Letters related to this weekend

Dear Brett and Jemaine a.k.a. Flight of the Conchords,

Thank you so much for touring again and coming to the UK. Especially for coming to Manchester on Saturday night. The gig was absolutely brilliant and well worth all the tears and trauma I went through to get tickets.

I would really like to thank you for playing at the Apollo which meant the gig was seated. I don’t know if you know but I recently hurt my ankle quite badly and although I am now up and moving about, there’s no way it would have lasted a whole night standing up.

You played a great mix of songs from the first and second series – you even played Carol Brown which is definitely one of my favourites. And thank you so much for playing us 3 or 4 new songs, I didn’t think you’d have more material because you said you weren’t going to do a 3rd Series, but you did and they were brilliant, especially because I’ve listened to your albums so many times that I know the songs inside out and back to front. Do you think that you could possibly consider releasing To Woo a Lady? It was freakin’ hilarious.

And can I just say that you dealt with all the hecklers really well. I don’t even understand why there were hecklers, it seems bizarre to me that you’d pay at least £30 to go and see something and then shout rude things at the people on-stage but I guess people are weird. I hope it didn’t give you a bad impression of Manchester or the UK.

Could you also pass this letter on to Eugene Mirman? I wanted to say thank you to him as well, I’ve never been to a gig that opened with a comedian before and he was really funny. And I felt bad for him because people were heckling him too and although he handled it well and came back at them, I think it threw him for a bit at the beginning. They were retards, I knew straight away that he was the landlord from the show.

And you had the best merchandise ever. I nearly bought 2 t-shirts because I just couldn’t decide but luckily the coffers were only stretched to one. I’m going to try not to wear it to death.

Ok well I guess I’ve said all I’ve got to say. Thank you again, it was really great and I hope I get to see you again one day because you were so so funny.

Could you maybe just think a little bit about doing a 3rd season? Or a one-off special at least?

Thanks so much,
The Girl.


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Dear lastminute.com,

I have only used you twice but you’ve come up with the goods both times baby. First you gave me the City Warehouse Apartments for when my friends from America came over and we had a reunion in Manchester and this time you sent us to the Macdonald Hotel and Spa. Super fancy dancy and yet only cost us £100 for the night.

(Yes actually kind of expensive but slap bang in the city centre and it was actually last minute and anyway the Travelodge in the town centre was £135. Oh. And the boyfriend was paying.)

Seriously I walked in and was all jaw dropped and speechless and kept making little noises that were kind of excitable. So fancy!


And we all know that the mark of a fancy hotel room is the bathroom and Hello! Did this come up with the goods. It was the size of a small flat. The bath was like an ark! The shower cubicle was the size of my kitchen! There was a speaker in there so you could hear what was on the TV in the room (which admittedly was a little frightening when I was having a wee and suddenly Hollyoaks came blaring at me).

Keep coming up with the goods lastminute.com I’m your new fan.

Thank you
The Girl

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Dear Ankle,

I get that I was silly. I get that I should not have worn those shoes (even if they are beautiful) and drunk that much alcohol. I know that I should grow up and act more appropriately. I really feel like I’ve learned my lesson so do you think you could, you know,

STOP HURTING PLEASE?!

I know that it’s only been a week and the Doctor at A&E told me it would be 6 weeks until I was fully functional. But I don’t think that you realise just how impatient I am. I can only be ill for a few days at a time and then I get really bored and fed up with it and consequently kind of become a pain.

I do appreciate that you have healed enough for me walk on you and I would like to especially thank you for holding out on the walk to work this morning – GO YOU! Actually that is quite impressive that I can walk on you already, maybe I have super-awesome healing powers....

But anyway, you still hurt when I try and go up and down stairs which has been kind of embarrassing and more than a little inconvenient seeing as I live in an old building which doesn’t have a lift.

And I would like to apologise for standing on you for nearly an hour on Saturday when we were waiting for the doors at the Apollo to open on Saturday. I have learned my lesson, 6.30pm is when the doors open, not when the act begins, and there are no pubs to go and have a drink in near the Apollo (well, none that would allow you to leave with your life. Seriously, pretty skanky area of Mancehester). And even though I was freaking out about someone accidentally kicking my ankle at the gig, it didn’t happen did it? So that’s good.

