My second gig of the week - and final gig of the year - was James, a triumphant hometown performance at the Manchester Evening News Arena on Saturday night. It was, as James gigs always are, a memorable event - packed with hits, and highlights from the two albums they released earlier this year (The Night Before and The Morning After). As somebody always remarks at a James gig, you forget how many great singles they've had. Not just the obvious ones like Sit Down, She's A Star and Laid, but stirring and inspirational tracks like Sometimes, Say Something, Come Home and my personal favourite (it brings a tear to my eye if I'm in the right mood) Tomorrow.
For a while though, it looked like I might not make it to this gig at all. All because of the weather... and the weather forecasters.
I'm starting to think weather forecasters should not be trusted. I'm starting to think they haven't a clue what they're talking about. I'm starting to think they should all be taken out in the street and shot.
To be fair, the rest of the country seems to have suffered quite badly in the weekend's snow, while our own little pocket of the Pennines (West Yorkshire and Manchester) appears to have escaped relatively unscathed. The forecasters though, they were determined to sow fear in all our hearts. All last week they were giving out dire warnings that the snow would stop me getting across to Manchester... so I decided to be on the safe side and post the tickets to Dave (who lives on t'other side of the hills) so that at least one of us would be able to go.
The tickets didn't actually arrive till Wednesday (bloody slack promoters!) so on Thursday morning I popped into the Post Office (well, I say 'popped' - what I actually mean is waited half an hour to be served, though not in a queue as our post office doesn't believe in queues anymore, they now operate a rubbish numbered ticket system). Knowing that the Christmas post is unreliable, I chose the Guaranteed Next Day Delivery option...
"That'll be £5, please. Oh, and because of the snow, they've lifted the guarantee."
"Hang on... so what exactly are you charging me £5 for then?"
"Well, they'll try their best to get it there... but if they can't, because of the snow, they won't refund you or pay you any compensation."
"So what's the difference between just sending it First Class for 35p?"
"Oh, that wouldn't be guaranteed at all."
"But this isn't guaranteed at all."
"No, but they'll try their best."
If the tickets didn't arrive Friday, chances are Dave wouldn't be able to go to the gig either. But if I didn't take the risk and it snowed, neither of us would be able to go. So I paid the £5 and crossed my fingers.
On arriving home, I checked the weather forecast again. It had been revised. All mention of Heavy Snow had lifted for our area. If this new forecast was to be believed, the tickets would arrive no problem, wearing sunhats and bikinis. But if this new forecast was to be believed, I needn't have sent them Special Delivery in the first place.
The new forecast was, for once, accurate (minus the sun hats and bikinis). The tickets arrived, I got across the Pennines, the snow stayed away (mostly - though the rest of the country has descended into a new Ice Age) and all was well.
See, I'm not just here to tell you about when things go wrong. Every now and then, they don't. I still had to pay a fiver for absolutely no reason at all... but it could have been worse. It could always be worse.
