Manchester Book Signing

A Personal Review of a Wonderful Day!

7.30am the alarm sounds and I wake bleary eyed like every morning. I reluctantly roll from my lovely warm bed and stagger to the bathroom, grunting at my teenage daughter as we pass on the landing. At this point I am far from fully conscious and am unable to use long two word phrases such as ‘Good Morning’. Waking up has never been an easy process as I have always had a close and loving relationship with my bed, preferring to stay in it as long as possible having had a broken and far from peaceful nights sleep. But today is a special day and my thoughts will become more focused on my day’s mission.

After I have packed my little princess off to school, which involves a series of questions such as, “have you got yer dinner money?” have you got yer phone?” have you got yer books for t’day?” “Did you eat breakfast?” and “give us a kiss and be careful walking to school” she is gone and the day is mine.

I am now fully alert after a nice cup of de-café tea and make my way to the shower, I wash my hair; this is the biggest job of the day. Having long blonde straight hair may look simple enough but let me tell you it is in fact high maintenance and requires a great deal of work to make my already straight hair look even straighter! After washing it, it then requires a lot of brushing combing and applying of smoothing and straightening products. Once this is done the drying can commence, usually after ten minutes or so the drying is done, and my hair looks like a large pouf ball I resemble a cave woman so then I bring out the big guns, yes! ‘The straightening irons’ another ten to fifteen minuets after a lot of straightening in layers of course my hair begins to take shape and my naturally straight hair begins to look smooth and sleek! Final touches I apply some hair shine and bobs your uncle, fannies your aunt we’re finally done!

All week my planned mode of transport from Clitheroe to Manchester had been firmly fixed in my mind as being by car. But with in the last twenty-four hours I had become unsettled about my mode of transport, in fact waking in the middle of the night pondering this matter. I don’t know why but I felt that I should not drive into Manchester, as I normally would have. So I investigated the trains and found that there was a regular one on the hour from Clitheroe costing only £7.00 return. Naturally this seemed to work out much cheaper than fuelling the car. Being a tight arse it seemed cheaper than paying the parking fee in some of the car parks, which would have been probably as much at the train fare. I deeply resent paying for parking, as in my view when you visit somewhere to spend your brass parking should be free. However in Manchester there are certain car parks (with only three letters in there name) that will quite happily fleece you with a big cheesy smile on their face, it is worse than highway robbery. At least Dick Turpin wore a mask to hide his shame when he robbed folk.

Perhaps my nervousness was justified, having visited Manchester over the years a number of disasters had struck while taking a motorized vehicle into the city. The worst of the worst was when I was on my way to see Adam in concert in the 1980’s full of excitement and glee. It soon evaporated when my car engine blew up in central Manchester in a restricted zone, oh what a pisser that was, I never made the concert and I shall never forgive FIAT, after this disaster I told my brother to take the f**king shit heap away and destroy it. Another time I parked in Manchester on a Sunday lunch outside a church only to return to find some thieving scum had smashed my window and ‘tried’ to take my stereo, they failed but I still had to drive 45 miles with no window in the car and pay for a new one fitting, I wished for their wicked ways to rebound on them threefold!

The last time I visited Manchester (only a few months back) the car I traveled in with a friend would not start, parked in the dark dank underground railway arches we had to bump it, me driving him pushing, doing it backwards was a first for me! Putting that aside the other aspect was of course having to drive into Manchester with all the other mad people on the roads, particularly the M66 and M60 which is positively heaving with cars, lorries and vans full of very bad tempered grumpy evil people. The A56 is not much better and the thought of negotiating this in rush hour made me rethink my approach. It seems me, cars and Manchester are bad news. I could not risk another disaster while trying to reach my ‘precious’ Adam and with the same determination as the Hobbits in ‘Lords of the Rings’ I set of on my adventure and for once I listened to the inner voice warning me and decided to let the train take the strain.

