Last weekend of the holidays gone.
Mate and I attended a Seriously Strange conference in Manchester on Saturday. Essentially a series of lectures on everything from people who think they’re werewolves and vampires; a talk about haunted Chester, and alternative approaches to how people deal with bereavement. There was also a showing of the new Borley Rectory (boily rectum) film.
We met a man who claimed to have been a friend of Reece Shearsmith of the League of Gentlemen. He told a tale of rescuing him from a hotel room with a missing door handle. He said if we tweeted Reece to say we were with him then we’d get backstage. We did. But funnily enough got no reply. Possibly because said guy may have been a Number One Fan. Annie Wilkes style or like that chap on Alan Partridge.
So that was weird.
Also, accidentally wearing matching Shirley Ghostman quote tee shirts to the convention and then realizing at lunch that you were strolling down Canal Street in them.
Mate covered hers up while I brazened it out (but quickened my step) for fear that the locals might think we were some kind of ‘Pray the Gay Away’, religious zealots and push us into the canal.
We ducked out of the conference early to get across Manc to our hotel so we could get changed and get a bite to eat before meeting my Fam at the arena for the ‘League of Gentlemen Live’. Cue me flapping over pal’s salad not arriving in time as I worried we’d be late to meet my Pops and I’d be excluded from the circle of trust – like on ‘Meet the Fockers’.
As it goes we all arrived at the same time. Been what seems a long time waiting for this show. I bought the tickets for the fam for Christmas and birthdays. It didn’t disappoint. My cheeks ached from laughing from start to finish. And we seemed to be sitting 2 seats away from Paul Young of ‘Wherever I lay my hat’ fame. You decide from this google pic Vs our surreptitious snapshot, taken while pretending to take a pic of my sister.
We were also inches away from a resurrected Pauline as she ran down the aisle high fiving people whilst shouting “MORNING JOBSEEKERS!”. We are also all now wives of Papa Lazarou because we raised our left hands in the air (this forms a legally binding nuptial contract apparently).
Great night all round.
The next day we sought salvation in Manchester Cathedral following the bee trail and hoping to see the spectre of the supposed ‘fanny’ who haunts the knave. Because who doesn’t want a haunted fanny right?
We happened across a photo shoot and like the mature 40something-year-olds we are, kept trying to photobomb the pictures by lurking in the background and walking past. I saw the photographer deleting quite a few snaps on his camera. I suspect that they may have looked a bit like this.
On the way home we went to look at Strangeways (as you do) and got a bit overexcited when we saw the visitor’s centre – shouting “GIFT SHOP!” and immediately seeking to park the car. But it quickly dawned on us that it was where the prison visitors have to check in and stuff their phones up their arse and hide ketamine in their hair etc and not somewhere we could stock up on HMP bookmarks and tea towels for Christmas gifts.
And now it’s time to return to work this week but not as we know it.
No policy reading, break time duty, value chanting, behaviour pyramid building, time out chair negotiating for me. (No decent wages, pension or sickness pay either – but hey ho!)
Alles Clar. It’ll be reet. Arbeit macht frei and all that.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.