipate a bit of break after this current phase, then probably more courses – maybe something less intense, like pottery or erm Feng Shui. Learning is fun or at least that’s what Universities and the like tell us. Currently, I’m not sure I agree with them. However, it is wonderful to hold knowledge and I believe that the pursuit and receipt of knowledge encourages you to grow as a person, as long as you don’t become conceited and deem those who appear to hold less knowledge to be smaller than you are. We are all learning, one way or another. It’s just that some of us, the slightly crazy ones, decide to hand over their hard-earned cash to assimilate someone else’s knowledge. Deep sigh…..

When I’ve completed all three essay’s, I’m going to have a really long sleep, then go out into the social world and paint the town a kaleidoscope of colours because painting the town red will not encapsulate the extent of the fun I intend to have. When I go out, I suggest you stay in or else be covered in the bright, sparkly and slightly cheeky paint of my mayhem. I’ll be like Jim Carey in The Mask only less green and female. It will take me hours to get ready and Human Traffic moments will be integral.


Monday, 25 May 2009

Grace and out of me

Thought I'd add the 'Grace and out of me' video to my profile. A classic song by Sucioperro. Watch and enjoy.

Just in case it hasnt worked properly the link is



If I pretend my essay is a blog, will it become more fun to write? What are the possible risks of just writing from memory and not researching any course materials? It may lead to a lower marks and quite possibly a fail but it would be over. The wrong attitude to take probably. I've always been a good student but I seem to have lost my study vibe. Lost somewhere in life, fun, friends, socialising, facebook, twitter, bebo, the Sucioperro forum and blogging. I have replaced studying with networking. Maybe I could write an essay on networking. It wouldnt answer the essay question at hand but I could write it all from memory. I've a feeling my tutor would probably notice. Maybe if I stop going to work because that inconveniently prevents me from spending all my time networking, I mean erm studying. Right then essay, watch out because I'm going to wrestle you to your bitter end. Are you ready fingers, start typing. Right then. Onwards.....erm....oh sod it, I could put Bones on instead.

Kaleidoscope angel

I rediscovered 'Kelis' Kaleidoscope' and 'Faith No More's Angel Dust' this weekend. The rediscovery of 'Keleidoscope' was better than the first time. It's a really good album. It caught me by surprise somewhat. I'd put the CD on because I wanted to hear a female vocalist and felt that the track 'Good Stuff' was necessary to improve my mood. Also, I find that music makes housework pass more quickly and pleasantly. It was good a choice and provided the mood enhancement I anticipated. I was particularly taken aback by 'Get along with you', 'Suspended', 'I want your love' and 'No turning back'. How on earth had I let this album gather dust for so long?

Speaking of dust, I focus on 'Angel Dust'. I heard the album by chance late on Saturday night. It brought back some good memories. It was a pleasant surprise because I used to practically pray at the church of 'Faith No More'. I had 'The Real Thing' on tape (yes tape). I bought it again on CD a few years back. An old boyfriend had 'Angel Dust' on tape (yes tape) so I didnt get round to buying it (I was poor so it was more cost effective to listen to his copy). We listened to them in his Fiat Uno, along with 'The Red Hot Chilli Peppers' and 'Metallica'. I'm glad that 'Faith No More' have reformed and will be reintroducing them into my music life on a long-term basis.

Thank you 'Kelis' for your mood altering / housework passing songs and thank you 'Faith No More' for enhancing what was already a very enjoyable Saturday evening.


Sunday, 24 May 2009

There their

I just spotted that I used the wrong 'their' in my Pain Agency blog - put 'there' instead of 'their'. Silly woman. Hopefully nobody noticed.

Moth prophecies

Found a moth swimming leisurely around my glass of water yesterday. Luckily I spotted him just before the water reached my mouth. I was outraged but relieved at my powers of observation. My belief is that if insects, spiders and similiar must occupy the same physical space as you, then should only do so from an alternative dimension. I should have taken the moth incident as a sign, a sign that warns against putting certain liquids into your mouth. See my previous blog for an explanation of this point.

Film therapy

My blood-alchohol levels are out of balance today. I accidently drank far too much last night. Dieting and boozing is not a good mix. I probably should have taken note of the warning on my tablets (which are being taken for vertigo). Apparently they were quite serious and correct to say AVOID ALCOHOL. I really should have done. I had room spin this morning but it was hangover rather than vertigo related. Bad times. Some people, namely me, never learn. Moderation is unfamiliar to me. Excess, on the other hand, is well-known to me. Excess and room spin.