And I swear by the end of tonight I’ll be back on the painkillers. It’s just that I’m giving blood this evening and they have so many rules about not being able to donate that I thought I had better lay off them for the weekend. I realise now that you’re not ready to be un-medicated.

So thank you for holding up all weekend (kind of) and I promise that I’ll treat you better in the future, if you could maybe get better a bit quicker than 6 weeks I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks,
The Girl

Back together again.

A trip to England by The Americans would never have been complete without a trip back to Manchester. How could we not, it’s where we first met!

When The Americans announced they were coming over, the crazily anal part of my brain kicked in to gear. I would ORGANISE them. There would be an itinerary. I would sort it all out.

And thus the Manchester Reunion was born.

We all lived together in graduate accommodation in Manchester and to be honest I think we all lucked out – we were all (fairly) normal and all got along and, most importantly, are all still in contact now. And though we are now spread around the UK I figured we could get everyone together for a bit of a knees up.

I was a little bit worried though. You know what it’s like when you haven’t seen people for 3 or 4 years – what if it’s painfully awkward? What if they’ve changed in to a complete weirdo? What if there’s just nothing to talk about now that you’re no longer scabby students? Still I was looking forward to it and was very excited that the plan was coming together. Everyone could come. The hotel was booked. Sorted.

And then.

One person couldn’t come because his work was flying him out to America.

Then someone else couldn’t come because...well....we never really figured it out (but were secretly not bothered because this person also happened to be the winner of the Worst Host of the Year award).

Was everything starting to fall apart?

Well no actually.

BUT in my brain. It was. You see the trouble with being a fanatic when it comes to organising and planning things is that when they start to go wrong your brain ceases to function. Or maybe that’s just what happens in my head. “THIS IS GOING TO BE THE WORST TRIP EVER” the brain repeated over and over in my head.

Add to that the fact that everybody was looking to me to tell them what we were going to do – what time were we meeting? Where were we going? What were we wearing? – and I was on course for a full scale meltdown. I didn’t want to be held responsible for the Worst Reunion of 2010 award!

Luckily for me, the people around me are normal human beings who pointed out that I was bordering on becoming a mental person.

I soon realised everything was alright once people had turned up (and you know what? I think the best people came anyway). And once we’d made our way through a bottle of vodka everything was looking much rosier. Funny that. We were ready to hit the town!

Now let me take a break and tell you about the snow in Manchester.

Epic is the word I would use to describe it. And we were there about a week after the skies had done their worst.

Have you ever tried pulling a wheelie suitcase through 14 foot of slushy snow? It’s not easy. (But is a good workout for your arms incidentally)

It wasn’t so much the snow as the ice. Which. Was. Everywhere. Now you’d think that Manchester being a prime shopping location they’d have gritted everything in sight?

Wrong.

They’d gritted up both sides of Market Street but not the middle so you were sorted if you wanted to only visit the shops on the left hand side, but trying to make your way across to the other side was like taking your life in to your own hands. There was no chance you were going to be able to look cool and retain your dignity. The most you could hope for is to not fall over and break something and hobble like some kind of demented hobbly thing.

You know what wouldn’t be a good idea?

Going out in high heels.

I’m not a particularly graceful person at the best of times if I’m being honest with you. Most of the time it’s a miracle that I can stay on my own two feet. So I’m not entirely sure what ran through my head when I decided “Sod it. I’ll take my heels. It’ll be alright.”

I’m not sure what posed more danger - actually walking on the ice and risking a broken ankle or wetting yourself laughing at what you must look like.

We revisited our old haunt The Oxford, the pub opposite the Halls of Residence we lived in and made our way to a very empty Deansgate Locks. I’ve never seen it so empty – bit of snow and everyone just stays indoors – ridiculous!

Fun was had. Alcohol was drunk. And we stumbled back to the hotel to put on Anchorman (the film that would define our time living together) and order about 12 pizzas too many. Thank heavens for late checkouts – we had plenty of time to return to normal on Sunday morning before making our way back to Hull and Lily and Fred and the boyfriend.

Nearly done recounting the tales – just one more post. And it’s a sad one. It’s all about saying goodbye...

