Quite a weekend, that was – an extendible one, apart from anything else, as it spilled over into the surrounding days.
Thursday evening saw us hit the gym hard. Strange things are happening to me as a result of this “working out” business – I have cheekbones again for one thing, although admittedly only faint ones. I think I like it…
From the gym we headed up to my parents' in North Hertfordshire for the night. Both of us spent the day working and then we trekked north, getting stuck in traffic on the M6 at Birmingham and arriving chez
Ah yes. The gig. Last year Jules came down to us and we went to see The Human League in Reading – and when we met the band afterwards she gave Phil Oakey a right bollocking for not playing Manchester that year. Evidently she put the fear of God into him, because this year we were able to make the return trip to see them at the Manchester Apollo. I think I'll do a separate post on the gig, as posting setlists or whatever will break the flow here. Enough for now to say that it was a , followed by a late, hoarse morning.
Most of Saturday, Sunday and Monday were spent visiting family up there – it was, as ever, great to catch up with everyone. Monday lunchtime, however, was devoted to meeting up with
The run home to London on Monday night was uneventful, enlivened (not) by passing my Tuesday workplace exactly 12 hours to the minute before I was due to walk through its door and return to reality.
Which I did today.