I never thought I would see my favourite band Blink-182, an American rock band from the 90s, especially after I missed them at Leeds Festival recently, which was the closest they came to headlining in my hometown of Hull. However, I discovered they had two more shows in the UK, but they were both in Glasgow, a long trip from Hull.
Nonetheless, out of curiosity and with little hope of buying them, I looked on Ticketmaster to see if they had any tickets left and to my surprise they did. I checked the train times, which were running all day, and this wish of mine was becoming more of a reality. With the band based mainly in the US, I could not miss my chance.
I am not yet 16, but, encouraged by Kirsty Allsopp’s son’s interrailing adventures in Europe, I wondered how hard it could be. I had never been out of Hull on my own and had never changed trains on my own but, as it turned out, it was not that hard. I only had to get to Scotland, negotiate four trains, and run the risk of one at least one of these being affected by strike action. Oh, and one of these trains was the last one out of Glasgow to Edinburgh and then, after a long wait, on to Hull. If I missed that it was curtains and, as you have to be over 18 to check in to a hotel belonging to a major chain, I had no hope of finding a warm bed.
The next step was to persuade my mum to give me permission to go up and see them, which she happily did as it was an early birthday present. I then asked my Grandad (a regular contributor these pages) to book the trains, which he happily did while I booked the tickets for the concert. Grandma, however, was not happy. With the tickets secured, it was now ‘Operation don’t-make-a-cock-up-of-it’.
I downloaded detailed floor plans of each station, which included how to get to the platforms and the timings of my departures. The journey up was not problematic, with one change in Manchester, but the way back was more complicated: I had to get the last train to Edinburgh Waverley at midnight and then find somewhere to wait nearby, Waverley being closed till 4am. My grandparents, who have lived in Scotland, said this was not the best place to loiter. I could come back with a criminal record and no belongings. Grandma was still not happy.
The first option was the waiting rooms, but they too were closed til 4am, and the second was sitting in McDonald’s til 3am, which would have given me an hour to wait until the station opened. Despite Grandma still not being happy, this became my plan, until the morning of my departure when one of my Grandad’s friends got wind of my plans and got in touch and arranged to pick me up and allow me to stay at his house until my train at 5.48am. Grandma slightly happier now.
Happily, the trains up to Glasgow were all on time, albeit with a 15-minute delay, but this was to Glasgow Central anyway, so I didn’t have to worry about missing my next train. Part one of the adventure was accomplished. I now had to find a place to eat; the local Wetherspoons beckoned.
The next potential set-back was discovering the age limit for the concert: the minimum age was 14, but under-16s had to be accompanied by an adult. This is where I could see an awful turning point and if I didn’t get in, the whole journey would have been a waste of time (but possibly a funnier article!). I had to resort to one of the oldest tricks in the book: do not shave, do not look nervous while queueing, act like you’re mingling with a group of adults, and wear something that makes you look grown up.
I made my way to the OVO Hydro arena, which I found with Google Maps, and started queuing. There were plenty of people who looked a similar age to me, some even younger, so I was reasonably confident heading towards the door. A quick search, with no questions asked and I was in: mission accomplished. My seat was high up with a great view and the support act, The Story So Far, was not on for too long. The changeover took almost an hour, but once Blink-182 came out it was the most incredible and entertaining thing I have watched; worth every penny and all the hassle.
The show finished at exactly 22.15, so this gave me enough time to get to Queens Street Station, where I was able to board an earlier train than I expected, which got me to Waverley Station, where my Grandad’s friend picked me up. I had a few hours’ sleep, had some grub and headed to the station, where my train was waiting for me on time.
The mission was complete and with a change in York, where it’s hard to miss a train to Hull, I was back home, unscathed; with a brilliant experience and a memory I will treasure forever. Not quite interrailing in Europe, but I have learned a lot and I’m happy to report that Grandma is, now, also happy.
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It’s never been that clear to me what “covid” is – a ragbag of symptoms that evolved over time, much like many other vague illnesses, and a “test” that was suspiciously rushed out, forced on people and used for political purposes with little consistency of criteria. So I am equally unclear what “Long Covid” is – how do you tell if you “have” “it”? I guess if you have a “viral illness” sometimes you don’t fully recover immediately but the effects can drag on for some time – I believe that’s a known phenomenon – let’s call it “Long Flu”. Does “Long Covid” differ from “Long Flu” in its effects? How “long” is “long”? How prevalent is “Long Flu”? Is “Long Covid” more or less prevalent or debilitating than “Long Flu”? I can quite believe that these “vaccines” make people less healthy, but without answers to some or all of my questions, I can’t attach any significance to talk of “Long Covid”.
Post viral fatigue, Yuppie Flu, etc. were some of the names for it.
Indeed – they may well be a “thing” but if “long covid” hasn’t really added to the prevalence, length or severity of “post viral fatigue” in the same way that “covid” wasn’t much more than a bad flu season, why do we care about “long covid” or even give this particular form of “post viral fatigue” a special name?
Well I test positive for ‘Long Over Covid’ because I’m well and truly long over it, I tell you.
In fact, I’m trying to envisage a time in the near future when the dratted C word will no longer be a part of every day parlance, as far as the stupid press go anyway. Nobody I know even mentions the word anymore, to be honest.
I also want to fast-forward to a time when the word “lockdown” is once again only ever mentioned in the context of prisons.
Lol.
Until recently it was rarely mentioned in my presence, but as I stated elsewhere Christmas seems to have caused a Pavlovian bout of covidians testing themselves.
Long Covid is more likely an excuse for staying at home having hand outs from the government. The very same people who loved being locked up in their houses while on furlough
‘Long’ – scary viruses living forever – waiting to attack you.
Long smallpox.
Long polio.
Long syphillis.
Long STD.
Longest stupid.
Ah, Long Covid.
Mainly suffered by Guardian readers.
Stop reading the thing and, voila, you will become healed.
IMHO, one of the key questions should be whether or not said apparent sufferers read the Guardian or not.
Mass psychosis at its finest.
You can get a dose of it way higher than normal exposure through shedding. I never took the vax obviously but I have had persistent illness ever since 2021. Might be other environmental factors but I developed huge overnight sores in my mouth so extreme that two of my erstwhile health teeth fell out. And the attack on my mouth was immensely painful like a huge gaping wound. Similar sort of tissue in the upper palate as the heart and Mr Spike has a predilection for it. I can forgive the vaxxed for this. The masses never know what they do. The overlords are a different matter entirely of course.
It sounds odd but some of the more damaging effects of this pathogen can be stopped by tricyclic antidepressants. Just google it if you are interested. I used that method with remarkable success. 30 mg of dothiepin stopped the attack and the pain and the further assault. This strange interaction has been noted and studied if you look it up.