Where were Judy Garland's Friends?

OK, let's start with the gig. The tickets said the gig was due to start at 8pm and that there'd be no support. At 7pm we were still eating, and hadn't established on the map exactly where we were going. We left at 7.20pm, pausing only briefly on the realisation that my car had no petrol and that we had no time to fill it up and hence had to take Alison's.

I was convinced we were going to be late, and was therefore a tightly wound stress-bunny all the way there. Other drivers were really fucking me off, it was like all the bastards and halfwits could sense me coming and decided it was time they went out and about on the roads from Warwick into Birmingham. We found the Sanctuary just after 8pm, and were relieved to see that people were still queueing to get in. We later found that actually 8pm was only the time for doors. We chatted to a friendly couple in the queue who had travelled down from Scotland and were Numan fans, all done up in their Numan gear. Between the four of us we bitched about all the people who fancy themselves as music buffs who you overhear in the queues for gigs.

Once we got inside... the Sanctuary was tiny. Compared to the Academy last month, which I thought then was a small venue, it was about a quarter of the size. When you hear people talking about gigs in intimate venues, they're talking about places like the Sanctuary. I was worried when we first got inside that I was going to end up getting freaked out by the crowded atmosphere, but as it turned out I just got absorbed into the gig once it got going.

Alison's first comment as soon as they walked on was to say of Andy Bell "He's such an old queen". Naturally, my reaction was along the lines of "Well, duh." And your reaction to me telling you this will be along the lines of "Well, obviously you had to be there."

Speaking of queens, they seemed to be lacking. The atmosphere of the place was much more towards 80s Revival audience than, how shall we put it, the stereotypical Erasure audience (which as far as I remember from the gigs I went to in 1990 was never quite as representative of the actual turn-out as you'd expect). However, right in front of us were possibly the two dullest queens on the planet, who seemed far more interested in catching as much as possible of the gig on their digital cameras than they were in actually enjoying the gig. With all the digital technology around these days this seems to be a trend at gigs, each time there seem to be more and more people more interested in capturing the moment than in actually experiencing it.

It was a cool set. They opened with Alien off the most recent album, which to me is probably the most memorable song from that album, the rest of it being on the poor side. I would try to list all the tracks they did, but I'm bound to miss something. They did all the old favourites, Blue Savannah, Victim of Love, A Little Respect, Love To Hate You, Oh L'Amour, etc, mixed in with a number of tracks from their forthcoming album Other People's Songs. As you might be able to guess from the title, it's a covers album. The first of these we were treated to was a strong version of Can't Help Falling In Love. Andy fluffed his cue on Everybody's Got To Learn Sometime, causing a brief moment of amusement. I didn't like that one so much - nothing to do with him messing up, it just didn't seem to ever quite get going. The best of all the covers was You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin', which really got the crowd going, and given the whole 80s mood of the night left me wanting to run off and watch Top Gun. Yes my friends, I warned you in the previous entry that there would be scary things in this entry. The other covers were True Love Ways, Goodnight, and finally, the first song of the encore, Solsbury Hill. Naturally, the other two songs in the encore were Sometimes and Stop!, which Erasure seem to finish with at every gig.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, in the middle of the gig was a question and answer session to Andy and Vince, using questions that were sent in by people on the email list earlier in the week. I didn't get round to thinking of any good ones, so didn't send any. We didn't actually hear much of this, since there were people behind us MAKING LOADS OF FUCKING NOISE. Grrr. Gonna email the fan club and see if they have a transcript.

So then, onto today, and the trip to Birmingham. While Alison and I were getting up and getting ready to go, I was bombarding Anne with text messages trying to find out when she was gonna drag her ass in. As we boarded the train (at about 1.30pm, I might add) she suddenly started replying, having apparently been dead to the world sleeping off a night on Alcopops. So Alison and I had lunch on our own at Starbucks, watching the next table like it was a reality TV show.

