I heart the M1...

Today sees me shoot up the M1 to Sheffield, home of snooker tournaments, two types of Cocker – Joe and Jarvis, and many, many steep hills. On the face of it, I am going to my aunts 70th birthday party on Sunday. My aunt is a very interesting lady. I think it is fair to say that her life began after her husband, who spent what seemed like years, building a barge in front of the house, ordered some vehicle to take it away, hopped on said vehicle with said barge and never came back. My aunt has morphed her way through many incarnations since that day including art student, stand up comic – the beautifully monikered Betty Spittle (www.fatreg.com/reading1991/Rdg1991.html), masseuse and intrepid traveler - her recent posts from the depths of Patagonia were something to behold. So whilst I can hardly wait to salute my wonderful aunt, a lady who made her biggest impact on me when at the age of fifty, she dyed her hair fuscia pink, I must also confess that my little story telling antenna are a-twitch at the thought of the variety and sheer scope of party guest in attendance this Sunday at the Showroom Cinema complex in the centre of Sheffield. With pen and notebook in hand, lets see just what a Sunday afternoon party in the wilds of Oop North can turn up. Put it this way, if the Arctic Monkeys turned up, I wouldn’t be surprised.