Our common goal was waiting for the world to end

So, Tuesday was the Frank Turner gig.  As The Empire doesn’t have draught lager, I went to one of the local craft pubs before the gig.  There, a couple asked if anyone knew where The Empire is, so I said I was going to the gig and would be their tour guide.  Nice couple.  They were up from Sheffield for the gig.  They also had pot, so I got stoned for the first time in over a decade.

The support acts were Jess Guise (AKA Mrs Turner) and Micah Schnabel.  I can’t tell you what they were like because of the amount of fucking twats talking through them.  I absolutely hate that.  I bought a tour t shirt, a sticker (which I bought to put on my laptop, but it’s too big) and a t shirt by Jean Speckman.

Then it came to the Frank set and it was great.  It was mostly older stuff that I haven’t heard live in person, so I was very happy.  Afterwards, my two new friends were wanting to wait for Frank, so I did to.  He chatted for ages and was happy to sign autographs and stand for pictures.  Which is when I got the pic at the top, which I’m reposting here because OD is doing the cropping thing:

My new friends disappeared (hope they got back to the hotel OK) so I went to the pub and then home.

(If you want to hear Frank live, and I recommend you do, him, Jess and Micah are live streaming a gig on his FB page tomorrow [8:30pm GMT, 4:30pm on the East Coast, 1:30pm on the West Coast and 7:30am in Australia] to make up for cancelling the tour.)

Friday, I had to go get my phone sorted because it wouldn’t let me make calls.  Which was annoying.

Saturday, I went to a creative writing workshop for a mentorship thing the organisers are running.  I really want to enter, but the people chosen have to pay £100.  I’ll probably just enter then burn that bridge when I come to it.

I picked up my order for the first three books in the Hitchhikers Guide trilogy, then went for a swim.  I was supposed to be going to a screening of The Room, but the organiser has a bad cold, so it was postponed.  So I stayed home and watched Scott Pilgrim again.  (Hence the title.)

Sunday I didn’t go for a swim because I got up too late.

Today I had to sign on and they were rushing people through for obvious reasons.

Ahhh, yes, Covid-19.

I won’t talk about our PM’s press conference today, because it’ll turn into a rant about how he’s fucking over pubs, clubs and restaurants.

So, how’s it affecting me?

Well, the problem with having an illness that the doctor can’t diagnose is that I have not the slightest fucking idea whether or not I have a compromised immune system.  I’m waiting for the inevitable email from the organisers of the Sci-Fi Weekend to say it’s cancelled.

Thankfully, they’re not forcing over 70’s to self isolate.  Because I know my parents.  My mum will be driven crazy being cooped up in the house all day and my dad would be driven crazy by mum.

And, it turns out, my sister is self isolating.  Which sucks (especially knowing my nephew).  It also kind of screws me as well.

You see, I had a plan.  I ordered my mums Mothers Day present to be delivered to the Waterstones in Aberdeen.  My sister, or my brother in law, would then go and pick it up and give it to mum on Sunday.  Course, that’s not happening now, so my mum is going to pick up her mothers Day pressie.

Will