Corona

I met Ellen at the train station in Manchester this morning (which seems like forever ago) and we had a fifty-minute, rapid-fire catch-up chat. It was so lovely to see her. She's up for an award for her writing work on Corrie, which is undoubtedly much deserved.

I got on the train to London, and became rather concerned when the train started stopping at fairly random places in Cheshire like Wilmslow. A quick look at google maps on my phone gave me the impression that we were actually lheading due north until I realised I had activated some kind of insane setting on my phone which showed me an upside down map! What's all that about? Why would there ever be a need to show due north at the lower end of a map?

The news is full of the hurricane which we're told is heading our way with gusts of wind up to 100 miles per hour. It's due to hit the West of the country, some time tomorrow, most likely whilst we're performing in Bristol... Which I reckon is fairly comprehensively west!

Unfortunately, necessity dictates that I have to drive through the storm when returning to London although Nathan seems to think I'll be fine on the M4.

We discovered that my train seat had been double-booked, when, at Crewe, a family arrived and flashed their tickets at me. Under any other circumstance I would have moved, but I was writing at my computer and had a table seat (which I'd requested) and didn't fancy wandering off down the train like Moses in search of Israel. I instantly regretted my decision, however, as three of the family piled in next to me, one of whom, a 5 year-old lad, insisted on climbing underneath the table where he started tapping me on my foot. Daddy was wearing a hearing aid and seemed rather ensconced in his own work, so no one said anything, and I merely sat there, trying to hope the tapping sensation would go away!!

I think it was when the lad decided to climb back onto the chair and use me as a pillow that I began to wish I were invisible. I mean... What do you do when Daddy doesn't notice? It's surely rude to tell the lad to sit up straight, is it?

I returned to London, had some spaghetti on toast and then jumped in the car to drive to Bristol, chasing a remarkable sunset for most of the journey, which at one point seemed only to be lighting the very tops of the trees. At one stage, just as I drove past Windsor Castle and Abba's Arrival came on my iPod, one of the cloud edges developed a crazy rainbow corona, which was rather pleasing, especially when a flock of tarty birds decided they'd do a fly by in silhouette!

I've been in my hotel room all night, watching telly, writing Brass and eating soup. Wind's up, and I've decided I don't like Bristol, based almost entirely on my getting horrifically lost on my way here, and the ghastly mess of a shopping centre where we seem to be staying.

Here's a confession: I've never been to Liverpool.