After delving into the archives this morning, I've finally found what I've been looking for: my blogging notes from the 21st of April. As I was writing these notes, the intention was to come onto blog.co.uk on the following day, and write them up - but that never transpired. I can't remember why, and quite a lot of things have happened since then, that I will record after writing this up.
As of now, I only have 12 minutes in which to do this (because it's now 13:18 and there's a programme on the radio at 13:30 that I want to listen to) so I will look at this as a kind of writing race, and won't bother with any proofreading or editing: I'll just write it out, exactly as it appears in the original manuscript.
Mmm, that's delicious.
Well, congratulate me - I've actually had a day that's worth recording in diary format. The day itself wasn't particularly noteworthy - it had the obligatory 24 hours in it, and the sun appeared to rise towards morning time, and set in the evening; it was what I did in this special day, this 21st of April 2006, that made it so great. In fact, more than I at first realised happened today.
08.35
BBC Radio 3 began it's morning broadcast in my room - no, sorry! it was Radio 4 today because Daniel Barenboim was due to delivery his third Reith Lecture at 09:00 on R4 - thus I awoke. At 08:35, that is. And then I endured a bit of John Humphreys & Co. before Sue Lawley introduced the Meistro, Daniel Barenboim.
10.19
Rang Ad about today's arrangements.
10.28
Before jumping in the bath, I bade Jess a good morning, and asked her if she'd like to use the bathroom before I get in t'bath.
10.45
Jumped in bath.
11.20
Quutted the bath and got myself dried. (I had been to the toilet and brushed my teeth before ringing Ad for the first time.)
11.28
Went to the toilet a second time and then went downstairs, put the PC on to check for train times, and got myself a bowl of cereal while the PC sprang (is it possible to spring slowly?) into action.
11.36 (I might be exagerating for comic effect)
PC finished springing, and I settled down to find train times:
Hazel Grove to Manchester Piccadilly (outward journey)
Departing: 14.41
Arriving: 15.05Manchester Piccadilly to Hazel Grove (homeward journey)
Departing: 22.53
Arriving: 23.17
Remember those times.
11.45
Phoned Ad to confirm arrangements and gave him the above information. Ad being Ad, he already knew about that 14.41 train from Hazel Grove. But that return train at 22.53 (bearing in mind that's the last train home) he didn't know too much about.
After getting off the phone from Ad, I decided to check the old e-mails and then get off the damn computer, intending to have a relaxing time and have a nice, leisurely (and substantial, considering the circumstances) lunch, before leaving the house at about 13.30 to give me time to get to Brookside Garden Centre to deliver a letter from my friend, Marta (the same as previously mentioned) and then get to the railway station in good time to get on the 14.41 train.
13.30 (A bit of delving around Blog World will furnish you with the reasons)
I was still sat at my computer - maybe two friends richer, but certainly much poorer in time than I was comfortable with. Alt+F4 on Mozilla Firefox - didn't have the time to hang about, waiting for the program to close completely so I could Alt+F4 on the Desktop and then press Enter - then hurtled into the kitchen and flung a couple of potato cakes into the grill. This was to be my substantial lunch with soup for starter, but I hadn't managed my time well enough and had to get a move on.
13.35
Having gobbled up my potato cake with cheese on top, I proceeded to hurtle around my house, gathering all the necessary items (viz. books, tickets for Calexico concealed in the pages of Stephen Fry's Paperweight - with that book being accompanied by a new arrival, Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynn Truss, and the aforementioned letter requesting three weeks of employment, from Marta. Ah! The camera! In that went. I had been sweating profusely for some time now, so I ran to my room, washed the old pits out, applied some deodorant (unusual for me - since I prefer to go au naturelle, and if I end up stinking, then so be it (but I never end up stinking - not usually) - but I thought it would be needed, what with the amount of walking ahead of me, etc.). Then I dashed downstairs, Alt+F4 and Entered the PC, bade Jess farewell, headed out of the front door, noticed some post on the porch floor, picked it up, called back up to Jewss, informing her of her parcel, bade her farewell again, shut the front door behind me, and dashed out of the house by the porch door at about 13.45. Not before donning my coat and trainers.
