Ah the return of the Hangover Blog. Oh how I have missed thee.

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So last weekend I travelled up t’North (as it is properly known to us Southerners), to Manchester to see Scratch Night Girl-ish, performed by the amazingly talented women of No Door Theatre (Click here for last weeks post). There is something odd about jumping on a plane and landing the same country you have taken off in.

 

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Not quite the sun kissed beaches of Majorca

 

Although a trip to the tropical paradise that is Manchester did hold significance for me, as this was in fact the city from where my Mother hailed from and called her home growing up. So I was excited to walk the streets my Mum had walked down many years earlier, although she did have to break it to me, that perhaps things would have changed in the 30 or so years since she has lived there.

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I’d like to think Johnny has been there forever

Still, even though we hadn’t left the country, this was all still so new to me. Having spent all my life in the South of England, I was excited to share the same experiences as my Northern brethren and live the life they live. So we went to a bar, got served by a southerner, and consumed Italian food and beer. Eee by Gum, don’t get much more Northern than that my son!

Did someone say alcohol?

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So after watching Girl-Ish we were lucky enough to hang out with the cast and crew of No Door Theatre, and what happens when you find yourself in an enclosed space with a bunch of theatre types, near a flowing stream of alcohol? Well you suddenly find yourself on a night bus into the centre of town to go out clubbing – Wait what? How did I get here, you know my views on clubbing! I’m a grumpy 60 year old trapped in a 25 year old’s body! Problem for this inner curmudgeon is that his travelling companion is a young fresh faced University student who is way cooler than myself and leaps at the opportunity to venture out into the alcoholic’s equivalent of that cave in the  Dagobah system.

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Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Once you’ve fallen out the taxi and stumbled back to your hotel room, having a full blown argument with the fucking key card lock – because I can never work the bloody thing, why can’t we just have keys like normal people, because I have to shove that card in every which way about a dozen bloody times before the damn thing gives way…. followed by a mere 4 hours sleep where really bad leg cramp suddenly wakes you up at 5am to remind you how much of an old man you are, you realise perhaps you shouldn’t have consumed that much alcohol when you have to check out at the ungodly time of 10am. The regret also sinks in, along with the pounding inside your head, as you ride the bus into town over a dozen potholes, even though you pay an insufferable amount of money each year on road tax, so why the hell don’t the pot holes get filled in? Don’t the Council even think about the poor hungover man dying on the bus? Then once off the bus, you have eight hours to kill..in a city you’ve never been to before…with a hangover… whilst this shit is going on.


This man is my hero

Thankfully the two of us survived dragging our carcasses through the city of Manchester, avoiding the temptation to fall asleep in a Costa Coffee, or throw up in a public toilet, to take in some of the sights this city has to offer. These included, but were not limited to, seeing a police woman give chase and tackle a man to the ground, people failing to pay attention to on coming trams, an oddly large number of hen party gatherings, and whatever the hell is going on here.

As far as hangovers go…. yeah this was a pretty horrid one. I don’t know what it is about hanging out with other theatre types, but the alcohol always seems to flow a lot thicker and faster. Or maybe it’s just my crippling alcoholism…. Nah can’t be that

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Anyways, the pair of us made it o the end of the day with our heads held high, (literally we were having to physically hold them up) to make it to the airport, and enjoy the fun ordeal of me starting to panic as I think about just how in the flying hell does a giant hunk of metal, with dozens of people inside manage to get itself from the ground into the air when it must weigh a bloody tonne and- Oh wait we’re back home… that was quick!

And breath

I always love writing Hangover Blogs for this site, although the actual experience of the hangover is not one I am keen to repeat. So I’m happy to leave it a while before having to endure another one.

So next week I am London bound for the 28 Plays Later meet up. Meaning I will once again be in an enclosed space….with a load of theatre types….near a flowing stream of alcohol

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Hangover blog it is. 

DAVE

P.S – Cheeky plug time. This April I will be performing in Yt2 Theatre’s production of the Simon Stephens play Birdland. We are taking the show up to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this year, but before then we are hosting two performances at the Hanger Farm Arts Centre in Totton, Southampton. If you are in the area, or even if you’re not, you should really come and check out what will be a truly fantastic piece of theatre. And hey, maybe we can get drunk afterwards, because that’s what us theatre types do right?

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Tickets can be purchased here

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