Ah, Manchester, so much to answer for.

In, roughly, chronological order- Went up to Manchester to ‘work’ (well, I did two hours worth, and I discovered my ex-boss hates me- which makes me happy) with a lift from John. It’s his last fortnight at work, so we lined up many beers in Rain. Lots of beer was consumed. I lost at arm wrestling to a girl who was all of five feet tall and off her head on caffeine, then tried to swap tops with her (I was drunk enough to think I’d get away with it too!)

More beer, a boogie in Springbok (didn’t I go into one of those in Cardiff? Or was that the Kangaroo? or the Sloth? I’m losing track of all the theme bars!) This bit is all a little fuzzy, I’ll have to wait until I develop the photos.

The evening was rounded off with disgusting greasy chicken on St. Peter’s Square and a ‘King of the World’ moment on the pebble.

And then there was Saturday, spent in that wierd netherworld of the heavy duty hangover, wandering around the city centre and then having random renditions of ‘Jerusalem’ sung at me in the pub. But that’s another story.