I haven’t been myself of late, I haven’t slept for several days, but coming home I feel like I designed these buildings I walk by
-Station Approach, Elbow
We’d left the flowers in the restaurant. Tulips, ones picked out by the florist by St Anne’s Square. Purple. Served with a mother’s day card, and forgotten in our bustle to get to nearby cocktails with our names on them. I hot-stepped back to the restaurant on a retrieval mission. Mum, nana and sister on the other side of the road waiting, the rare Mancunian blue sky cut into by the clean stone edges of the library behind them. Reappearing through the doors, flowers aloft, they cheer.
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Queuing, rain drizzled, hoodie-hems bunched into my fists. Never leave the house without a brolly, mate. The cars that steam by tear through puddles, shoring onto our ankles. Merchandisers and touts call out to fans, and I pick up a new habit of always buying a knock off tshirt at gigs. The black doors open, and we have our tickets in hand, giddy.
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Every weekend, without fail. No texts, no promises, no arranging. You just turned up, sometimes bringing in a new person. That’s how the group got bigger, swelling week on week, as our gaggle of teens became a crowd. We’d drink Kick, play tinny bands from our phone and occasionally slope off to snog someone. Pooling money to get cider, the high whispers and sharp crackle of skateboard wheels behind. 1pm, Saturday, Urbis.
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Alright, are kid?
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We’d try and wag the train. One of us fooled the inspector by pretending to be asleep, but it only worked once. Mostly we’d pull into our platform, subvert the one way system, and therefore ticket inspectors, by heading upstairs to the MEN Arena foyer. Maybe we’d nip into McDonalds while we were there. The foyer had a separate exit, so we were clean sailing and £1.40 up. My heart would be in my throat the whole time. They blocked that route years back.
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My first ever concert. Nana won tickets on a Key 103 competition, and I had agonised over what to wear. Some girls from year six would be there, and not understanding the size of the arena I thought they might see (and ergo, judge) me. The music was so loud I covered my ears at first. Later, wired by the dancing, I whispered to my sister how much she would have loved it from my bottom bunk.
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I miss your eyelashes and the streets where I grew tall, I miss getting piss wet through, getting to yours and getting warm
-The Opener, The Courteeners
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