Anyway, Sleepless in seattle is quite an effective hangover cure when taken with water and painkillers. I love that film. I have it on video - actual VHS. Those were the days, when you had to rewind films to find the beginning. The film is all about soul mates, signs, destiny and love. It reminds me that love matters and will somehow get you through life. I cried a little, laughed a lot. I've seen the film many times and find that it has a therapeutic effect. Even if you're an ardent fan of films that you'd expect to find Willis or Van dam in, it's definately worth a watch. If only to admire Meg Ryan or the New York landscape.

Friday, 22 May 2009

Smiles and vibes

Listening to:
Sucioperro's - Pain Agency
Sucioperro's - Don't change what you can't understand
Marmaduke duke's - Rubber lover
Fuzz Townsend's - Far in
Plump DJ's - Plump night out

Breakbeatin, rockin and funkin through the day.

Good times.

Thursday, 21 May 2009


One and all - join Amnesty International and / or take part in campaigns that strive against those that destroy human rights. Don't look the other way, be humankind. xx

The message part two

Those you wanted are returned,
those you didnt know become the substance of your soul,
treading water whilst all around stride on,
then waking up from a half-sleep,
unaware of your dream,
destiny's alarm chimes out,
choices become your own,
waiting ends,
life begins,
suddenly an active participant,
from mindless to elective receiver,
you live the message and it belongs to you.

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

Pain Agency magic

I felt the urge to say more about 'Sucioperro' and specifically 'Pain Agency' – their new and second album. Their first album – 'Random Acts of Intimacy' was outstanding. 'Pain Agency' takes the joy I felt through 'Random Acts of Intimacy', doubles it, then trebles it and just keeps going. Each listen moves me further and further along a scale of joyousness. I have now reached the dizzying heights of joy of such intensity, I sometimes have to stop playing the record just to come back to earth for a while. Is it possible to supplant lyrics and music into your mind – achieving catchy and eloquence simultaneously, yes it is. It’s all on 'Pain Agency', for your eager ears to enjoy. Do you think I exaggerate? Buy the album and you’ll know the answer. Often catchy and eloquence sit in opposition to each other in music, too much of one, takes you away from the other. That opinion on music is so subjective must make it very difficult for writers and composers to achieve the right balance. Yet 'Sucioperro' achieve this balance perfectly.

Onto a detailed discussion of 'Pain Agency', moving through track by track we begin at ‘Liquids’, and what a beginning, a song of musical intensity, at times gentle and at others hard-edged. In many ways it washes over you like a liquid. You feel the music and don’t simply hear it. Then arriving at ‘The Dissident Code’, uplifting and awesome, the song title alone is an achievement. I find myself smiling upon hearing it. Onto the third track, ‘Mums bad punk music’, I’d already played this track many times before buying the album. Somewhere around the midpoint of the track the music changes, I’m told it’s called the drop b section (for those that understand musical terminology). It’s utterly wonderful. At track four, sadly almost halfway through the album, we reach ‘Are you convinced’. An orchestral intro before the vocal begins, bouncing riffs and harmonies that fit together like a musical puzzle. And I am convinced, convinced of the tracks stupendous brilliance. A powerful lyric snippet is: “What we want, what we need, are one in the same thing”. We reach track five ’Don’t change what can’t you understand’, again I’d heard this before the album many times, the message it conveys to me is one of anger at falsities, how some people in life don’t understand something that is authentic – the effort you have made for them was in vain. At track six we arrive at ‘Hate filters’, the guitars and drums roll in as if on the crest of a wave, then the first vocal “do you feel over unsatisfied “, upon hearing the intonation of the voice you feel the opposite of unsatisfied. Never before have I heard a voice sound so damn sexy. The final striking chords on ‘Hate filter’ may leave you feeling nervous but will also blow your mind in the best way. Track seven moves us reluctantly ever nearer to the end, ‘You can’t lose what you don’t have’, lyrically it seems to speak of love lost and found, emotional awakening, finding something unexpected and wonderful. At track eight, we arrive at ‘Conception territory’, notes slide into each other at times and at others bounce of each other. A samba style beat interlude, then the rousing vocal “don’t leave me here, say that you love me”. There is something for everyone in this track. The penultimate track, ‘No 273’, comes from a dark place, it seems to discuss the tragedy of war, placing terrorism and war as one in the same thing, governmental focus on numbers rather than human life. Though poetic meaning sometimes is transmuted by the listener, this is what the song means to me. The final track, ‘I have reached my limit’ and if I had to choose, just pick one track, this would be it. Quite possibly one of the best songs ever written. I find it impossible to describe (which is unlike me because words are usually my friend). I will just say that, to me, this song is so amazing that it transcends definition. Ten tracks are all too few really but each of the ten is pure quality.

