Moving from Whalley Range to Catford

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Whalley Range - Urmston - Whalley Range - Urmston - Whalley Range - Catford - Whalley Range. total distance: 429 miles; total driving time, as estimated by Google: 8 hours, 59 mins. Quite a drive to do in 24 hours. Well done Laura. As Tracy would say, "It's a shame you can't drive Dave."

Happy Birthday Tracy

Nice hat!

"My, my, my, what a lovely wall!"

Tracy has moved into a new flat in the Northern Quarter. It’s very swanky, with the whole block converted from a former banking building. There’s one wall that’s just exposed brickwork. The whole flat is kind of open plan, but kind of not – imagine a doorway between the bedroom and dining area, and a double doorway between the dining area and lounge, but without the doors. She made Delia’s spaghetti carbonara recipe, and we had apple pie as dessert. Dinner was lush, and Laura made a great impression on Tracy and Andy.

"Today I didn't even have to use my AK"

Durex gave me a lift to Bolton in the morning - I was off to get my stitches out. Finally! An end to all this root canal rubbish! Lucinda, as always, was brilliant. I'm hoping I don't have to go and see her again - that my teeth won't cause me any more problems - but at the same time I was a little sad at the thought of not seeing her again. So it goes, I suppose.

Back to work, and - luckily - my idiotic transgression from yesterday seems to have borne none of the foul fruit it could have. I must give the impression that I'm expecting a gun rack shipment via eBay. I'm glad it was kicked to the kerb, and that it doesn't looks like there'll be any kind of awkward meetup as a consequence of my error. Phew, what a relief! Case closed!

I bought Persepolis for Tracy at lunchtime - a birthday gift. I called her - and she was just around the corner in town. Brilliant! As I headed round to meet her, I strolled past Vicky and her David. I'd finished on the phone, but I kept it by my ear. Case closed, I'd said, so let's leave it that way. Tracy was very pleased with the book. It was lovely to see her.

I met the casual sex girl from work for Friday pint after work club - just the pair of us, as usual. After a bit of a catch up - we hadn't hung out since she and I had a bit of a to-do about her wanting to date me - her ex showed up. The poor lad is taking their recent break-up pretty badly, and now he's been made redundant. He was only dumped by her a couple of months ago. We left the Lass to hide out from him in Odder. Halfway down our next pint, he showed up there too. Oh dear! So we turned around and scooted into the Thirsty Scholar. He didn't find us. I enjoyed re-acquainting myself with her on entirely non-romantic, non-sexual terms. Win!

On the bus home, I leafed through the new Economist, a Friday pleasure like no other. China's trade in South America, US air-bases in Columbia - all pretty standard (interesting, but dense) Economist fare. The obituary was for Benson, a carp, and was exquisitely written.

PETERBOROUGH, in the English Midlands, is a red-brick town, best known as the midway point on the line between King’s Cross and York. But from the bottom of Kingfisher Lake, just outside it, urban toil seems far away. There, all is most delightful silt and slime. A push of your probing nose sends up puffs and clouds of fine mud through the water. A riff of bubbles rises, silvery, towards the surface. The green reeds quiver, and sunlight ripples down almost to the depths where you are lurking, plump and still.

Nothing I read about Michael Jackson was as eloquent. What a fish, and - oh my! - what a newspaper!

When I got home, Kate was watching TV, but with no real purpose. QI wasn't on, nor was Jonathan Ross. I flicked a bit, and found something about allotments. "Oh wow," said Kate as she came back into the room, "this was the film that I worked on!" It was called Grow Your Own, and I thought it was pretty good. Kate was full of little nuggets about what she'd done during individual scenes. It was like having a director's commentary, only with the costume department. I only wish I'd seen it all.

All in all, I have to say, today was a good day.

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.

NTS Fancy Dress

General Levy says..

Some texts between Tracy and I

Tracy: Why did the lion get lost in the jungle.
Me: If he was in the jungle, he probably was lost. Lions live on the plains.
Tracy: You've just let being a twat get in the way of quite a funny joke. Unlucky dickhead.