Note: I cannot recommend the place we stayed enough. It’s called The City Warehouse Apartment Hotel and is pretty much slap bang in the centre of town. You rent out a whole apartment, the biggest can sleep 6 people – there are 2 double beds and a double bed-settee – all for the sum of £180 per night. A pricey option if there are only a couple of you but with 6 of us that worked out at £30 each which was amazing. There’s a TV and DVD player and stereo, fully equipped kitchen, iron, washing machine, you name it! It was basically like pretending you were a yuppy and living in the fancy pants city pad. If you have a big group and are heading up to Manchester then go there. (I booked through Laterooms.com so I don’t know if that made a difference to the price, but I booked it way in advance – as if a planner like me would leave it to the last minute!)

The Annual Christmas Manchester Trip 2009

This weekend I made my way to a rather soggy Manchester for my annual Christmas pilgrimage. I go to Manchester a fair bit anyway but it is written down (somewhere) that I must go at the end of November/beginning of December to make the most out of the superior shopping experience that the city centre holds.

Many many items were purchased this weekend, some final Christmas presents (hurray for nearly being finished buying everything!) and also some little treats for me. I tend not to buy a lot of clothes and stuff during the year, only when something breaks or wears out do I venture in to the shops. Instead I save it all up and have a mini splurge on my Christmas Manchester Trip.

For example: these little lovelies from Next.

(Tina Teaspoon couldn't help but get her face in the photo)

I have been in love with these shoes for many months now after spotting them in Mum’s catalogue and then seeing them paraded in all their glory on the TV adverts. And now they are mine, ALL MINE. I hope they’re kind to me. Sometimes the prettiest shoes aren’t always the nicest to your feet. These will be getting their first outing on Friday so keep your fingers crossed!

And what do you know? A book fell in to my hands. But before you yell “But you’re banned from buying books!”, (as I’m sure you will, being devoted readers and having read this post) let me tell you that this doesn’t count. I had to buy Christmas presents you see and thanks to Waterstones’ 3 for 2 offer, this little fella didn’t cost me a penny so he’s allowed. OK?!

The annual Christmas Manchester Trip is not complete without a wander to Paperchase to get my Christmas wrapping paper. The visit this year was even more exciting because I get to have my very first Christmas tree this year (cue lots of clapping and jumping up and down).

Paperchase do the most fabulous Christmas decorations – full of colour and glitter and always bordering on the “Oh my god this is so ugly and tacky but I LOVE it!” side of things.

I went for these bad boys in the end.

Saturday night was spent with a good friend having good food, drinking wine and watching Strictly Come Dancing.

And naturally I couldn’t forget to mention the Christmas Market. Manchester has the best Christmas Market I’ve ever seen. And yes I might be just a little bit biased seeing as she is my favourite city and I love her. But it’s certainly the biggest I’ve ever seen. Some people think it’s confined to outside the City Hall BUT IT ISN’T! The stalls snake their way through the whole centre of town and can be found in St Ann’s Square and outside Harvey Nichols and Selfridges too.

These stalls are beyond wonderful and I have to whizz through them, rather than taking my time because I can’t afford all the things I would like and it would only end up with me crying.

I got a few more Christmas tree decorations. I’m not entirely sure what this tree is going to look like – I’m hoping it’ll be a lovely blend of traditional and quirky and won’t come off looking like a complete mess.

My little trip definitely got me in the Christmas mood, you see I know that once the annual Manchester Christmas Trip has been completed, and the wrapping paper purchased, then it’s only a hop, skip and a jump to the festive season proper.

And a little mug of Gluhwein always helps.

Thanksgiving 2005

Today is Thanksgiving in America. And I would like to share a little story about the one and only Thanksgiving I have experienced which took place in Manchester on November 24th 2005.

I was back at university as a postgraduate, living back in Halls with lots of other people and we decided that we would celebrate Thanksgiving even though we were in England because we had 2 Americans in our midst.

(And also who needs an excuse to drink and eat copious amounts?!)

We looked to The Americans to show us the way. “Tell us. Tell us what we should do?” So The Americans showed us how to make Hand Turkeys and we got paints and drew round our hands and cut them out and stuck them all over the walls.

The Americans were a little nervous about cooking a Thanksgiving dinner on their own for the first times. And in a fairly grotty kitchen at that. But I assured them it would be fine.

“It’s basically a Christmas dinner which is basically a Sunday dinner and I can definitely do those.” I said. “I will help you”

The night before Thanksgiving I got my gladrags on and went out for a ‘few drinks’. In my experience if you utter the words “I’m just going out for a few drinks, it’s not a big night or anything” then you are guaranteed it’s going to be a big night out.