13.55
Arrived at Brookside and entered the main place, where I presumed letters could be delivered.
14.00
After waiting for five precious minutes while a wonderful couple from Barbados were deliberating whether or not to buy some plant seeds that (in England) would have to be planted immediately if it were to flower, but which the advisor who was serving them didn't know when they should be planted in the climate of Barbados, I presented the letter on the counter and announced that I was simply delivering it for a friend.
14.05
I was walking back past the end of m raod, with an anticipated 30 minute walk to get to the station.
14.20
I arrived at the station in an unbelievable 15 minutes (following a lady who was travelling at great speed and with sacks full of stamina must have helped no end) asked the gentleman for a Rail Ranger, please, after perusing the timetable boards outside, asked him which platform I need to be on for the 14.41 to Manchester Piccadilly, and then followed his directions over the bridge to the far platform, and awaited my train.
14.28
It seemed to arrive at about this time, but I didn't think it was the one I wanted. I had planned on enquiring of the man sitting next to me on the bench when it came to 14.35 by the station clock if he knew if this was the 14.41 to Manchester, but before that time came, he stood up, the gentleman in the station office announced my train over the tanoy, I entered the train, and we left soon after.
15.01 (I presume)
Arrived in Piccadilly and met up with Ad.
Here, I can't recall exact times, so I'll just write what happed in chronological order.
Got on that Free Bus, hoping to go the Chinatown and Forsyths. Bus was a bit confusing; arrived at a particular stop and Forsyths right where we were, asked Ad if he wouldn't mind dismounting with me, he asssured me he wouldn't, the doors closed, and we'd missed the stop. Next plan: stop off at this stop and then walk over to Chinatown. Got off at the stop, found a map, forgot about Chinatown, then decided to walk on and have a look in the Town Hall. We came across the Central Library, went in and had a look at a book of Chopin's Polonaises, and a couple of biographical books about Chopin. Left the library and then headed off along Oxford Road, to try find the the Manchester Academy 1, where we were to hear Calexico play at 19:30. The Town Hall was forgotten.
Stopped off at the Manchester Museum on the way to the Academy 1, after asking a kind lad where the Academy 1 was, watched a green Basilisk eat two Dragonfly-type creatures then carried on up the raod to the Manchester Academy 1.
16.45
Headed back from the venue to Piccadilly, intending to potter about a bit before going to the Food Hall at 17.30 for something to eat.
17.15
Arrived back at Piccadilly (at Central Library to be precise) and discovered that it's a half hour journey to the MA1. Then we planned to go to Waterstones and Forsyths, quickly, before grabbing a bite at that noshery at 17:30.
17.30
Were still trying to find either Waterstones or Forsyths.
17.40
I think we found Waterstones at about this time. We had a look around, temporarily lost each other, until Ad's person appeared between a couple of book cases. Then I dragged him back to this book I'd spotted in the Art section, about Pianos and listening to how Pianists play (or something like that) to ascertain the price. It was Ģ8.99. Pretty extortionate, I thought, although it promised to be a good book.
17.45
We then went to find Forsyths, but before giving up hope I asked a gentleman, who appeared to be Italian or Mexican, where the place was, and he was very helpful and pointed out the traffic lights that were just up the road a bit, on the opposite side of the road, and asked me if I could see the word 'Forsyths' that was written on the building to the right of these lights. I thanked him very much, and we proceeded to the place. It was shut. I couldn't ascertain any opening hours, so we looked at the stuff in window, I pointed out the very book of Ravel's Piano Music that I thought I would like, then we went to eat.
17.51
Arrived at the noshery, I decided I fancied a pizza, Ad (disgusting and unbelievable as it is) went for a McDonalds.
18.00
We were at table together. Me with my Margherita Pizza (cheese 'n Tomato for us regular people), fries (which aren't very nice at Pizza Hut), and a pallatable enough cup of Pepsi Max in front of me - all for Ģ3.99. Ad with his Chicken McWhatsit, fries, and a Fanta. All seemed to be perfectly alright for Ad, the lucky bastard. Apart from the fries, which didn't have enough salt on.
