And the medals go to... Although the British team got up at 5am, arriving at 7am, we were beaten to the gold medal position by Mr T from Japan, who'd got there at 6.40am. However, Britain won silver and gold, and America, whose 4 competitors had arrived at 2am from Sheffield, lost out on the medal podium as they were asleep in the car when everyone else arrived!

I don't know whose idea The Holy Sacred Queuing List is, but it's supported by all the people who get there early, so that if you need to go to the loo, book into a hotel, etc etc, you don't lose your place. All the early birds befriended a very lovely chap called Ben Phillips, who works in the Box Office, and who completely appreciated The List. At 5pm, he let us all stand in the VIP queue so we would get into the venue first, and fended off criticisms from the Johnny-Come-Latelys who moaned as they weren't on the list by saying that he had proof we'd all got there so early - we were on cctv! Which is quite embarrassing, when you think about it. Anyway, St Chris of Birmingham was there to reinforce the Sanctity of The Holy Sacred Queuing List, offered round sandwiches to everyone (even if he didn't know them), and lent us his copy of Mojo. The man is a diamond.

Us three had deckchairs, which was a nice change from sitting on concrete for 12 hours, although Gary Day seemed to find it amusing. It was such a nice day, though, that periodically people would sit in the sunshine on the daisy-spangled grass verges of the car park. Hugh had his dog with him, who scampered merrily about, being spoilt by everyone. For people who think that gig queuing is a bit sad, it's just like hanging out with your mates, except you're doing it... sat outside a gig venue. Ben let us use the loos during the day, which was really kind of him.

Spotting the band arrive
* Jed driving by in a car, eating crisps.
* Gary driving past, and stopping his car to point out the window at the women in the deckchairs. Who, us?
* Boz driving past. Or it might have been his guitar-tech/brother, seeing as it might have been Boz in the back of Gaz's car. Or maybe it was Boz's guitar-tech/brother in Gaz's car. We just don't know.
* Moz!!! This swanky minibus-cum-Winnebago drove up, and it was pretty obvious that he would be ferried in so dignified a fashion. The bus stopped, and the driver shouted at Hugh, "You got a licence for that dog?" and then drove off. However, Morrissey has such a recognisable profile that you could see him sitting in the back with the window slightly open, having a peek at the queuers. Bless!
* Apparently Boz's guitar-tech isn't his brother. It's a bloke called Lloyd Trip who just looks a lot like him. And has written a song about washing his... ahem... 'kegs'.

Most Embarrassing Moment of My Life So Far This Year I nipped to the loo, and heard "How Soon Is Now" being soundchecked with my knickers round my ankles. How happy I was! The Tshirt merchandise man had set up and had put a big board outside, so I couldn't nip through the gap in the rope barrier: I decided to step over it. Except it was a bit too high. So I got one foot over, and for some stupid, unco-ordinated mildly dyspraxic reason, I caught my foot on the post and fell over. Well, falling over would've been less embarrassing. I FLEW ACROSS RECEPTION IN A BRIGHT RED ITALIAN CYCLING SHIRT. T-shirt Man, or it might've been Moz's driver, I was too ashamed to notice, shouted something. "You'll never ??????? like that!" I didn't hear properly. I was lying on my back with my hands over my eyes, groaning, "I'm really sorry, I've violated Health & Safety." All these roadie etc types were laughing, Ben was laughing, and the receptionists were laughing - one of them was on the phone and was laughing so much she had to say to the caller, "I'm sorry - someone's just fallen over in reception." Please note that not one person stirred themselves to help me up, or see if I was ok. They were all too busy laughing, which is exactly like the time I nearly drowned when I fell into a harbour in Belgium. When it comes to public self-humiliation, I wrote the manual.

How do you leave a situation like that with dignity? I pulled myself up and said, "This always happens. I'm too clumsy to live. And I'm a professional librarian. It just isn't fair." And I smiled, put my glasses back on, and went outside and flung myself on the daisies and groaned. I spent the next half an hour berating myself for being such a berk. "If I'd come out of the toilets with my trousers round my ankles, it would've been less embarrassing."

I don't know what was going through my head when I thought that getting a coach at 5am to get to the venue at 8am was a good idea. Why didn't anyone stop me? EH? EH?