30 seconds later

Tracy: I've just looked it up and you were right. You're still a twat though.
Me: What was the punchline?
Tracy: Because the jungle is massive.
Me: That is funny. And if it was a tiger, it'd be accurate too.

The story of my year, in not many words

January: Walking boots, job interview, new phone.
February: Tracy and Kate’s Manchester returns, lots of country walks.
March: The debut of the allotment, Libby and Cardiff.
April: Volunteering, a job offer, a crush on a girl in Waterstone’s.
May: The end of crimefighting, a test match at Old Trafford, a new job.
June: Woody and Clare, the first harvests, meeting Liz.
July: Mostly spent falling in love with Liz.
August: The Green Man, Vicky’s barbecue, Dr Jim’s Bank Holiday visit.
September: Lenny’s birthday, Izzy’s birth and work getting shit.
October: Mark Morriss, breaking up with Liz, ferry across the Mersey
November: The Lever Estate, Fireworks, flat hunting
December: Moving house, an upswing.

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.

Three copies

I woke up cold, again. I tried the shower, to no avail, again. I left it running, and began to fill the sink with hot water. The shower trickled off and died down, so I turned off the tap on the sink. The shower came back on, and it was warm. Yes! I jumped underneath, and enjoyed a full thirty seconds of warm water before it went cold again. No! Were we out of hot water? Maybe? I was glad of the sink full of hot water. Another stand up wash then!

As I walked to Katsouris at lunchtime, I imagined a world in which I was entirely independent, like a tower in the desert. I bought three copies of the same book to give to three different people for Christmas. Including my own copy, that’s four times I’ve bought the book. It’s a gem, and it deserves to climb up the bestseller chart. Even if I have to buy more copies.

After work I met Tracy for some tea at Oklahoma, and a chat. She seems very well, and looks in good health. I gave her the present I'd bought for her, and she explained that the one she'd bought for me was really big. How exciting! Nothing satisfies like a massive present!

I went back to Everett to collect my bike, and loaded up the rucksack with my laptop, the Playstation, and the router. Quite a geeky cargo, I thought. If I get hit by a car, they'll think that I'm on my way to a nerd-herd event. It was pretty tough to balance with all that data processing power on my back, but I made it home without any trouble.

Later I met Dunk and Al in the Trevor, and then went to theirs for some FIFA09 action. Normally I'm a PES man through and through, but I was quite impressed. Not won over, of course, but quite impressed. I know that moving to Chorlton will mean certain changes in my life, but PES will still be king for me, I think. I hope.

North Pole Bar

I met up with Tracy to talk through all of the sturm und drang of the last week, what with the flat situation and my heart's delicacy. I was so pleased to talk to her.

Bleary Monday

After the allotment yesterday, and after two pints with the football, I foolishly slept for a couple of hours in the early evening, and then couldn't get to sleep last night. I remembered that I'd left my trousers at work on Friday, but I was wracked with doubts about their safety? Had I left them in the post office when I went to post the MEN to Robbie? Would I have no trousers for work? It kept me awake.

This morning, it wasn't easy to get out of bed. I had a really fractured day at work, and didn't get going until about 3pm. As soon as I arrived, I was asked questions that I needed to log in to my computer to answer, and I felt as if I didn't catch up all morning. When I went downstairs to see one of the data analysts in the half hour before lunch, she ended up taking a long phone call whilst I waited. When I asked Steve, the proud father who brought his beautiful one-year-old son in to work on Friday, how the baby's first birthday party went, I was still nodding and smiling twenty minutes later. And feeling my workload slip further and further from my grasp... as I grinned on. Lunch couldn't have come too soon.

Tracy has found a new bloke, called Andy, who she seems very into. She's lost a stone, she says. She looked well. We went to the Soup Kitchen and had a goats' cheese tart with a bean-heavy salad, yum! It was brilliant to see her, I'm glad she's working in town again.