18.35
After spending a leisurly half hour or so on my meal, and Ad spending about 15 minutes sitting patiently, and about 5 or so minutes away from table, at the guy's restroom (betraying my allegiance there), I produced the camera from my bag as he returned, took a quick snap, and then we left table, I nipped into the bogs, and we set off for the wonderful Manchester Academy 1.
18.45
Passed the Central Library, 30 minutes till we reach our destination.
19.15
Arrive as expected, and find an unexpectedly long queue of people leading from the place we were after.
19.30
There's movement, I follow the hips of the girl in front, we approach a first steward who asks to see (but not rip) our tickets, we arrive at the two main guys - a guy and a girl - who are to rip our tickets, and we are soon in the blessed venue.
It's very dark as we make our way to the stage. There are just a row or two of people in front of us. As it's still empty and there's lots of space to move, I get Ad to take a photograph of me with the stage as a background, then I take one of the stage myself, holding the camera way up, so I didn't get anybody's hair-do's in. Then we deliberate over whether to put our bags into storage or not - decided in favour - so we then head over to the little lighted room and I learn that it's Ģ1.50 to store a bag and Ģ2.50 for a coat. The nice gentleman who told me this information advised us to put our coats in our bags, that way getting a better than 2 for 1 offer. Which we did. Not without Ad asking me if I've got a quid, me ending up with my bag (half open) in storage, and my wallet in my hand, and having to ask the storage girl is she could put my wallet in my bag, which she did, and brought the bag back, asking me to close it, which she stored Ad's firmly closed bag.
Then we headed back to our places near the stage. I realised that my Pepsi Max was ready to get out, so I bounded over to the Storage Advice Guy to ask him where the toilets are, and then headed off in the direced direction and did my business. Then returned to Ad, who seemed to have moved slightly left and back, so we were now more central but less close. But it could just have been the ebb and flow of the first few rows playing optical illusions with mine eyes.
20.00
On came the guy with the beared from Iron & Wine. Very, very good. First song was with Calexio's Pedal-Steel player.
21.20
After a few songs with Calexico and Iron & Wine playing together, Joey Burns announced a five minute break. During which we waited patiently.
21.25 (It must have been, since Joey said it would be)
Joey came back on stage to introduce a very mysterious personage from Mexico, called Salvador Duran. He played three songs, all on his own, and brought the place down. He was very appreciative and grateful for the well-deserved applause and cheering.
21.40
I suppose it must have been around this time that Calexico came on to play their own beautiful music.
22.53
All of the musicians who had appeared and performed finished their encore at this time. We went to get our bags, I said goodbye to the Storage Advice Man, and we left the place.
23.17
We arrived at Oxford Street Station at about this time and discovered that Ad's train for Manchester Airport will be at the station at 23:23. Another train, going to Macc, but stopping at Stockport would be thre 10 minutes later. I decided to get on the train with Ad, get off at Piccadilly, and then get the 23.36 to Macc from there. Which I did.
23.51
Arrived at Stockport Station, left the station and went and seated myself at the bus stop. A number ' 92' bus came, I boarded and asked the nice lady if it was really a '192'. She confirmed, and I asked for a ticket to Hazel Grove, which cost me Ģ1.50.
It must only have been about 00.07 when I hopped off the bus at Carpet World, after saying thank you very much to the nice lady bus driver. And then at
00.18
I arrived home and sat down to writing this at 00:27.
Goodnight.
It's now 03.15. Blimey! I'd better finish my Orange & Passion Fruit JēO before going to bed, in time to get up early for the rehearsal at St. Beades with Fr. Dearman and Tom at 10:30.
03.19
That's it - pretty much word for word (there were a couple of things with which I couldn't cope without editing). And it took me much longer than the 12 minutes I was hoping for. It's 14.25, so I've spent an hour and seven minutes on this, and missed the programme I was looking forward to hearing. Ah, the things I do for you lot, eh?
Hmm...
