Thursday I awoke to find a warm ray of sun seeping through a small gap in the curtains, lighting up the dust across my room falling on my oven gloves which I had folded in anticipation the night before. I knew it was going to be a special 24 hours. The rest of the day couldn't have gone any slower, waiting and waiting for the inevitable phone call from Wobble to say he was lost on the Huddersfield ring road which came as expected 2 hours after he was supposed to arrive. I bounded down to the car with a spring in my step and we set off to Manchester for tea, specially made for us by Kat, whom also accompanied up to the gig.
After a rather humorous journey to Liverpool, with several jokes made about the pace I walk at, we arrived in Ma E's and met up with Kitty, and pretty much most of the regular fourmist, bar Spoonsy... where were you? Was cool to see Taylo for the first time in ages, and nice to meet OSM and random Paul. Thanks to Nick for the random giving of Cig, for what I thought was a rather bazaar reason even for my standards, but on reflection I fully understand dear. On arrival at the gig, after a short queue and a quick loo visit, where Kat so kindly threaded me up with my gloves, we headed for the bar.
I spent the first song actually stood at the bar while many people pushed in front, not being helped by seeing D whom was behind me and started impromptu conversation, again loosing optimum serving position, but that doesn't matter because it was nice to see her. After another 5 minutes of me vocalising my complaint about not being served, a bloke made sure I was served and it was off to the middle to finish said drink then on to the front to do a spot of bouncing. And what a lot of bouncing was done, mainly to see over the top of some very young, but toweringly tall sproglings, who knew the odd lyric here or their, and who were stood next to what I can only describe as father figure who was giving it his all on every syllable. "Bless".
Was amused when I turned round to survey the mosh pit, all I saw was a sea of fourmist, knowing every face and seeing them all so smiley was so cool, again "Bless". About halfway through it got very cosy with OSM shouting out a variety of hilarious comments/quotes which had they few of us round him in stitches, one that I remember most being "I'm being sexually assaulted from behind." which amused me no end as this usually happens to me during JDOG.
I was mildly narked at the guy whom wriggled his hand between me and very young lad to get a hold on the front bar, only in the process he had wriggled through the string of the oven glove and my bag still trying to persist to get to the front even though there was no further for him to go. He refused to let go in the process of his positional move to the front, even when it was pointed out that I was now being strangled. I would have thought that frantic flapping of arms and OSM (I think, it's a bit of a blur due to the lack of oxygen reaching my brain) shouting at him that he would have released his grip, but no. It took all my strength to put my foot on his hip to move his arm, saving me from death by Oven Gloves.
The audience's burst into "There's only one John Peel!" during the encore break was a wonderful thing to hear, and the first song of the encore Venus in Flares was dedicated in his memory. Joy Division Oven Gloves followed to which the eternal waving of my gloves caught the attention of the guy with the camera, ignoring my camera shy tendencies I carried on regardless, enjoying what I can only describe as a legendary song. I later found out that Nick had seen me on the TV it was displayed on and laughed pointing me out to those around him saying "I know that lass with the oven gloves!" which apparently brought him great joy. Lol. The gig finished with Trumpton Riots, a firm favourite of the wobbling boy, and an excuse for everyone to go just that little bit mental for a final time before bed.
The entire gig was superb, the set list was fantastic, and the only disappointment was that I had to go catch the train home so soon after the gig, would have loved to have stayed and caught up with everyone for a bit longer, but I didn't fancy walking back Manchester. On the train both Wobs and I collapsed on Kat, very wet and a little bit smelly. Alighting at Piccadilly, a couple of lads on the train noticed the Oven gloves which were still clutched in my hand, which I stuffed in my bag.