Four Skid Row gigs and a week-long course for work...
OK, logistically, I knew I could spend the next 10 days running into one self-inflicted hell after another. Fortunately, as I drove out of town (six hours later than planned), the optimist in me put in a rare appearance. I put on my sunglasses, wound down the window, turned up the radio and sung loudly as I headed north.
Despite having printed off directions, I missed my turn off the M3. Instead of turning back, I decided the sensible option would be to stay on the same road, head around the M25 and up the M1. Three mind-numbing traffic jams and five long hours later, I finally arrived at the Nottingham Moathouse. Deciding it was too late to anything interesting, I curled up on the bed and watched CSI.
A few weeks back, I’d mentioned my plans for the weekend to Alison, an old school friend who also used to love Skid Row. She hadn’t sounded particularly enthused, so I didn’t push it. It was only when I took my phone from my bag that I saw the text she’d sent. She’d forgotten it was this weekend, and was wondering if it was too late for her to come. She’d sent the text eight hours ago, and by the time I got back to her, she decided it was too late to make a decent weekend of it.
She was missed :-(
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