The Curse is Lifted...

I'm currently waiting to enter a Ticketmaster queue. Send snacks.

Seriously, I HATE the ticket-buying process. I've been forever scarred by Eurovision 2023. The combination of adrenaline, pressure, and crashing disappointment provided the fraughtest morning of my life. It was my own fault for wanting to attend something popular. 

My normal gig choices are less high-profile. I stumble across an event, check out what's left, then buy tickets months after release. I like it that way. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. 

Me in 1992: 
The Take That gigging days

Less so, this morning. On behalf of my sister and her mate, I find myself waiting for Take That tickets. Take That? Is it the NINETIES? As with Oasis last year, I find myself saying, 'I was there the first time round' whenever Take That get mentioned. I really was. The year was 1992. The venue was the St. Helens Show. My school friend and I had heard of the band because they'd had one hit in the charts. We stood in a sweatbox of a shed/makeshift stage and listened to numerous support acts that padded out the time. When Take That finally appeared, they sang approximately six songs and played their big hit twice. My first gig. 

I've never felt the need to repeat the Take That experience but I'm sure it's different these days. They probably won't be reprising  It Only Takes a Minute Girl at the Etihad. Who knows? Hopefully my sister and her friend will be there to find out. If I ever get to the front of this queue, that is.

Writing News

I'm still whittling the wood, chiselling the marble, and trimming the split ends. What other metaphors can I throw at you, or perhaps you'd like a simile? It's like painting the Forth Bridge. As soon as you get to the end of the manuscript, you have to go to the start and repeat. All this is to say, I'm keeping on, keeping on.

Making notes about
 a film Phil will hate.

In other writing news, I spent last night watching a film for my podcast. In Lights, Camera... Aggro? me and Phil, who have very different tastes in film, watch the same movie and discuss. Last night, I watched what we'll be discussing on October 15th. That meant, I had to write notes, form opinions, and analyse the thing. It can sometimes feel like homework - especially when it's one of Phil's choices, lolz - but when it's one of my faves, it's a joy. Exactly like being in a book club or an English Lit seminar - just with films. Wait, is that what Film Studies would be like? Is it too late to change my major? I think twenty-six years after graduation, it probably is. Anyway, last week's episode about Superman is here for your listening ears.

Culture

The Women's Super League season has started. I'm sure I've made this point before, but despite being decidedly non-sporty, I love the way a live match will perk me up. Like my endorphins are released by simply watching others perform in fresh air. 

Matt Beard

Last Wednesday, I was at the Liverpool v Sunderland match. This one was special. A few days earlier, Matt Beard - Liverpool's manager until this season - had died. He was my age. The atmosphere felt particularly charged. A moving tribute and minute's silence, two minutes of chanting Matt Beard's mighty reds at volume, and so much support for the players that were grieving. Liverpool scored five goals that night, which felt exactly right. For Matt.

Food and Drink

Oh pizza, you're the best. So many iterations, so much room for manoeuvre, so impossible to balls up. Last week, I had a Saturday night fuelled by dirty martinis and the most glorious pizza I ever did see. You want to know the topping? Course you do. Brush the base with olive oil, sprinkle a layer of rocket, add sliced figs, sliced brie, a sprinkle of grated cheddar, crushed walnuts, and a drizzle of honey. Ta-dah! You've got yourself a Saturday night.

Out and About

It's been a two-match week. Liverpool played Manchester United yesterday - more endorphins by proxy. Other than that, it's been quiet. Hibernation vibes are in the air. For the match, I seriously layered up for the first time this year. Give me a t-shirt, v-neck jumper, and coat combo any time.

I guess you'll be wanting some closure, won't you? Well, I can confirm, that since I typed this post's opening paragraph, the ticket queue has moved. It moved so much that by the time I was talking about changing my major from Psychology to Film Studies, I'd become the happy recipient of two tickets for Take That. Finally! The ticket selling Gods are no longer against me. I've lifted the curse! Maybe I should try for Glastonbury tickets if it's this easy! There's a whole new world out there, filled with high-demand performances and thousands of screaming fans. Bring it on!

Have a lovely week, folks.