Turns out it was a big night out mainly down to two factors: 1. I was the only girl and 2. We realised that at midnight we could officially celebrate the beginning of 24 hour licensing (Has anybody else noticed that that has never really made a difference? Anyway...) so should stay out at least until then.

The night culminated in a toast to 24 hour licensing and me falling down a flight of stairs in the bar as we were leaving.

The next morning I awoke in agony. And surrounded by peas which, in a moment of sobriety, my friend had got out in an attempt to fix my foot.

It hadn’t worked. I was in agony. “This is it.” I thought to myself. “My first broken bone at the age of 22. Mum is not going to be impressed when she finds out what I’ve done.”

Luckily for me we lived pretty much opposite the Manchester Royal Infirmary and so began the long hobbly journey over there, stopping off at Subway to keep the hangover at bay.

Turned out it wasn’t broken. The doctor didn’t understand how but said that it was probably because I was so drunk I’d have been fairly relaxed when I fell. (I sensed she wasn’t massively impressed with me.)

“But I still can’t walk, you must give me crutches.”

“No, no crutches for you. That will merely encourage you to walk and you must rest your foot. I will give you these magic pills called Codeine. They will help you.”

So I popped a couple of pills and went home to rest my foot.

Let me tell you something. Prescription strength codeine? STRONG. Very very strong. So strong that I was completely off my face. The room was spinning, all I could do was lie there with my foot up and laugh.

But I was determined to help The Americans with the Thanksgiving preparations so I went to the kitchen.

And stood there and laughed.

Basically I was no help at all.

The rest of the day is incredibly hazy. I gradually regained my senses towards the end of the day and went through to the kitchen to see if I could help The Americans. They were carving the turkey and suddenly pulled out a plastic bag from the cavity.

“You know I’m not convinced we should have kept this in” said American Number 1.

“Oh my god! They’re the giblets, you should have taken that out before you put it in the oven.” I laughed.

Cue looks from The Americans which basically said “If you weren’t an idiot you could have helped us you moron instead of standing there laughing.”

(They weren’t impressed with me either.)

The meal was lovely, no-one died from plastic bag poisoning, and I still retain the memories of the sweet potato pie with marshmallows. So much so that I’m going to be making it tonight.

I may have missed some aspects of Thanksgiving 2005 so at this point I invite one of The Americans who reads this blog to please add any details I may have missed in the comments below this post.

So what am I thankful for?

I am thankful for being taught how to make hand turkeys.

And I am thankful for meeting The Americans and for all the fun and games we had together.

And I am thankful that I only have to wait 33 days for even MORE fun and games together.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

My city

I don't know what it is about Manchester that makes me love it so much. Maybe everyone feels this way about the city they went to university to. Is it Piccadilly Gardens? Is it the plethora of shops? Is it the humongous Waterstones on Deansgate? Is it the trams? Is it walking round Harvey Nichols and laughing at how expensive some of the clothes are? Is it the random cafes and delis that you stumble upon when wandering down the back streets? Is it Rusholme and its mile of curry houses? Is it the random mix of poeple that live/visit the town centre? Is it the memories of the 4 amazing years I spent there?

It's probably a mix of everything but whatever it is it keeps me coming back and wanting more.

I would love to live there and hopefully one day I'll achieve my aims and find myself tramping its streets. Until then I'll make sure that my remaining friends never leave so that I can keep coming coming back for more.

I'd been a good girl and saved my pennies for our trip to see Coldplay. I can't go to Manchester and not buy myself a little treat can I?!

I picked up this gorgeous little clutch bag, made from leather from a stall near Piccadilly Gardens. I took a ridiculously long time deciding which bag to buy, much to the exasperation of the boyfriend who stood by, silently begging me to just pick one and have done with it. I love it - especially as I know I'm unlikely to run in to anyone in Hull with the same bag.

No trip to Manchester is complete without a visit to the Waterstones on Deansgate. I have a self-imposed book ban, owing to the 40 or 50 books that line my bookshelves still watiing to be read but I'm allowed to buy on special occasions. And if a trip to Manchester to see Coldplay isn't a special occasion then I don't know what is.

