I've got this bloody DW; might as well use it, I guess.
Back home after what should have been a fine weekend in Sheffield, a city I've always had a fondness for - like Hull, it's always somehow felt welcoming, like home, to me. Not visited for years; decades in fact, but it's still there :)
Should have been fine? It was, would have been, if some smegma-encrusted prime shit hadn't lifted ramtops's phone in Henry's at lunchtime on Saturday. Still, we had what were very fine slabs of dead cow in 23 Bar on Friday night. On Saturday morning, a pleasant wander in beautiful early spring sun witnessing Sheffield's Morris infestation, and in a somewhat subdued way in the afternoon too, before heading down to the Old House to meet up with Tim (who we hadn't seem for years) and Ali (who we'd never met at all) Biller before the night's Richard Thompson gig at City Hall. The man confirmed, as if it were needed, that he's one of the greatest guitarists this country has ever spawned, along with a splendidly tight rhythm section featuring Michael Jerome Moore, one of the finest drummers I've ever seen. A truly excellent night.
Today, we wandered down to frandowdsofa' gaff to meet the Pillowcase Gang in all their needle-sharp horror, along with dougs and Julia, and Carrie and Jim. A good few hours eating food and talking high class bollocks, before strolling back the station, train, and Hull.
[ edited to restore the whole middle paragraph that DW in their wisdom vaped on posting ]
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