Ripped and Torn

Relaxed train up north with Debs greeted by Olly. Couple of swift ones at the granary then us and Sheren into town for industrial strength martinis and food. Wander up to the Commercial pub enter to strains off Pretty Vacant. Good omen! Strange mix of young uns flirting single men or in twos eyeing up divorcees earnestly quaffing large glasses of white wine and being loud. Leave for our weekend house by the canal outside Chester.

Chilly morning good for hangovers. Eggs then for a brisk walk round the Chester Roman walls with our brilliant hosts. Back to see England beat Wales 2-0 in 3D then rest of crew Si Jules Bruce Gita in foot plaster arrive and after fizz and cake off in the Old Age Minibus to Manchester with young Cameron in tow.

Kro bar good drinks crap food then on to the point of the weekend. Academy classic big hall rock venue - same as where first saw The Stranglers at Bath Pavilion 33 years ago. Poor first support with bigotted singer. Then for Wilko Johnson who rattled and rolled through a great set of the usual suspects Dr Feelgood Solid Senders and assorted R&B (as in it's original sense) standards. Brilliant as ever including great bassist Norman Watt Roy. Complete with JJ Burnel and his guitarist invading the stage naked bar novelty animal balloons. Dr Dupree the highlight for me. Go see them!

At bar when strains of I Feel Like A Wog pile out so Bruce an me fight thru the throng of ageing rockers all in grey faded black with drinks to find the others at the front. Knock back pint and intrepidly pounce into the mosh pit to emerge ripped and torn over an hour later after a blistering rendition of so many classics spanning the decades. Surprising amount of youngsters jumping around singing the words and inciting general mayhem. Great times except my lovely polka dot shirt got ripped in the mosh then torn into strips by four young ladies who used then as neckerchiefs. Odd especially as so damp but they seemed happy. Same fate occurred to my mates flared jeans back in 78.

After a couple of encores negotiate seething throng outside to find mates banter with kids from the mosh pit then all aboard the Saga bus home for champagne tea toast giggles and sweet sweet sleep. Eggs again tearful goodbyes cheers Olly must do again and now on train back to our riot hit capital. Note to self wear T shirts to punk gigs.