2.50pm the train pulled into Manchester Victoria and I alight with my mission firmly fixed in my mind. 1. Locate Arndale Shopping Center, 2. Ascend to upper floor, 3. Using internal homing device locate and enter ‘Waterstones Book Store’. Amazingly I achieved this within fifteen minuets of leaving the train station and noted that I entered the shop at approximately 3.05pm. I congratulated myself on the execution of my mission so far. Bearing in mind I am not a Mancunian and do not know my way around Manchester.

On entering the shop I heard a voice in my head, the voice of my best friend Janey, “Make sure you get there early, the queue will be big” I surveyed the shop. A small group of people was hovering near the middle of the store by the service desk. I glided passed and we eyed each other up. They were obviously BIG Ant fans eagerly waiting to be first in the queue. First things first, I had to find the Coffee shop; I followed my nose and located it at the rear of the shop. I then came back and gravitated to the large display of Adams book and snatched one quickly from the display. I noted the group of Ant fans watching me, now confirming that I too was an Ant fan who also worshipped the mortal God known as Adam Ant. Yes I too had once had a bedroom plastered wall to ceiling in this mans beautiful image and still regularly drank from the cup of all that is Ant. I was excited to be near so many others with such refined taste. They stared at me; I tried to look cool, and hurriedly paid for my book and went to get a well earned coffee.

My mouth was as dry as a bucket of sand, I was feeling excited now that I was finally in the shop without any mishaps, my hands were icy cold indicating a suppressed anticipation of seeing the great man himself. I ordered coffee, COSTA coffee. I think this name is short for costa a lot of F***ing money coffee. £2.19 for a cappuccino and a good ten minuets wait, perhaps they had to grow the beans first. I paid up and swigged it down, while drooling over my new shinny book soon to be signed and fondled by the great man himself.

I started to feel an urgency that it was time to join the queue, I again heard my darling friends voice advising me to “get their early” earlier that week I had contemplated not listening to her but her voice was persistent in warning me that the queue would be a big one. I floated down to the front of the shop and saw the group of Ant fans now assembled behind some barriers. Never having attended a book signing before I was not graced in the etiquette required for such occasions.

I looked at them they looked at me and then I asked how I might get round to join the queue. It was suggested I should just go under the barrier, so I did and stood there. I noted that there seemed to be an embarrassing atmosphere and that they were looking at me strangely and then glancing at one and another equally in a strange manner. I had not cottoned on to the fact that they were at the front of the queue and now I had just stepped in front of the lot of them. At first I thought my zip on my jeans might be open so I checked that, or may be I was doing a Judy Finnigan and one of my tit’s was hanging out and I had not noticed, but everything seemed relatively normal.

Eventually one of them spoke politely, a young man with long red hair and purple shades on. “You do realize that you are actually standing at the front of the queue?” or words to that effect. He gesticulated to the area where I then suddenly realized a table would be set for the book signing. They all stared at me like I was from another planet or possibly even a Duran Duran fan. Well actually no, I had not realized and felt rather like a t**t not to mention the thought of upsetting a rather large group of serious Ant fans.

I considered my faux-pas briefly for a moment, thinking of my newly fitted crowns and front teeth and not wanting to experience any more dental work of such magnitude, I apologized most profusely, the red haired gentleman pointed me in the right direction. Although it was a genuine mistake I think they viewed me with suspicion I buggered off to take my rightful place at the back of the queue (which was not that big actually).

Of course I would never try to jump the queue it simply is not ‘cricket’. We British like our queues and I can tell you by 5.00pm this one was a big bugger. All the way around the shop (and it’s a big shop) right down the center and out the door, bugger me I’m glad I got there when I did. Any one would think there was a war on or rationing or something. It just goes to show that Adam is still greatly loved and respected by his fans that he could cause such a stir in a bookshop.

While standing in the queue I had the great pleasure of meeting some very nice people whom I chatted to during our two and a half hour wait. We exchanged stories of our Ant experiences and had a good laugh cracking jokes off. The tension in the shop was beginning to build as more and more people joined the queue and the atmosphere seemed to become electric. There was excited chatter all around us.