On the off-chance, Dunk invited me to see a band playing in the HMV basement, Attack! Attack! (here's their myspace) - and to my weariness was added the feeling of being massively old. Apart from parents, of which there were a few there, and bouncers, of which there were far too many there, I was the oldest person in the room. In my tie, in my work pants, I felt like I was a pervert, sneaking into a kids party. The band were good, but not really my thing.

Kate counted about thirty people there (including parents, but not including staff). It really was as sparsely filled as the picture suggests. But the band played on as if it was Wembley, bless 'em. In one wonderful moment, they invited anybody in the audience that felt like it to join them on stage. Two eager fourteen-year-old girls scurried round, and bopped about on the stage with the band. They'll never forget today, I thought. Not even when they're as old as me.

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.

Tracy Tiger Lunch Lounge

Something bad has happened. The Tiger Lounge has become a classy lunchtime venue. And reasonably priced too. The impact that a few tablecloths can have is amazing. Slow-ish service, but for a fiver, no grumbles.

Perfect mug

Thanks Tracy!

Lucy and the Caterpillar at Cup

Tracy and I met after work. We had a pint in Odd (Kate was working), and then went to Cup to see the Lucy and the Caterpillar's single launch show. Everybody was dead trendy, Woody would have felt like a sore thumb again, I reckon. There were three acts.



Josh Weller had ridiculous hair, but some quite good songs.

Petty Thief was excellent. Some things reminded me of Dylan, or of Badly Drawn Boy. I'd definitely go and see him again. I'm sure - from his accent - that he's from round here.

Lucy and the Caterpillar were oddly disappointing. Musically, her band were more than competent, and Lucy has an amazing voice - Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music in one breath, Regina Spector in another - but there's something about the scope of her songs that lacks ambition. With her talent - not only can she sing and play, but she can really perform (Rachael Kichenside take note!) - she has a lot of potential, but the subjects of her songs - wanting to be a bumblebee; beans on toast; being best friends with a handmade doll - was better suited to a nursery school than to a gig for grown-ups. Structurally, again, they were overly simple - verse, chorus, verse, chorus, "thank you," giggle. Is a middle eight be too much to ask? She was punching far below her weight, in my opinion.

Lucy and the Caterpillar are not amongst my army of loyal readers, but if they were, I'd offer this advice: ditch the milk teeth, and put some snarl and some sexiness into your music - especially your words. Give us something in the words to get us thinking and reacting. The music can stay more or less the same, but there is no need to fear being psychologically sophisticated. The example I'd give of how that might work is the opening line of Venus as a Boy by Bjork.

His wicked sense of humour, suggests exciting sex.

From here on, it's clearly a song by an adult, for adults. If Lucy and the C can make that kind of developmental step too, I'd be very happy. Maybe Lucy needs to get in with a bad crowd? I want to send her If You're Feeling Sinister and The Boy With The Arab Strap and Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like A Peasant to show her that you can be twee and adult simulataneously.

Tracy had some interesting opinions on the draft of the Fun Things To Do For Free project, and its context. I'll have a think about what she said.

“…It’s easy if you try…”

There was an earthquake last night. Tracy texted, and I replied.

T: Did you survive the earthquake?
D: No
T: Shit! Can I have your flat?
D: Sure. Got any messages for the dead? John Lennon?
T: Ask if he feels stupid. “Imagine there’s no heaven.”

Sol's, Corbierre's, Mojo

What a good day! I met Tracy in Solomon’s and we caught up. It was just like the old days, and brilliant to see her. Then I headed off into town with Pip to meet Kate. Pip and I went to Corbierre’s first, busy as ever, and managed to find a seat, excellent. We met Kate, Lisa and Paulina at Mojo. It was absolutely brilliant to see Kate after all this time. I was amazed (and rather impressed) by the energy and sheer joy of her dancing, particularly as the evening drew on. I felt like a rigid statue in comparison!

XKCD and February Third

Tracy comes back from Thailand, Kate comesback from Japan, and Emma too. Nice, isn't it?