Additionally, the B sides on ‘Don’t change what you can’t understand’ and ‘Mums bad punk music’ singles were more than fantastic enough to reach the final album selection, particularly ‘Crush-ed’. Strangely the track ‘Pain Agency’ was not included on the album that shares its name. A mystery that only Sucioperro can solve.

To utilise a quote from ‘The dissident code’, I listen to 'Pain Agency' and it “makes me feel so good, it makes me feel so positive”. Corny though that may sound, it’s fact. 'Sucioperro' as a band, and 'Pain Agency' as an album would probably be inserted into the rock category, yet it transcends category and label – classical at times, funky at others, you may even say that pop makes an appearance. This concludes my thoughts and feelings for now, other than to say this – buy the album, buy the first album, buy the singles and if you need further convincing check 'Sucioperro' out first on You Tube or at

If 'Sucioperro' be the food of love, play on.


Nancy Wallace

A short description of Nancy Wallace’s cover of Elton John’s ‘Are you ready for love’. She strips back this song to something much purer and certainly infinitely better than the original. Her voice has a depth of innocence to it that you don’t often hear. I hear her sing this song and it makes my soul ache. If you think know it, google Nancy Wallace and listen to this version because you haven’t really heard ‘Are you ready for love’ until you’ve done that.

Tuesday, 19 May 2009

Computer frustrations

Most frustrating is the pc and the laptop. My laptop takes longer to warm up than someone preparing for the marathon. Trying to click on a profile on facebook took approximately 5 minutes today. In the end I closed facebook. I find myself thinking - is my laptop, unbeknown to me, involved in some vast supercomputer processing activity - perhaps something really complex like ascertaining the meaning of life. Is this why anything I do takes so bloody long. Whilst I am simply trying to open word, my laptop is communicating with millions of other laptops on the theory of relativity. Or is it simply that Microsoft products were designed to annoy and frustrate you. Certainly they were designed to be just annoying enough to suggest that the bigger, better, latest version of Windows will be the answer to all your processing dreams. Of course when you obtain the new version, you realise that it's actually more annoying that it's predecessor. The layout has changed, things that worked well on the older version have been altered beyond recognition. It becomes your processing nightmare. Deep sigh. I am now going to attempt to access facebook again, this I hope will be a seamless activity. Following on from this, I will attempt to get somewhere close to finishing my essay. Procrastination must end.

Sunday, 17 May 2009


The duke has arrived. Yesterday I received my long-awaited second instalment in the life and times of the duke. For those that don’t know (but you really should) – Marmaduke duke is a partnership between JP Reid from Sucioperro and Simon Neil from Biffy Clyro. Called a side project by some, though I would not classify the duke in this way because to do so almost marginalises the collaborative creative genius of JP and Simon. Marmaduke duke, in my opinion, is not secondary in status to either Sucio or Biffy, it stands in equal worthiness to both. The album is an epic achievement. It has been described as dirty pop, europop and dance – whatever description you choose, each song is outstanding. Pulsating beats, catchy lyrics, riproaring vocals (just invented an adjective there, I think), funky guitars, mesmerising keyboards and so it goes on. As you can probably tell, I’m impressed. It’s always difficult pick favourites and perhaps it’s not necessary to do so but none-the-less Silhouettes, Erotic Robotic, Je suis un Funky Homme and Demon stand out. Rubber lover from the same album has achieved justifiably notable chart success. Furthermore, Silhouettes is permanently imprinted in my mind – I can’t stop singing it. An example beautiful lyric from the song is “with silhouettes in summer showers that shine like you do”. And linked to the lyric, which is probably describing a great person – the word ‘shine’ is a good way to describe Silhouettes because shine it does. Skin the Mofo is as terrifying as it is brilliant. There is something utterly strange about a samba beat combined with the chant “skin the motherfucker alive”. It works though, I’m just not sure why.