To begin with, there were two guys and two girls, all around 6th form age. One of the guys and one of the girls were quite obviously a couple, since they decided to slobber all over each other for quite some time. The other two, who looked to be mates of either half of the couple but not with each other, sat at either end of a sofa and pretty much ignored each other. This was quite amusing to watch. After Alison left to do her Christmas shopping and I waited for Anne (who was having trouble with the trains), lots of other 6th formers (if that's a correct assessment) came and went, and though it seemed as though there were as many people going as turning up, the group got bigger and bigger, gradually taking over all of the comfy chairs except for the ones I was keeping aside. It's good that they were 6th formers, because it would've been wrong to find some of the girls cute otherwise (especially the friend of the slobbering girl, very nice).

Finally Anne turned up, after looking for me in every other Starbucks in Birmingham. I got drinks, and we started talking about her previous night. Yes, the last line of that entry refers to me. We talked about lots of stuff, including her trip to Ireland. And just as the conversation started getting to the point when it became more of a heart-to-heart than just plain gossiping, we were interrupted.

I was keeping a third chair free, you see. For when Alison decided she needed a break from shopping. And given the 6th form party that was going down all around us, the chair I was saving for Alison was now the only free comfy chair. There were plenty of normal chairs free, but only one comfy chair. And if you've ever been to Starbucks, you'll know that comfy chairs are always at a premium. A guy came over, we'll call him FRC (for reasons which will become clear by the end). He had just bought a cup of coffee (in a take-away cup, I might add. VAT avoider, obviously). The conversation went something like this:
FRC: Excuse me, is that seat taken.
Me: Yes, it is. I'm saving it for someone.
FRC walks away for a moment...
FRC: Have they bought their drink yet?
Me: Sorry?
FRC: Have they bought their drink yet?
Me: No. They're not here yet, but I'm saving it for them.
FRC: Well, in that case I'll take it. I'll move out of your vicinity.
Me: No, I'm sorry, as I said, I'm saving it for someone.
FRC: Well that's not really fair is it. I'm here, and I've got my drink, so I'm going to take the seat.
Me (in my head): It's not the only fucking chair in the shop, piss off out of our personal space.
Me (aloud): (nothing - fucking wuss)

Anne just looked at me in complete shock after this exchange as I tried to restart our conversation. He sat there for about 10 minutes, messing around on his PDA and drinking his coffee from his cardboard cup. Then he got up and left. All the time he was there I was just praying for Alison to turn up so I could turf him out. As soon as he left Anne and I looked at each other and said in unison "What a CUNT", and then spent a good few minutes laughing at the total synchronisation in saying it. Yes, if you haven't guessed by now, I called him FRC because he was a Fucking Rude Cunt.

That totally ruined the Starbucks mood, and we moved on to Coffee Republic in Waterstones. Not quite as prestigious as Starbucks, but still cool in its own right. It had coffee and tea, and it had a cute-ish waitress, even if she was quite clearly running on autopilot (who could blame her, working in the centre of Birmingham two weeks before Xmas).

The strange thing about this time was that there wasn't so much in our discussions that was amusing or bitchy, or any other form that I'd repeat here. The various things that have been going on recently lead to much more personal discussions, so I'm afraid there aren't as many amusing anecdotes. Although surely the FRC incident more than makes up for that.

We wandered around HMV a bit, once again indulging in our favourite sport of looking at DVD covers that suggested that the contents veered towards femslash. Bend It Like Beckham was a favourite. The two friends tussling on the cover look like their friendly tussle is about to turn into something a little more slashy. I'd spotted this before but thought it was just my male perviness applying wishful thinking, but Anne assured me that it was also suggestive to pervy lesbians.

Finally we all had dinner in Bella Pasta. I was tired enough by that point that I don't remember much in the way of anecdotal episodes, but it was a cool meal. Oh, and I have to mention before Anne mentions it for me and makes it seem like I'm covering up, that we were all convinced the waiter in Bella Pasta fancied me.

And on the train on the way home, it stopped at far more stops than were advertised. Not particularly fascinating, but worthy of comment to a pedant like me.

All in all a very cool day.