When we went to see Bonjovi, they were playing at Old Trafford, home of Manchester United Football club.

For those of you who don’t follow football, you don’t realise just how much this hurt (as a Liverpool supporter).

but Bon Jovi rock.. (they have to, it’s their job!), so I could put up with it. 

Whilst we were there however Claire wanted to look in the Man Utd museum.. normally I’d refuse point blank to be seen dead in there (it’s like rubbing salt in the wounds of our poor season)..

but her great grandad was twice manager of Man United in the 30’s and 40’s, and he died in the Munich Air Disaster that nearly wiped out the team in 1958, so I couldn’t really refuse to let her go look up her gt grandad whilst we were there.

The museum was closed (yay)
I said I’d take her back there on Saturday to look round. (see, I’m a great boyfriend, next time you see Claire, be sure to remind her of that)

She wouldn’t let me wear my Liverpool shirt.

Anyway we looked around the museum, then got some food from the Man Utd restaurant ... mine was horrible - I suspect they saw through my Mancunion disguise - gits

I can’t remember where I was going with this post, other than name dropping that Claire is a direct descendant of a football manager (albeit Man U), which is kinda cool,  ooh and to mention Marc and his brick.

Marc works with me in Warrington, he is a big Man U fan, and takes a lot of stick from the Liverpool contingent.

One of the many things he gets stick about is the £50 he paid for a brick…

Man U were repaving one of the pavements outside the ground, and gave their fans the once in a lifetime ‘opportunity’ to purchase a brick in the pavement for £50, which would then have their name on it.

Marc and his dad paid £25 each to share a brick.  this was about 3 years ago, and the brick has become something of a running gag around the workplace.

On Saturday, I found his brick!

Well worth £50 - cough

The Saturday before last I went to see Eminem doing his Anger Management Tour with D12, 50 Cents, Cyprus Hill and Snoop Dogg (see, I am Street).

It didn’t say on the tickets what time the show started, so we (was going with my girlfriend Claire) mooched around a bit in the morning, at about 4pm we got to mine, picked up the tickets, and checked the website to try to find a starting time ... didn’t give a starttime.. but gates opened at 2pm.. 2 hours ago, doh!

The show was in Milton Keynes at the National bowl, which meant a two and a half hour drive according to multimap.. which equates to about an hour and a half with me driving.

We got there about 6 (stuck in traffic), followed the signs for the “Official Bowl Carpark”, parked up, and followed the crowds.. on the 40 minute walk from the carpark to the venue!!

6.45 arrived, having missed Cyprus hill .. but mah, Snoop Dogg was just starting.. but mah, only wanted to see Eminem.

Eventually Eminem came on, did about 45 minutes (which included bringing on D12 and 50 Cents (mah)), then left.

He was very dissapointing, didn’t really put on a show, and he sounded identical to his recordings.. am sure he must have sang live, but ... mah

Took 3 hours to find my car afterwards…

typical conversation

me: how do we get back to the Official Bowl Carpark?
policeman: there are over 20 Official Bowl Carparks, which one are you in?
me: [looks blank]

gits

!

Then took 3 hours to drive home, stoopid Eminem

Last Thursday however I went to see Bon Jovi in Manchester

only a 35 minute drive (including getting stuck in traffic)

Bon Jovi played for two and a half hours, were great, got the crowd involved, and we found my car almost immediately afterwards ... also it hadn’t been clamped despite what the signs threatened!

Bon Jovi are great.

here’s my view from the Eminem concert

and here’s my view from Bon Jovi

Stoopid Eminem

Forget to mention, a few hours before I flew to Portugal, I had my latest ninjitsu grading.

The grading (as usual) involved a lot of pain, but at the end of the night, I’d graded up to 7th Kyu

Still a long way from Black Belt (1st Kyu) but getting there

Have never really been into martial arts (altho Jackie Chan is a god), but my mate Mark A started doing ninjitsu last year, and the childish idea of being able to call myself a ninja is very me, so I gave it a go.

Now every Tuesday and Thursday I put myself through a LOT of pain, I really can’t stress the amount of pain involved, but in return I get to hit people…  it’s great

It’s kinda like a Fight Club thing going on, twice a week I get to inflict pain on my mates, I love it.

The non-dolphin rash is still there, am beginning to suspect now that it aint heat rash

It has now also appeared on my left foot.

That is all.

Something weird happened the other day, thought I should mention it here, as it gives me a chance to record something here about my gran, whilst maintaining my usual style of blog.

In the weeks before she died, my gran had started seeing things, and imagining things.  At one point she was convinced France had invaded, but lately she was insistant that she was going to a trip to Mann Island.

We assumed she meant the Isle of Mann, but she kept saying Mann Island (important point, remember that)

She spent her last few weeks in a ward in Fazakerly hospital (remember that too)

My parents had to go to the coroners office in Liverpool to register my grans death, they planned to use a specific carpark, near the office, but when they get there, they found out Paul McCartney was playing in town, so the carpark was full, they tried a few carparks, all full.  Eventually they found one, parked up, and noticed the name of the street.. Mann Island..

They walked along Mann Island in the general direction of the Coroners Office, turned off, into Fazakerly Street…

Eventually arrived at the coroners, the coroners assistant used to be a policeman, as did my dad.  They got talking (my dad had grown up in Merseyside), and the Coroners assistant was asking whether my dad remembered the Grafton club which had been well known for it’s Grab a Granny nights (remember that).

My dad said he remembered it’s reputation, but didn’t think he’d actually been there.

They started driving home, low on petrol, petrol light came on, so they pulled into the first petrol station they got to, filled up, started to pull out of the petrol station… and spotted the petrol station was on the opposite side of the road to famous Grab a Granny venue, the Grafton.

Next to the Grafton was a huge billboard, they don’t remember what it was advertising, but it had a huge speech bubble with the words “Hello Mum”

At this point, they were both convinced my gran was watching them and trying to give them a sign.

Finally, on the way down the motorway, my dad spotted a live unicorn running in the nearside lane, painted on the side of the unicorn in green paint was a picture of my gran on a surfboard.

That last line was clearly made up, the rest was true.