I loved the first Marmaduke duke album - The Magnificent Duke, after listening to it many times. I loved Duke Pandemonium after hearing it once. Like your first love and the best one-night stand you’ve ever had, you think of them often – they never truly leave you. Magnificent duke I liken to my first love, after a period effort you realise you’re head over heels and Duke Pandemonium I liken to my best one-night stand, after only moments you’re as high as a kite. Though in terms of listening both will be with me for ever. I would say it’s pure genius but it’s probably more appropriate to say impure genius (if you wonder why, go and buy both albums and you’ll find out!). xx

Wedding vibes

My cousins wedding day was yesterday – there was some sunshine, quite a few tears I’m told (I was a B-lister so missed the tear jerking moments) and for many far too much alcohol. My first wedding in a very long time as a single person. This single-status was known to all my family (bride’s side) and it seemed to some of the groom’s family. By the end of the evening, I think it was also known to random passers-by. It became the source of much focus and amusement for my cousins. Oh joyous joy. At one stage I felt as though I was wearing a banner which stated ‘take this woman, she is the wrong side of 30 and needs male interaction immediately - age, personality, appearance, marital status of male is irrelevant’. I exaggerate slightly but sadly only slightly. My fun-loving, confident and terminally loud (yet lovely) cousin made it his mission to get me off with someone. I felt like I was being pimped. I managed to side-step each attempt. I’m happy being single and am fairly well equipped at securing a man without assistance (ahem, I think).

Moving away from Bridget Jones’ moments – I focus on music again for a while. My musical taste, as I’ve said before, is eclectic but it doesn’t stretch to Boyzone / Westlife, Boyz to Men or other pop earache of similar type. I appreciate though, that others love to singalong a Ronan Keating and that’s fair enough. I was quite pleased to hear Beyonce’s Crazy in love – I was on my own in this, no one else got up to dance so I bravely stayed in my chair and toe-tapped. I don’t recall hearing any other music that caused me to feel inexplicably drawn the dance floor. Although I did dance, it was somewhat against my will, forced and dragged as I was, to and around the dance floor, by various family members. Apparently even a toilet break was out of the question.

The venue for the wedding breakfast and evening fun was Crewe Hall – a beautiful stately building. It somehow feels remote even though it is relatively close to civilisation. It’s a perfect location to get married. Resplendent and grand, it boasts an impressively long, tree-lined driveway. I’m unsure on this but I think the building dates back to the 1600’s (corrections welcomed when I’m wrong). On a more negative note, it offers drinks that you need to put a deposit on before you can take them away and drink them. In other words, a tenner doesn’t provide you with much change for two drinks. Family members were prepared - like cubs and scouts from a demon dimension, they smuggled in supplies. These supplies consisted of vodka and whisky. Soft drinks purchased, spirits added to the glass away from prying eyes. Genius. I was trying to drink less so didn’t follow suit, not an effective plan as it turned out. In that, I still drank more than I meant to and definitely spent more than I should have done.

Onto an interesting phenomenon - the hi-five. Now, I’m not known for my hi-five action, however between the hours of drunk-oclock and drunker-oclock I was drawn into quite a few hi-five moments. The required process for a hi-five consists of: the instigator saying hi-five in the form of a question, raising their hand as you might do if you were to wave at someone, then the recipient (me, in this case) raising their hand to meet the instigators hand and create a clapping motion. All protagonists feel wonderfully pleased with themselves before, during and after. It’s a congratulatory gesture which celebrates successfully securing male attention, drinking lots of alcohol, still standing after midnight following lots of alcohol and basically anything else that the instigator deems to be a job well done. It’s an unusual practice, when you stop to think about it and in fact, I would argue that it’s an unusual practice when you don’t stop to think about it but I involved myself in it anyway. Those that know me well will agree that I’m also not known for my hand-eye coordination, so this coupled with a moderate amount of alcohol turned one hi-five into more of a low-four. Luckily the wedding guest on the other end of my low-four didn’t seem to mind, undeterred we had an action replay, which was infinitely more successful. The low-four and subsequent hi-five was closely followed by that marvellous wedding tradition of standing in a circle, arms wrapped around your neighbour, kicking your legs in time / not in time (delete as appropriate) to Sinatra’s New York, New York. Post-alcohol, I’m always happy to get involved in any kind of random dancing, even if it’s the conga, yet I often find a part of myself, the less drunk part, standing to one side and wondering at the craziness of it all. If alien’s landed – no doubt they’d find many earth customs strange but surely this type of collective drunken dancing would chart near number one in its complete nonsensical pointlessness. Apologies to anyone that doesn’t wonder in this way, it’s the sociologist in me (if you study sociology, to say sociologist in me, is practically a contradiction in terms but anyway). I suppose as a sociologist I might also consider that this type of drunken collective dancing relates to our need for human contact, a desire not to stand alone but to be part of something, a demonstration of unity, a collective of people tied by friendship or familial bonds portraying these bonds to all who stand outside the collective – or you may say that it’s a bunch of piss heads demonstrating that they are in fact very pissed. Anyway, as you may have guessed, if you’ve ever been to a wedding, New York, New York symbolises the end of the evening. So following drunken goodbyes, smiles, kisses and thank yous – I went home with my parents.

