It just noticed that when I wrote the word "the", my phone suggested the next word should be "banshee".: Bit odd!
I'm at Stockport train station having a coffee before setting off to glamorous Bognor Regis. It might be lovely but definitely in need of a rebranding, which is highly unlikely in our Pre-brexit, reactionary zeitgeist climate. Seaside resorts always feel eerie and discombobulating in the winter and I find myself recollecting a psychopathic Michael Caine trying to kill Cathy Tyson and Bob Hopkins in Brighton during that great 80s film Mona Lisa. Not the most cheerful of mindsets to have as I'm en route to a music festival but the thought of Gary Numan at Butlins in Bognor Regis during January can have that effect. Good opportunity to rack some bands up for the challenge and can't wait to see Barry Adamson.
The plan is to meet Steve, Frank and Russian Jay at Knutsford before picking up Jules at Keele services and then driving to Bognor in Steve's crappy Audi. The whole journey will undoubtedly be punctuated by morbid thoughts along the lines of 'what the hell am I letting myself in for', before settling down, forgetting dry January and having a good time. Shame Ruth isn't coming but she didn't fancy sharing a Butlins apartment with a load of unhygienic men and who can blame her. No such concerns for Jules who obviously has high tolerance levels.
After a torturously cramped journey we have landed on the alternative universe that is Butlins. Steve has already complained that the car park is too far away from the apartment. Then he complained that the apartment is not swish enough, then he had an argument with some bloke in the car park. The rest of us are taking bets on how long it takes until he is tasered. Some food then start watching the bands.
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