The time was drawing close for Adams arrival, the store photographer Chris Loufte was bouncing around taking pictures, we interrogated him. “do you think Adam will be on time?” “Which door will he come through?” “Why are you taking photo’s of us” “which paper do you work for” “can we get the photos that you are taking just in case mine are crap” He was very nice and helpful and answered all our questions. We had been told when joining the queue that we were not supposed to take photos, as Adam did not want to be bombarded constantly with flashes. But by 5.00pm my camera was hurling verbal abuse at me from within the green carrier bag to “get it out and take aim” I could not resist, I got it out and fondled the long firm black zoom lens and set it ready for Adams appearance. Then the announcement came “Adams going to be late, he’s been held up on the M6 due to a crash near Birmingham” The sound of disappointment ricocheted down the line, moaning, groaning and whining could be heard. I had a little moan myself but gave thanks that it was not Adam who was in the crash and spared a moment to consider that some poor sod was having a bad day, while I just had sore feet.

The atmosphere was now buzzing in the shop as everyone waited with anticipation it would only be moments till he arrived.

At 5.20 pm the King of the Ants finally arrived, the lift doors pinged open and out he strode to a plethora of flashlight and a round of excited applause and cheering as he walked down to the front of the shop. I sprung into action shooting away and hoping no fat head would get in my way! His beautiful image passed in front or me, did I manage to catch it on film. I don’t f***ing know it happened that quick he was gone in a flash!

Finally the queue began to move slowly I prepared myself, clutching my book in my sweaty little hand and making sure the camera was ready to fire, I was going to have a photo with ‘him’ no one was going to stop me!

I chatted away with my newfound friends and as the queue moved we began to notice that the queue that had been relatively lean began to expand in depth. Some of the people that had surged forward to get a good butchers at Adam seemed to just remain at the front and merged their way into to queue. One of the guys standing with us went and had a quiet word with the organizers and brought it to their attention.

There will always be a certain type of person who thinks that they are more worthy and important than others in this world. They don’t think that they should stand in a queue for two and a half hours like the rest of us. I stood and waited patiently chatting away waiting for my turn, and I shared this time in the queue with a lovely lady who was walking on two crutches, I did not hear her complain about having to wait to see Adam, although I know she was in some considerable pain. For those individuals who did shove in to the queue, I do not know your names but you know who you are, SHAME ON YOU!

The queue moved closer and closer soon it would be my turn. Before I knew it I was standing their waiting next to approach the supreme leader of all the Ant people. This man I had developed a huge fancy for at the fair age of thirteen and had grown up with his music into a mature woman who was now hovering dangerously close to the big 40. He was now only six feet away from me. I did expect my knees to knock but strangely they did not. I was ushered forward, oh my god this is it! I approached and my book was placed down in front of him, it is strange how you can be in awe of someone and loose the power of speech, and I did!

Adam signed the book and enquired how I was doing and put out his hand, I shook it staring into his face “I’m very well thank you and how are you? I enquired, he was apparently well. This is good news to any Ant fan. I then told Adam that now I had got this done I could go get some food cause I was starving hungry, he looked at me and then said “ave you been ear long then” He seemed surprised and when I informed him “yes since 3.05pm” he looked at me like I was a mad woman. My brief moment was over I was ready for the off until the assistant reminded me of that photograph that no one was going to stop me from having need to be taken. I turned and Chris Loufte was holding my camera, well at least I stood a good chance of getting one good photo I thought to my self as I grimaced and attempted a smile feeling rather like a bunny in the headlights of a fast approaching car!

My feet were killing by this time and I was glad not to be standing in a queue anymore, I stood by and took a few more close up shots of Adam in between passing bodies and then hobbled back to the train station ready to catch the 6.58pm to Clitheroe.

My mission was complete.

Was it worth it?

Oh Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!