I have another wedding to attend in a few weeks. The amount of weddings you attend in a year directly correlates with your age. By the end of May I will have been to two and the so called wedding season has only just begun. Erm, oh dear….

Saturday, 9 May 2009

Manchester mystery tour and sucioperro

Thought Id take a risk and write something when I've had one or two glasses of red. My Manchester mystery tour and second Sucioperro gig of the year happened on Thursday 7th May. First of all, it's important to point out that this gig was one of the best I've ever been to. I was absolutely lost in musical joy. Sucioperro are a band of three that make the noise of many more. Powerful and epic. I was utterly pleased to experience a preceding gig at Liverpool on 1st May but comparatively speaking Manchester roadhouse was astounding. It wasnt just the music, it was the crowd and something about the vibe that made it as near perfect as you'll probably ever get. Two encore tracks were not expected but received with aching smileyness. Raging riffs, screaming but melodic vocals. As I said, joyous. If anyone reads these words and hasnt experienced Sucioperro yet, I urge you to do so - you won't be disappointed. and I’d like to pick a track highlight but it’s impossible to do so. All songs were delivered with precision. Support bands were good – particularly the second one (whose name I cannot remember) – they sounded similar to 65 days of static. On a different note, I drank far too much - met with the unanticipated possibility of pinot grigio at a music venue lead to over-indulgence of the highest achievement. I attended the gig with Mark, a fellow Sucioperro aficionado, as part of an exclusive board meet - exclusive in that there was only Mark and I involved in it! My first experience of a board meet up. I’d certainly do it again.

I stayed in one of Manchester’s top hotels – it previously sat somewhere near number one on Manchester Evening News’ exclusiveness list. Sadly though, they changed the d├ęcor, ambience, staff, added some dirt, broken furniture and re-graded themselves from 5 star to 2 star for my stay. Actually Im being unfair – the hotel was okay (or as we say in Staffordshire – it was oreet). It was very near the Manchester Roadhouse (the venue) and near to the station. Ideal really (from a particular viewpoint). After the gig, Mark and I visited the hotel bar briefly – luckily we were sensible or possibly already too drunk to spend too much money there. Mark went home, I fell into a fitful and dream-filled sleep (after landing in my room, fortunately I was still sober enough not to collapse in the bar).

The next day I awoke, spent some time trying to remove my hangover and create the impression that I was a human being rather than zombie. I checked out and headed into a vaguely sunny Manchester. Decided to make some ethical purchases and was embarrassed to find that my trusty debit card, always so reliable in the past, refused to pay. Red-faced and flustered, I left and attempted to secure money from the cash-machine which was a contradiction on this day because cash was not delivered into my hopeful hand, instead I was met with a server error. A latter phone call with my bank informed me that I was hideously overdrawn (my adjective, not theirs). The luck of the Irish was definitely not with me because I then discovered to my absolute delight (insert sarcasm here) that I didn’t have enough cash to get home! Inefficient planning coupled with an unhealthy desire for spending meant that I spent hours in Manchester waiting for my friend Jase to finish work so that he could take me home. Though I suppose, putting a positive slant on the proceedings you could argue that I was lucky that Jase worked in Manchester because I have no idea how I would have got home otherwise. I left the hotel at 11 am and Jase finished work at 5.20. It was a long and cold day (you can only spend so long sitting in a pub with very little money and only a free paper to keep you company) so I also spent an hour perched on a plastic bench under a bus shelter. For some reason passing drivers found my sitting at a bus shelter very interesting. As if they had never seen a shivering blonde female before. Lots of staring and the occasional peep later I was rescued by Jase. I arrived home to rush around like a women on edge in preparation for a hen party. I went from some of the best music I’ve ever heard to music that I hope I’ll never hear again in the space of a day. It’s an interesting life.

The next time I go to a gig, I will take more cash and check my bank balance before leaving the house. I will also attempt to interject the vodka and wine with some soft drinks. It’s a plan, probably unachievable but definitely a plan. I will now retire to my bed for some much needed sleep (it’s ten to 1am in Staffordshire you know!).

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