By not paying her.

Odd day. I felt on a massive downer for most of it, and I’m not sure why. Hormones maybe? Do men get moods based on hormones? Probably. I met Tracy for lunch, and was a bit quiet. She mentioned it, and I said that nothing was wrong. Nothing was, really, nothing specific anyway. Nothing I could put my finger on.

In the afternoon, I checked out Ben’s wedding website. I’ve not been invited. Until now, I’d thought that was because the wedding was a long way off. Turns out I was wrong, it’s in four weeks. Guess I’m not on the list. So it goes. Lewis called as I was trying to find a present for Emma. He told me not to worry about the wedding invite. I wasn’t worried, just surprised. We talked about how strange it is that Ben’s getting married in the church that held my friend Sam’s funeral back in 2000. It’s a beautiful place.



I wasn’t looking forward to birthday drinks at Emma’s, mostly because of my foul mood. A quick solo pint loosened me up, I hoped, and I trudged around the corner. Misty made me laugh. He’s such a decent bloke. Lorraine, back from Australia, barely said a word to me all evening. I wasn’t asking her many questions either. So it goes.

I felt a bit teary in the cab. Hormones? Yes, I think so.

Oh mercy

Emma broke her ankle at Glastonbury, so – being the dutiful friend – I went round to make her dinner, then push her wheelchair up to the Knott to meet Tracy and Andy. The evening went really well, until the very end, when she decided that she didn’t want to bump out of the pub and down the step in the chair, and that she’d stand out of the chair, pivot on one foot, hop out of the door and then get back into the chair. After three pints of cider. Bad idea. She slipped and landed on it. Owww!

Her tears turned into whimpers as I pushed her home, and she started to get really upset.

“They were all laughing at me. Nobody knows how hard it is to be in this chair.”

That wasn’t how I saw things, but I bit my lip. She went on.

“It’s not funny. I bet they wouldn’t find it so funny if it was them.”

I partly saw her point – having a broken ankle sucks – and partly thought she was making a meal out of it. A three course meal. And as she complained more, my tolerance lessened. Still I bit my lip. Luckily, if you’re pushing a wheelchair, your passenger can’t see your face.

I put her to bed, washed up, and left. All the way home I felt pissed off at her for being such a pain.

Once I got back, I felt pissed off at myself for being so merciless.

“This is John Tracy, in Thunderbird Five…”

A phone call at half ten on Saturday morning: Emma Jennings, says caller ID. A gruff man’s voice says hello. That’s not Emma.

“I’ve called because you’re the last person on the call register. I’ve found Emma’s phone. And her purse. And her handbag. All of her stuff.”

“Wow,” I thought, “this guy could have robbed all of her stuff, but he didn’t. How lucky is Emma?”

He was also staying in the camper vans section, so I said I’d try to ring Tracy and get the stuff back to Emma. I thanked him, and got to work. I couldn’t get through to Tracy, so I called Dem and asked Dem to try to get hold of Emma’s dad’s number – he tried to do this by calling Kelly, who didn’t have it – and we tried to get hold of Emma’s boyfriend’s number too. Pulling all the strings from Manchester, I felt like John Tracy in Thunderbird Five.

Tracy texted: “Emma’s gone to get her stuff now. She’s broken her ankle.”

A broken ankle means spending the next two days holed up in the camper van, and not seeing any bands at all. What a shit Glastonbury story.

UPDATE: It gets worse. Emma gave her fella the flick for not looking after her properly. Shit the bed.

She called to find out if Michael Jackson was really dead.

After the stress of preparing for my exam, my late-ish night on Wednesday and my early start to get to Bolton for my teeth, I was zonked after work. I left at three forty, and dashed home to get ready for a real celebration – dinner with Pippa. It was a beautiful day, so I got into my cargo shorts and walked down the river, my old running route. I’ve not been out since the Wythenshawe Five, and before long I was aching to get my Nikes on and get out again. Soon.

On Burton Road I passed a beautiful girl putting on roller skates. Our eyes met, and I couldn’t help but smile. She said “Hi.” I said “Hi,” back.

Pippa and I met in the garden of the Woodstock and had a couple of pints of cider in the sunshine. She was very excited about her holiday, full of enthusiasm for camping cookers and sleeping bags. It was a whole year of Bruce, we realised. I’ve never seen her happier. We talked about the proposed (imposed?) Moss Side move with work, and I felt a lot better for her positive approach.

“I’ll buy us dinner out, if you like,” she said. Jackpot!

We went to Greens on Lapwing Lane – no anti-cargo short prejudices there – and luckily managed to get a table for two. We started with vegetarian black pudding, which was peppery, and really tasty. What was it made of, I wondered, if not from blood. Pippa had mushroom gnocchi, and I had this awesome Moroccan pumpkin and leek stew with savoury scones, it was divine. I’m so glad that Pippa and Bruce are moving to Chorlton, I don’t see enough of her.

Pip’s house is vast. The style is a bit Brookside, but it’s huge. It’s a shame she lives with a wanker, she says. We watched a bit of telly, and fiddled around with her mp3 player. Later on Emma Jennings called

“Hi Em, how are you? How’s Glastonbury?”
“Is Michael Jackson dead?”

NTS Fancy Dress

Christmas party

Our work Christmas party was at the Printworks, a scum pit of the worst kind. We had some fun with the freebies that came inside our Christmas crackers.








My boss Josie dancing with Martin.


I met this charming young lady outside.

Well, actually she wasn't particularly charming, nor especially young. But she was certainly outside.

I managed to stick it out until about 11.30pm. Then, with a happy spring in my step, I left. I rang Tracy on the way home, who said I should come round to Emma’s and play Wii with them, which I did. Rayman, Wii Sports, Mario Kart. Bliss! I slept on Emma's sofa.

Emma has moved into a lovely new flat in the city centre, opposite Guardi’s. I went round for Chilli con Carne, very tasty. The flat is beautiful, even if it’s a funny shape. It made me want to live in the middle of a city one day. Not yet, but one day.