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I'm A Man You Don't Meet Every Day
Dec. 16th, 2013 06:30 pmTo Manchester yesterday for The Pogues concert (my Christmas present from the parents). Stayed at the Travelodge on Upper Brook Street, pleasant enough if a bit spartan - my room TV had only the five basic channels! By the time I'd finished unpacking, had time to relax and checked my emails and notifications there wasn't time for a main meal in the hotel cafe, so decided I'd better get a bite to eat at the Academy. Famous last words.
Spent twenty minutes or so in the queue, as two men wandered by every now and then trying unsuccessfully to get people to part with a tender for a knock-off T- shirt, hardly moving for much of that time till just after seven we steadily flowed forward and in. Inside came a blow - the only edibles on sale were jumbo boxes of sweets, still a no-no for me at the moment. Settled for a bottle of water and moved on to the massed crowd gathered at the merchandise stall.
As Sally MacLennane is one of my favourite Pogues numbers I had to snap up a T-shirt with some lyrics from the chorus on it. Also I've been wanting a new woolly hat for ages - the Team GB one I got given last Christmas is too small for me - so, seeing capacious black beanie hats with a tasteful 'The Pogues 30 Years' logo on, I couldn't resist one of those.
In the upstairs foyer area a lady came over, clearly delighted to see me, and said hello - it was Pam from Kirstyfest. She led me over to where her husband was standing by the wall and we all had a good chat together, even missing most of the support band's set to talk. We said we'd meet up after the show and went our separate ways to go in.
I was in one of the corners at the front of the circle, at the inner end of the five-seat second row. The lady next to me was quite friendly and chatty, telling me at the interval that she worked seven days a week so she and her husband had had a rush to get there from their Southport base after she finished work. They'd bought their tickets separately from another couple who they'd travelled with, so every so often she scanned the main body of the circle looking for their friends.
Just after nine the lights dimmed and the Pogues came on to deafening applause from all round. Shane's singing is still a bit slurred but he put the songs over superbly. They played all the songs from their iconic album Rum, Sodomy and the Lash in original order, and were magnificent throughout. A group of blokes at the front of the mosh pit, after the opening number The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn, chanted "there's only one Shane MacGowan" and got an acknowledge be from the man himself that I couldn't make out. Camille O'Sullivan came out to sing I'm A Man You Don't Meet Every Day - she was superb. Can't pick favourites as there wasn't a bad performance in the bunch.
They left the stage briefly and came back to play some more old favourites. A poignant moment came when the lads at the front sang "there's only one Philip Chevron" and Shane straight away dedicated Thousands Are Sailing to Phil.
When the Pogues reappeared for their second encore, we all wanted one thing, and the band didn't disappoint. Shane reintroduced Camille O'Sullivan and they gave us a spirited rendition of Fairytale of New York, ending with lots of artificial snow falling onto Shane and Camille as they danced round the stage together. They played one more song - Fiesta - then that was it.
I hung around the upstairs foyer in the hope of seeing Pam but still hadn't spotted her when the stewards moved us on. Couldn't see her among the crowd outside. I was Hank Marvin by now; fortunately I'd seen a take-away on the walk from the hotel to the Academy so called there for some fried chicken, and ate it back at the hotel with the end of MOTD2 on.
This morning after breakfast, getting my stuff together to leave I couldn't find my new Pogues beanie hat anywhere. I turned the whole room over, but in vain. The receptionist said she'd ask the housekeeper to look out for it when she checked the room today but that was no comfort. Worse, the fruitless search meant I missed my train by minutes and had to hang around Manchester Piccadilly station for nearly an hour. I really couldn't face wearing a hat that was too small any more, but I wasn't about to leave the station - it was pissing down outside - and wander the city streets, lugging my heavy hold-all, looking for a shop selling woolly hats. The option of buying one in Milton Keynes on the way home was no more attractive: the shops in MK are a long walk from the station too and anyway I preferred not to delay arriving home even longer. So I shelled out £17 for a black woolly hat of suitable size from American Apparel, the only woollen hat option on the Piccadilly Station concourse. It had been a great gig but my trip was spoiled by ending up with a plain hat instead of the Pogues logo one and taking the £17 hit.
