What kind of idiot runs out of petrol?

This kind of idiot.

I used to mock people who allowed such a foolish thing to happen on their watch, and mock with relish. You have a gauge, a warning light, and basic arithmetic, you'd have to be a major pleb to find yourself stuttering to a halt on a very inconvenient road through the centre of Leeds. Well, I take it back, mostly, it turns out all you have to be is a little overly frugal, to go with what's in your pocket and hope for the best. Well, we made it to the gig in the end, and while I was jogging across Leeds for fuel, Jonny Swift left me a nice note to read every time my windscreen steams up.

From where I sat the whole day was a bit like this, always on the edge of going the wrong way but never quite tipping. The ninety minutes it took us to get out of Preston thanks to the school run, the traffic that circled Manchester and the works in the road as we approached Leeds' city walls, the temporary breakdown and guesswork navigation, the lack of soundcheck and genuine fear that we may end up playing simply to some darkened pool tables and disinterested cuesmiths.

But at every turn things just worked out, we arrived, the venue was good, the crowd were excellent, really excellent, and the night out after, well, I'm missing some important keys, my legs are cut, I've dull aches everywhere and the bank manager wants to have a word with me, but I'd do it again tomorrow if I didn't think it would break me.

Russ, The Under Estimator

Ten English Pounds, One schoolboy error

I have often wondered exactly how much it costs to drive from Preston to Leeds in a 1990s Citroen Xantia. At 6pm on Friday, one hour before we had to be at the evening's gig venue, I found out.

We had bought what we thought was enough petrol and thought nothing more about it until we coughed and spluttered to an embarrassing halt on a busy slip road precisely 1.6 miles from our destination.

Having pushed the car to safety, Russ set off walking to the nearest petrol station, a 2-mile round trip that funnily enough meant he would have been quicker walking to the venue.

Left to make our own amusement, me and Jonny stuck to the basics: "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with P..."

Premier Inn. Yes. Oh, and a sign next to the car that reads "No parking at any time". So, whether we made the gig at all depended on who arrived at the car first, Russ or the wheel clamping company.

Russ arrived first. The gig went well. I'd recommend The Elbow Room both as gig a venue and as a drinking establishment. I'd also strongly recommend the Cockpit as somewhere to go afterwards.. despite what the rest of Leeds will tell you.

All's left is to say thanks to everyone who came, took notice, took a cd, said nice things, let us sleep at their houses, looked after our gear and gave us directions to the nearest petrol station.

Oh, incidentally, it costs about a tenner to drive from Preston to Leeds in a 1990s Citroen Xantia. Just over, to be precise.

Dan

Eh? Unending loops

The title of this blog has nothing to do with what I'm about to write about. I just wanted to share the fact I spent yesterday at the recording of TV show, Countdown. The title is an anagram, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to work it out.

I'll have a Consonant

G

Vowel

I

Consonant

G

It is time for another gig. This time we return to my hometown, Leeds. I like Leeds for a variety of reasons, one of them being the music it has on offer. It's great to be getting back involved in it and checking out the new places that have cropped up. Tomorrow, we'll be playing at the Elbow Rooms, a venue I have yet to play at. I have been before so know what to expect but always good to experience the other side. Why don't you come and share this experience?

Andy