Hey-ya!
Well It's now Thursday and I feel sufficiently recovered to tell the tales of Manchester. So read on for the highs and lows, the tears and tantrums, oh and of course the Alcohol...
Glinda and I arrived on Friday afternoon by High Speed (Hmm) electric train to Manchester Piccadilly, although it was that brimming with Queens it should have been called Piccawilly (ho ho ho).
Ma and
Chris then picked us up, we threw madam out at her hotel (The Midland - Very Porsh) and we proceeded back to base at Ma's new house (which is a tres lovely townhouse).
Back into town after we were ready where we descended on
Phils new plush City Centre pad, then out for a 'few' pre big weekend drinks. Well It all went pearshaped poste Haste to say the least. After much Spirit/Essential/Cruz I arrived home at 6am Saturday and crashed out.
Saturday Manchester was graced by the arrival of
HRH Sue Ellen, Empress of the kingdom of Trash. So we minced out into town all high heels and no knickers, with no plan apart from drinking and going for an all we could eat Chinese. Saw
Stevey S (Officially my favorite ex), Sue and me missed FIERCE GIRL on the main stage, despite queueing for ages and being their number one fans so we were gutted (lying security guards!). And eventually settled on...
Poptastic.
For anyone that doesn't know, Pop is one of my fave places. One room cheese, one room indie, and always cheap drinks. Well for the night they had taken over a huge carpark underneath Piccadilly Station, there was a school disco theme, and also a bouncy castle. We all ended up muchos drunk, dancing away to our fave Skool Disko songs.
Later in the night, disaster struck! my FAVE EVER T-shirt fell out of my back pocket when I was dancing. Now I'm not materialistic, but if I was, it'd be over this top. If anyone has one the same that they don't want I'd do anything for one back (and I mean anything). The last known moments of it's existence (before I took it off and it fell out of my pocket or got nicked) are shown below:
Nice ears huh?
Now maybe the drink and drugs helped. But i was in Floods of tears after this and was unconsolable, this is where Phil comes in. My rock and tower - he walked topless in solidarity with me at 4am through Canal Street (where we got offered a 4sum - how rude). We then went back to his and sat on the window ledge drinking and trying to lure men in like Sirens. Unfortunately all we got was some Homophobic abuse from some twat, that'll teach us. Although we did shout back at the man.
Sunday - Well we spent most of the day recovering to be honest. Though we did feel well enough to go out for a sociable few in the afternoon to the lovely Prague V to meet up with Vicki (disgusted by her unglam yellow armband) and Glinda and Steve and co, which was wicked apart from the gay line dancing record going on outside.
In the evening we were boozing even more, (In between Sue and Ma laughing/consoling/laughing over my Tee Shirt story - gits!). I had a moment of epiphany in the Hollywood Showbar (strange place for it huh?) when i was surrounded by all those I loved and realised just how LUCKY I am to have the best people all around me. (I knew it anyway, but that one moment hammered it home - cue more tears). The moral of this story is don't get drunk and enter a strip contest - Pics to follow. I also finally met my friend Nik from who I've been chatting to for ages on T'Internet and walked into randomly (he lives on the rock nowadays)...
Bank Holiday Monday should have been a day of rest and going home - however the fact that we were still drunk from the night before and 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks' was on helped us to remain focused and made me end up asking my boss for an extra day off work. So more booze in Spirit, A random phone call to Malta and then on to Essential. With Pip (Phil, now I'm promoted to his best mate) and Mark, another Aussie of Phils who scarily looks, acts and tarts it about like me. Phil was terrified when we started uttering the same sayings. There were many tears that night between me and a nameless person. All i really remember is dancing to Rachel Stevens, telling some queen (who was bitching about me) that he must have pulled his brain out by accident last time he plucked his eyebrows and suddenly was in the New Union and I was dancing to 'Dead Ringer for love' at 3am while trying to avoid the attentions of one of the managers there - Oops.
Tuesday definitely was a day of rest, so tearfully I bid goodbye to Phil, Steve, Ma and Co. With an agreement to hook up with Mark on Wednesday for a night out in London. And it was back to London to domestic life with Glinda to share tales of random sex and drugs.
Big Hugs and Snogs to everyone that made my weekend perfect. You guys are all the best friends a fella could ever have.
Love Mx
(photos to follow when i get them e-mailed to me)