Posted about my misfortune on Facebook on the train and was told by two friends that there were shops selling cheaper woollen hats right outside Piccadilly. Bloody rotate. And I came home to a £294 bill for my car's interim service.
Going down the Heath Inn for a mulled wine and a mince pie.
Spent twenty minutes or so in the queue, as two men wandered by every now and then trying unsuccessfully to get people to part with a tender for a knock-off T- shirt, hardly moving for much of that time till just after seven we steadily flowed forward and in. Inside came a blow - the only edibles on sale were jumbo boxes of sweets, still a no-no for me at the moment. Settled for a bottle of water and moved on to the massed crowd gathered at the merchandise stall.
As Sally MacLennane is one of my favourite Pogues numbers I had to snap up a T-shirt with some lyrics from the chorus on it. Also I've been wanting a new woolly hat for ages - the Team GB one I got given last Christmas is too small for me - so, seeing capacious black beanie hats with a tasteful 'The Pogues 30 Years' logo on, I couldn't resist one of those.
In the upstairs foyer area a lady came over, clearly delighted to see me, and said hello - it was Pam from Kirstyfest. She led me over to where her husband was standing by the wall and we all had a good chat together, even missing most of the support band's set to talk. We said we'd meet up after the show and went our separate ways to go in.
I was in one of the corners at the front of the circle, at the inner end of the five-seat second row. The lady next to me was quite friendly and chatty, telling me at the interval that she worked seven days a week so she and her husband had had a rush to get there from their Southport base after she finished work. They'd bought their tickets separately from another couple who they'd travelled with, so every so often she scanned the main body of the circle looking for their friends.
Just after nine the lights dimmed and the Pogues came on to deafening applause from all round. Shane's singing is still a bit slurred but he put the songs over superbly. They played all the songs from their iconic album Rum, Sodomy and the Lash in original order, and were magnificent throughout. A group of blokes at the front of the mosh pit, after the opening number The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn, chanted "there's only one Shane MacGowan" and got an acknowledge be from the man himself that I couldn't make out. Camille O'Sullivan came out to sing I'm A Man You Don't Meet Every Day - she was superb. Can't pick favourites as there wasn't a bad performance in the bunch.
They left the stage briefly and came back to play some more old favourites. A poignant moment came when the lads at the front sang "there's only one Philip Chevron" and Shane straight away dedicated Thousands Are Sailing to Phil.
When the Pogues reappeared for their second encore, we all wanted one thing, and the band didn't disappoint. Shane reintroduced Camille O'Sullivan and they gave us a spirited rendition of Fairytale of New York, ending with lots of artificial snow falling onto Shane and Camille as they danced round the stage together. They played one more song - Fiesta - then that was it.
I hung around the upstairs foyer in the hope of seeing Pam but still hadn't spotted her when the stewards moved us on. Couldn't see her among the crowd outside. I was Hank Marvin by now; fortunately I'd seen a take-away on the walk from the hotel to the Academy so called there for some fried chicken, and ate it back at the hotel with the end of MOTD2 on.
This morning after breakfast, getting my stuff together to leave I couldn't find my new Pogues beanie hat anywhere. I turned the whole room over, but in vain. The receptionist said she'd ask the housekeeper to look out for it when she checked the room today but that was no comfort. Worse, the fruitless search meant I missed my train by minutes and had to hang around Manchester Piccadilly station for nearly an hour. I really couldn't face wearing a hat that was too small any more, but I wasn't about to leave the station - it was pissing down outside - and wander the city streets, lugging my heavy hold-all, looking for a shop selling woolly hats. The option of buying one in Milton Keynes on the way home was no more attractive: the shops in MK are a long walk from the station too and anyway I preferred not to delay arriving home even longer. So I shelled out £17 for a black woolly hat of suitable size from American Apparel, the only woollen hat option on the Piccadilly Station concourse. It had been a great gig but my trip was spoiled by ending up with a plain hat instead of the Pogues logo one and taking the £17 hit.
Posted about my misfortune on Facebook on the train and was told by two friends that there were shops selling cheaper woollen hats right outside Piccadilly. Bloody rotate. And I came home to a £294 bill for my car's interim service.
Going down the Heath Inn for a mulled wine and a mince pie.
