back in that scarborough (finally)
8 hotels, 6 buses, 5 tube journeys, 4 taxis, 3 trains, 2 each plane and luas rides and an innumerable number of pasta-cheese-and-tuna-fish dinners straight out of the pan (courtesy of my trusty electric hotplate, which got up to mischief of its own at John Lennon Airport by impersonating a bomb and forcing me all the way back through security so it could be dug out of the suitcase and investigated) later and I have finally arrived safely back in Scarborough after almost three weeks away – woohoo!
Readers will notice that the number seven is missing from the stats above; in the absence of anything else to attribute to it, I can fairly safely say that it would be the maximum number of functioning brain cells I had remaining upon turning the key in the lock last night, after rounding off the lengthy trip with a 5am start for five hours queuing in Leicester Square to obtain this year’s Frightfest pass and a far better seat than last year, too. I strongly suspect I wasn’t the only person who stayed to catch the free screening of The Conjuring mainly for the chance to sit down for a couple of hours, although I am pleased to report it was Not Bad At All, especially if (like me) you’re fond of a proper haunted house flick.
I followed this by inadvertently getting caught up in London Pride (not the Fuller’s one) as the parade went down Regent Street and intersected my route to Heddon Street, where I had promised myself (and after another visit to David Bowie Is at the V&A followed by a Thai banquet with a gentleman of long acquaintance who gallantly pretended not to notice that I was not only slightly mental, but had practically forgotten how to sit at table and eat with cutlery from a plate like a civilised adult) that I would visit the Ziggy Stardust plaque at number 23 unveiled last year at the site of the original cover photograph to mark the forty years since it was taken in January 1972, when Heddon Street was a Soho back alley rather than somewhere (else) for Strada to punt a bit more overpriced foccacia to unwary tourists. Needless to say, an hour and a half or so later having finally made it I’d had more than enough of being stood on, and spent the next hour first getting as far away as possible before finding a quiet corner for some pie and mash.
Rewind a bit, and almost three weeks of charging round Ireland (including one unexpected last-minute location change and a fairly unpleasant shock when arriving at a recommended ‘four star’ hotel which resembled a Travelodge, as well as an awful lot of daft phone calls, sitting on buses and hanging around Dunnes food halls) has certainly left it’s mark, fun though there was. But more of that another time – the main news of the week is the abject failure of poor old Rhoda Grant to obtain cross-party support for her bill to criminalise Scottish punters and not before time. No doubt the fourth attempt will be along at some stage (and no such good fortune for Ireland, where the [sarcasm]hugely effective and successful[/sarcasm] Swedish Model has just been recommended by Oireachtas) but yet another ample demonstration of what we can all achieve if we dig our heels in a bit and stick up for each other. Scotland’s punters are safe, for now at least, and for anybody who missed Rhoda’s post expressing her disappointment at the knockback before she changed her mind and removed it from her site, here it is.
A brief one then for now as I’m still knackered, but just to remind everybody that the phone is resolutely off and now so am I, more than likely for the while of July prior to my London trip on the 31st. I’m not going anywhere, and emails will be answered as promptly as ever but for now, a little peace and quiet and a lot of proper food, fresh air and very much-missed 6Music beckons.
More soon.
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