I've been eyeing up this book for ages but haven't allowed myself to buy it because it's in hardback and I don't really need it. But it looks so beautiful that I had to buy it really. I promise I'll read it next...
Another thing I love about Manchester? PAPERCHASE. If you're obsessed with stationary like me then this is your mecca. I got a funky little notebook - it is much needed - sometimes I get bored at work and when that happens and my mind wanders, blog topics come to me and I need to scribble down my ideas. (Does anyone else do that?!) So this little notebook is offiically my new blog book.
I'm hoping to get the time to go back to Manchester in October/November for my annual pre-Christmas shopping trip. The lights add something magical to the normal exhilarating experience and I know that Paperchase will be on hand to provide me with fun wrapping paper and quirky Christmas decorations.

And this time I will find someone to go on the Manchester eye with me...

Viva la Vida

When I was in 6th form I heard about this band called Coldplay (I'm sure they were around before then but I was a little late to cotton on to these things). I got the album, Parachutes, stuck it on my CD player and didn't take it off for what felt like a year.

I was pretty sure that every song on that album had been written for me. I could apply every lyric to events that were happening in my life. At the time there was a boy that I was in love with, but he had absolutely no idea, he was just a friend. As soon as I heard Shiver I nearly fell on the floor - Chris Martin knew what I was going through! He'd taken all of my feelings and written them into a song.

The love affair began.

It has carried on through the years, through three more albums and countless boyfriends. And every time I met someone or fell in love, or fell out of love, the boys were there, singing beside me.

I've been desperate to see them for years but never got the chance - I was too late, or busy that weekend or didn't have enough money, it was like something was conspiring against me. However a few months ago my chance came one day as I was mooching through Ticketmaster. Coldplay were playing in Manchester, in September and there were tickets available!

I've been very excited about it for weeks and was even more excited and intrigued when I found out who the support act was. The one and only, Jay-Z.

Yeah I did a double take too.

Probably the most unlikely support act for Coldplay. And I did spend a good few weeks wondering whether there was another Jay-Z that I hadn't heard of, maybe an indie band? But no. And I didn't believe it until I saw him with my own eyes...

It was so funny. If the crowd at Oasis could be described in one word it would be - 'drunk'. If the crowd at Take That could be described in one word it would be - 'girls'. If the crowd at Coldplay could be described in one word it would be - 'white, middle-class couples' (yeah I know that's not one word but you get my drift right?)

There was a fair age range as well from people with young children (and no I don't think it's appropriate to have children that young in that environment but each to their own) to people in ther mid-20s to 30s, like me and the boyfriend, to people well into their 50s. It was this latter group that was the most amusing to watch when Jay-Z came on to perform his set. I've never seen so many confused looking people in my life.

He got the crowd going though and that's what you need from a support act. I should say at this point that there was another support act, White Lies, but I can't tell you about them because truth be told I wasn't really listening - sorry guys. But they did seem to be pretty good!

When Coldplay came on though....

I don't even think I have the words. But I'll try, otherwise it really would have been a waste of time posting this.

Have you ever heard 50 or 60,000 people all singing Coldplay songs at the same time? I have. It's beyond thrilling. It will give you shiver upon shiver down your spine and make your hairs stand on end. It was amazing.

And I guess in a way that's all I can say. It wasn't a great spectacle like Take That, there were no mechanical elephants. Although there were big yellow balloon/balls thrown into the crowd (guess what song that was for) and some fireworks and about 1o million paper butterflies that were blown over us, but all of this was secondary to the most important part.

For that night was all about the music.

They are CD perfect. There wasn't a note out of place, they are supreme musicians. At one point I got completely confused because the drummer was playing a guitar and someone else was banging a drum. Chris Martin was on a piano one minute, running about the stage the next. It was just brilliant.

And they were on for an incredibly impressive 2.5 hours, with the pace never dropping for a moment. Even more impressive when you consider that this tour began in June 2008 and has had 150-something dates.

When it was all over, even the insanely long wait for a tram home couldn't dampen my spirits (ok. maybe it did a little but it did take nearly an hour) because I'd finally fulfilled one of my dreams. And the 17 year old girl that first fell in love with their songs was finally satisfied.

When we were watching them the section of the crowd that I was in kept singing the riff from Viva la Vida over and over again. Any gap between the songs and we'd all start up. What that must have felt like to them I don't know. What a strange feeling to have that many people singing your songs and your words and your music back to you. I hope they realised how much we appreciated them.

I've gabbled for too long. I will go now. But don't think I've forgotten. I still have to tell you about Florence & the Machine. But you'll have to wait another day for that one.