Once again I set out from the deep south (Bognor Regis, well Felpham actually, William Blake lived here for a while until he got in a bit of trouble with the local militia). Good to be back in Yorkshire ('am a Dales-man y'know, aye) I drove round that bloody big roundabout 8 times before checking in at the most bizarre hotel I've ever stayed in (Riverside Court).
Went to a crappy Witherspoons (I bet it does) pub to completely miss a prearranged meeting with a bloke I met at the Notts gig. (Sorry Paul).
Next stop a Goth Pub out back of W/spoons then the gig. I do like it when there's no support group, no running order scwabblefest like at Fibbers in 96(?), Pence 11 where are they now?
I won't do another set list list.
I sang till my tits exploded.
Problems in the gents bog?
Who on earth goes to the toilet when HMHB take the stage?
I'll rephrase that.
Who bothers to walk all the way to the toilets when you've wet your pants?
Yes the earth moved, yes it was good for me to.
Back to the hotel, whose eastern european feel was enhanced by the Polish barman, a Glaswegian in a Duka Prague away shirt and the wooden paneling.
The only downside was my girlfriends desire to visit the Meadowhall retail nightmare & Betty's tearooms in Harrogate the following day. Roll on Wolves.