Friday 11th February 2022

Welcome to Mars it's open all hours.

What are we doing here?

After a few weeks of doing little, and only a couple of gigs in two years, we suddenly have two on consequtive nights, one in Canterbury and one in Deal.

And it was the last working day of the week. Friday. I was all caught up, and the apple of my boss' eye, by all acounts.

Friday night we would be going to Canterbury, meeting my friend Pete from work, having a meal, a pint, and then go to see Avant Garage band, Pere Ubu in concert, doing their take on the Canterbury Tales. In Canterbury.

But first, the working day.

It is reporting season in Denmark. Financial reporting season, so on Wednesday we had La Grande Fromage give his talk, and on Friday it was the turn of the COO, which went as well as expected. Much for us all to do in relation of quality. And apparently, yours truly is central to that, somehow.

Eeek.

After than is our departmental weekly social, with life returning to normal in Denmark and India too, though vaccinations are in short supply there.

But life goes on.

I have a few loose ends to tie up, including a question relating to my travel expenses. In short if my boss isn't satisfied with my explaination as to his decision to cancel the team meeting in December, then I will have my company credit card taken off me, which mean I couldn't travel any more.

Seems more like a carrot than the stick he thinks it is.

I have some very thin toast for breakfast and lunch.

And soon there is just an audit closing meeting to sit through. I try my hardest to concentrate. Honest I do.

And at half two, I am done for the week.

I was putting the computer away when Jools returns from Tesco having hunted and gathered on her way home. I make a coffee.

Other hot news was that I was halfway through making a last post-festve batch of mince pies.

Needing to allow them to cool down meant that we needed to wait half an hour before being able to take said pies out of the tin to eat. This meant a fresh brew was needed.

So it goes, so it goes.

By which time it was time to leave for Canterbury. The sun had set and it was getting dark, but having been a glorious day, the sky was a wonderful mox of blues and pinks as the sun sank lower over the horizon and dusk fell.

We parked near the castle, then walked through the back streets before cutting through to Westgate, over the river and through the gate itself to the West station where Pete's train would be arriving at half five.

We had been looking somewhere to eat on the way and had narrowed it down to about 30 or 40 restaurants.

Life can be hard.

We watch the trains cross the main road, and soon I spot Pete on the other side of the road, on his mobile, calling me. Which I hadn't heard.

Oi, oi saveloy! I shout, and he comes over.

As we walk back to the centre, we discuss where to eat, and in the end we agree on the Turkish place on the way to Westgate.

Pete and I have kebabs, not in a pita, but in a bowl and with herbs and spices. Classy, like.

We get a fre salad to share, and it is all rather mavelous.

Next up, was the need for a pint. I had spooted a micropub and brewhouse down on Stour Street, so we go there.

I have a half of their "nitro" porter, which came in at 9.6%.

Yes, you read that right.

It was good, but the sourness of the beer rreally smothered the vanilla flavour added in the mashing. A good attempt though.

It was twenty to eight, the gig started in 20 minutes, and we had to get out to the University.

We walk back to the car, then go round the inner ringroad, back past the station where we met Pete and up the hill.

Parking should have been easy, but the lot near the theatre was full, so we had to park at a place a ten minute walk away, then find our way back up, hoping we would find the car three hours later.

We go in and find our way past the main arena to where the gig was, entering as the support band were finsihing their set.

And now the ghost of Pere Ubu it was announced.

Pere Ubu lead singer and mastermind, Dave Thomas was wheeled on stage in a wheelchair. He has had a hard few years, two health crisis, he's lucky to be here. We're lucky he's here.

They do one song and the stage is cleared as the main act was set up.

Pere Ubu have been going since the mid-70s, and have had a large troupe of members passing through. Thomas is the only everpresent member, is the singer and main songwriter.

They come back on, and the rest of the ban get him on a stool, and the gig starts.

Some of the music could be described as "challenging", I was worried that Pete wouldn't like it, before Mnday he hadn't heard of them, but the musicianship on show was wonderful, especially the drummer who did some great work.

Behind the band a film, or clips of films from the 1950s were shown, tinted and damaged. Artistic, like.

Each song begain with an spoken word intro, before the band leapt in.

90 minutes rattled along, and soon it was all done.

We file out and walk back through the desserted campus to the car. We set Pete's postcode in the sat nav and we set off on a grand tour of Kent's back lanes en route for Thanet.

We drop him off in Dumpston, between Broadstairs and Margate, then we had to find our way through Broadstairs and Ramsgate back to the main road to Sandwich then to Dover and home.

We get back at ten past midnight.

Saturday.