Now that's what I call music........

On Christmas Eve I vowed that I would not return to Chester-le-Street until Christmas Eve 2009. So far i've been there twice already. Once in January on a mis-adventure to watch Sunderland play Middlesbrough and today on a quest to find my GCSE certificates (they should tell you that one day you might actually need them. It cost £35 to replace them). I found them in a box in the cupboard under the stairs nestled with the really old encylopedia's I loved when I was a kid. There were loads of volumes but for some reason I only ever had a few of them. I definitely had "H" and "P" but "F" was my favourite. There were 2 pages which had pictures of all the flags of the world. For some reason they fascinated me. I think it was an early step towards my relentless gathering of pointless information which some day I will use for good in a pub quiz. It's quite similar to when my Grandad used to test me on all the names of English League football grounds on Friday nights when we used to stay over. This was usually followed by fish and chips and a night of Open All Hours, dominoes and cards. I loved those nights.

So, Chester-le-Street......It's a funny place. It used to be so busy all the time. But now, every time I go back the 'Street' is empty. Last time we went (for the football), front street was desolate. It was the week that Woolworths closed. It seemed to have a weird effect. Like for most of us that shop was always around. I'd buy toys and sweets there when I was little, and then it was the only place you could buy singles in the 90s when buying singles was a weekly occurance and not the rarity it is now. Anyway, I don't like going home. I don't really know why. Sometimes it feels a bit like defeat. By that I mean that I like to think i've evolved from the geeky, shy ginger girl I was then into a taller, awkward redhead! Chester carries a lot of ghosts. I know there are people I used to go to school with who haven't left....ever. They have their kids, their houses and inevitably their divorces. I don't want to be like that. I never have. But going home makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong and they are the ones that got it right. Maybe they did........I doubt it though.

Enough maudlin musings.
Whilst rummaging around in the loft this afternoon I found a big bag of tapes. Oh there were some hidden gems. Now 10!!!! Now 10!!! I can actually recall almost every detail about the day my dad bought it. It starts with Barcelona and I can picture me standing on the sofa giving it some opera....big style. It's a classic.

Right I'm going to stop whinging about nothing and watch a bit more of day 6. Go on Bauer!!!