Like a nervous 17 year old, I’d bought my ticket for Matilda Mann ‘s gig in Manchester on the first day. Then I watched in horror as Mrs RM became her second biggest fan and wanted to come with me.

On the other hand, at least I wouldn’t look like one of those weird old blokes standing at the back watching “young people’s music” on my own.

Speaking of old blokes going to gigs, MumsNet has a cracker today..

I’m betting the band from the ’80s AREN’T Killing Joke. We saw a horde of septuagenarian punks on their way up the cobbled streets to the Salisbury pre-gig. Oddly, a pub that appeals as much to Mrs RM as me. I’m not actually sure she’s ever been in.

We weren’t heading there, but we DID skip the support so Mrs RM wasn’t made to stand for too long at the Deaf Institute, and to be honest pizza and Brass Castle at Sandbar never loses its appeal.

Glad to see it busy again with under and over grads, though not so busy I couldn’t investigate the Cabinets of Curiosity and what looks like a prison cell where people who ask for Bass are held.

Brass Castle, like the aforementioned Marble and Anarchy and Mallinsons produce lovely beers sometimes served just off its best when there’s too much else on the bar, but here the cask (Elvis Impersonator) and keg (Hoptical Illusion)* were superb. “Very Bad Kitty” said Mrs RM.

My notes say “Gets better and better” and “Blimey it’s strong (6.7%)”, both of which bode well for my future career as a beer critic, I feel.

You have to order your white pizzas at a little hatch and take a buzzer back to you table. Some people get very excited by the way we integrate technology into our lives.

I’m sure one of those buzzers was used as part of the percussion on Empire Song.

Great pizzas. Far too big, mind.

Anyway, now this is the only blog post in history to feature both Jaz from Killing Joke and Matilda Mann, which is a legacy of sorts.

We crossed the road to the gorgeous Deaf Institute, for my first gig since a Dutch war crimes lawyer sang songs about how daft it was we were leaving the EU.

We took the wrong stairs, and then were rather astonished to find spare seats at the back of the hall.

You know my view on sitting at gigs, and if if you don’t you can guess, but as Mrs RM was shortly to be driving me round pubs I though I’d humour her by sitting with her. It’s not the same. You’re much less likely to sing (and annoy people), for instance.

Matilda, though, is as good as when I went into meltdown in October.

I wept a bit during “Doomsday” and “As It Is”, two of the great songs of my life, but Mrs RM loved this one, which is all about men being useless. I wonder why.

*or possibly the other way round. Who cares ? It’s beer.


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