Nothing especially wonderful. I am late because it was a late shift at work - and wouldn't you know it, with 20 seconds to leaving we got a call that I had to answer. Don't worry, Conrad was as professional as ever, even if he was thinking "Dog Buns!" inside, and after the password re-set matey said " - oh and while you're on the phone - ", but once again Conrad rose to the occasion and the deed was done in a minute. No swearing, no tutting, no comments about how the last minute before close of business is not the best model of doing business.
That Gig Last Night: Part 1
Firstly Conrad checked into his hotel room in Sasha's, a convenient 10 minute walk from the office, and another convenient 10 minutes from Kosmonaut, the venue. Not a bad room for £25, especially since it was a double with en-suite bathroom. Allow me:
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| Conrad's bag - territorial marker |
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| That sign on the wall says "QUIBLA" No, I don't know what it means, either |
Once I left the hotel, I realised I'd no idea how to get to Kosmonaut from there. I had to re-trace my footsteps to Trof and walk from there. Phil, lead gadgetman of The Kites*, actually shook my hand for coming, perhaps in sympathy at me being the oldest person in the venue.
I shan't describe the gig tonight ("hooray!" shout some readers) as I did take notes and it needs a proper write-up, rather than a few lines in passing (deathly silence as those readers who rejoiced are no longer with us). Conrad used to do this all the time as a student for the Polytechnic student paper.
Putting The "Wow" in Gower
Rest your glazzies on this piece of real estate:
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| Didn't they film Torchwood here? |
Of course, today, we here in Manchester have no need to visit the seaside.
It has come to visit us.
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| This photo is from 2009, and the rain hasn't stopped since |
Earlier this week Conrad noticed a blue plaque - which should be more formally written as a Blue Plaque - on the side of a house that the bus drove past.
This is unusual for two reasons - Conrad usually has his nose stuck in a book from start to stop of the bus journey and doesn't notice anything, and he was convinced that Terry Hall was from London.
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| Terry, outside a hall |
| Contemporary Terry, having had the makeup removed by life's harsh scouring sponge |
A bit of research cleared up the trouble. This is the Terry Hall who is so honoured:
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| Er - where is the lion's other paw? |
But - you can see it must have inspired the other Terry Hall musically ...
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| A lion? It looks like a poodle wearing a Davy Crockett hat! |
Conrad has posted before about this most excellent fillum, filled with drama and humour and fast jets and things exploding, based on Tom Wolfe's novel.
Is this relevant? Sort of, as he went about his business this afternoon, humming a tune, which he gradually realised was the theme tune to "The Right Stuff".
I haven't seen the film in an age, not for months and months, so why -
- ah, an idea occurs. Hang on, be right back -
Okay, here's the stack of "Waiting to be seen" DVDs:
Which had been sorted through and inspected for a film to watch earlier this week, and who crops up at third box down:
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| Yay! The Right Stuff! |
* Us afficionadoes can call them that.
** One of that breed of jessies who live in the richer, posher bits of the UK, and it's not true at all that Conrad was assembled out of the test-tube down there
*** I was calling him "Dee", as in "devious", but you can't let him get too high an opinion of himself.
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