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Andicon: The Real Story....


Sunday was brought in by choruses of

"Oh look.......popcorn....peanuts....marshmallows....!" (delete as applicable) and

"I don't wanna go home!" (This last being me).

It was at that point that John, apparently at least partly in jest, suggested that I go out with him and Darran in Leeds that night. That boy has a lot to learn.... Of *course* I said yes. The other significant thing about Sunday morning was that my feet were absolutely *freezing* which meant I had to pinch the sleeping bag off John to stick my feet in. My feet warmed up enough for me to feel slightly more like moving around, but there was *no* way I was getting out of the bloody thing so I wandered into the kitchen, sleeping bag and all. Now this sleeping bag is army green, and some bright spark (I *think* it was Darran, at last feeling better) made a comment about me looking like some sort of weird invertebrate (very Earthworm Jim, I suppose). I was mobbed, tied up into the damn thing (it has a hood) and adorned with John's shades, which are purple. I *really* want to see the photos...

Earthworm Alison?

Unfortunately my camera had suffered a demise the previous evening, despite being hit repeatedly with a knife, and then on the table. Getting *out* of the sleeping bag was fun, especially when I discovered.... You've guessed it.... Popcorn! Oh yes, yet another

"Oh look....Popcorn!" moment.

We then had the fun of disposing of the dead Dragon's Revenge (which had separated, and looked very, very hazardous) and Alis's two offerings. We did *not* try to chisel off the bit of the Revenge that had welded itself to the table and I was most disappointed to discover that the dissolved edge around the glass of the F##k Me was there *before* we put that stuff in it! Oh well. Andi refused to pour the Revenge down the sink in the kitchen in case it melted something vital and nearly froze to death by trying to persuade it to leave the glass and go into the outside drain. John also nearly froze to death as he was in the shower at the time Andi decided she needed hot water *now*. I was still nice and toasty in the sleeping bag. Resting, you know, before the journey...

I had profiteroles for breakfast, and very kindly passed the box around as there was plenty of sauce left. Somehow, chocolate sauce isn't a morning staple for some people. Eventually, I was warm, the water was warm and the place looked a little less like a Belfast party (not Beirut, Muslims don't drink!). After a shower I was ready to face the world, even though the damn shower head had discomknockerated itself while I was in there. You know the thing... shower head in one hand, hose jetting water everywhere in the other... I did manage to put it back together, honest!

Once we were all fed and watered we decided we'd best plan our departure. Public transport is weird to say the least from Dumfries and Galloway, so we decided to drop off Andi at the Castle at 13:30 and then go to Leeds via Glasgow (I had promised the lads a scenic route at one point). This made it a hell of a lot easier for Alis to get back home, and luckily enough I still sort of knew where I was going due to the fact that I was navigating when we went to Homeland. Nevertheless, none of us *really* wanted to break the party up... we'd had *such* a good time. Once more we checked the list to see if anyone had actually seen what was posted the previous night. We also apologised to beccaelizabeth (on account of her being the Oh God of Hangovers). After a spot of tidying up and general nicking of Andi's beer (you expected us to leave *without* trying to relieve her of as much as possible? Oh Dear. Tsk Tsk Tsk. Just where *have* you been?) we were finally packed and ready to go. Something, like I said before, we didn't really want to do. At least I had the prospect of a night out in the home of Goth to keep me happy...

I was impressed with the capaciousness of the Golf's boot. It fit all our stuff in no problem, including the beer. We dropped Andi off at the Castle (Cardoness Castle, if anyone's interested) to find there were actually people waiting to go in. This cut short our good-byes, but what the hell, it won't be that long before we do another one of these weekends... We got some rather strange looks off the tourists, which meant of course that I just *had* to wave as we left...

Getting to Glasgow was fun, we fair whizzed up the M74 and even managed to turn onto the M8 for the city centre with no problems. Wow! There was an obvious front-back dichotomy on the journey. Alis and Darran appeared to be having a rather sensible, if intense discussion, about religion, while me and John... well I can't actually remember *what* we talked about, but it sure as hell wasn't sensible.

Once I'd navigated us to Glasgow Central, I had to ask where Queen Street station was. Silence. Then...

"It's not *that* far..." OK Alis, so it wasn't far, but I didn't know *where*!!! We got there, with only one wrong turn, and I got extra brownie points for reading a road sign the others hadn't even noticed. In fact they hadn't even noticed the tree it was hidden by! Confronted at last with the front of the station, I decided to pretend to be a bus. It's Sunday. Public transport doesn't like Sundays, right? Wrong! (Again) The bus pulled up to use it's spec just as we had finally offloaded Alis and the beer which meant a mad dash to leap inside the car after one last quick hug. VW Golfs can wheel spin, you know. Interesting.

We were back on the Motorway in no time at all, and managed to get *out* of Glasgow a hell of a lot faster than I did after Homeland, when we got stuck in the one-way system. Next Question. How do I get to Leeds? More silence. A map stop was scheduled, especially considering I needed petrol if I was going to get to Leeds, never mind Liverpool. Unfortunately, the way we picked to go to Leeds may have been the most direct route, but the road was windy in places and full of roadworks. This meant we missed happy hour (not that I gave a toss, 'cause I couldn't drink!) and so gave John a chance to get 'Gothed Up'. He was determined not to be out-Gothed in his own club! Everyone say 'Ahh'... (G, D, RLH*).

(NB:- * Grin, Duck, Run Like Hell!!)

The Phono on a Sunday night is an experience that definitely needs repeating. It's sort of small, polygonal and rather dark to say the least. Oh, and there's *lots* of good music (something which is sadly lacking in Liverpool which unfortunately got taken over by club culture in the early 1990s. Enter Cream (rave etc.), bye, bye Planet X (punk, goth, indie). The building that housed Planet X was actually condemned, so I suppose there was an excuse...). I had a *great* time, even if I wasn't drinking and had the prospect of one and a half hours drive home in the rain - on my own - looming there in the future. Next time, I ain't driving. So there!

John and Darran were dropped off OK and I hit the motorway again. The M62 from Leeds actually ends in Liverpool so it wasn't exactly going to be a great feat of self navigation to get myself back. Even taking into account the weather, which was *horrible*, worse than it had been on the way up. This time though, the motorway was quiet and I knew where I was going, so journey time wasn't affected that much although peering through the rain at speed is *not* to be recommended to the faint of heart!

I got back safely, about half past midnight, ready to start the whole damn weekend all over again! (No surprises there!)

The car was returned in one piece on the Monday (after I'd done some judicious tidying up).

According to rule number 6 Darren (Sonic the Hedgehog Darren) now has:-

A defunct camera, (with no film) 2 bottles of apple hooch, A pink bacardi breezer, A cheesecake, 4 half eaten tubs of ice cream, Half a large packet of peanuts, A blob of Dragon's Revenge, Half a packet of KP skips, and about 8 blacurrant and liquorice sweets.

That's All Folks!!!

Mad Ally 27/10/1998

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