Well, the coach was late. I didn't get until the cricket ground until 8:30. I was the first person in line and I think the security guards felt sorry for me as they kept me company until some other like-minded idiots showed up. And at 9 o'clock, someone did show up! Julia! Looking a bit pissed off that I was in front of her in the queue! Then I really did her nut in because the security guards let me inside the gates so I could go and have a piss in the proper toilets! SHOCKING! Somehow she still ended up in front of me by 3pm. As did four of her friends. Hmm.

The next person that showed up (not until 10! Christ, I felt like such an idiot!) was a lovely 16 year old girl from Salford (I thought she was so lovely in fact, that we had a snog during 'Irish Blood, English Heart'. MOZ BRNGS PPL 2GETHR!). The security guards gave us free beer that they had confiscated off people the day before. I was shocked that security guards could be so nice.

Lots of people started arriving at around 11, including a mad Scouse woman who had what seemed about 20 cans of Stella in her handbag and a guy from Brighton that told us all about the time he pissed himself whilst queuing up for a Smiths gig because he didn't want to lose his place (he also said "I could never go to a festival because I could never have a wank in a tent.". I'm not entirely sure where that came from but thanks anyway!).

The Girl From Salford and I got to Blackpool at about 10am but it took us about an hour to find the venue. Now, we all know how shit the sound is in this place but if you're into queuing up for gigs, this is place to do it. It's inside! It's heated! There are loads of toilets near by! Loads of drinks machines! And, if you get bored, there's one of those dance mats just next door (obviously you'd only do this if you had someone to hold your place, don't be stupid about it)! Brilliant.

We got our place in the queue, next to my lovely friend Roxanne (we weren't second, we were about 5th in the queue. Woe). but as the queue was still quite quiet, I went to get some chips. When I got back a group of lovely Irish people had joined the queue. We talked to them for quite a while, hearing loads of gossip about a certain person (and it wasn't Julia! For once!) and watching one of them use the dance mat in the amusements arcade opposite (at this point I may have actually peed myself from laughing so much). This was the day that I also met Helen of Helvissa fame for the first time! We wanted her to push in and sit with us but she has a brain and didn't really want to become Queue Enemy No.1.

About an hour before the doors opened Boz walked past the queue and I shook his hand. Bless his cotton socks. I'd love to cuddle him. After that Julia hobbled along on her walking stick.

Roxanne and I queued up from about 10am. It was stupidly cold and windy and my ex girlfriend was at the front of the queue. We were given our queue number by some man in front (good idea! Shame it was useless because everyone (and added pushers-in) got stuck behind another set of doors inside!) and some vegan scones by one of the women (it was vile, really). Helen of Helvissa fame joined us at about midday and kept us both sane.

We spotted a bloke with a quiff (and he was NOT going to the gig! CO-IN-SI-DENCE!) with a lady that looked like she was dressed in Bacofoil. We loved them but we have not seen them since. Helen nearly got into an argument with someone after she put up a Helvissa sticker on the wall and they tried to take it down. The guy behind us scared me slightly because he hadn't moved an inch all day, I was thinking that he may have frozen to death (I was wrong though! He was OK!).

Got to the venue at 11am. Drank rum and Coke in a bottle, got sunburned, Met Gary Day.

When I passed by the venue the day before and nearly ran into the stage truck I was shocked to see that people were already queuing at 11 a.m. for the Saturday concert. I hate queuing and feared the worst when I turned up at the theatre at 3 p.m. on Sunday, but there were only 20 people in front of me.

As I was one of the first 25 people I had to write my name on a list to guarantee that I got a wristband and was allowed to get to the front row (which I did - hehe). At one point I thought Jesse was walking by but as nobody said anything I kept quiet. Then Tony Visconti passed by and some blokes chatted to him. When Morrissey arrived for soundcheck people ran after his car. Later I decided to walk around a bit and listened to him soundchecking. Then people started to gather around the stage door. You'll probably call me insane but I didn't want to see/bother him. So I went back to the hotel for 30 minutes and was sure that he'd already be gone when I came back. Nope. I walked up the road, saw the car still standing there and uttered a heartily curse. Too bad I was just walking past Boz and someone else. I hope they didn't hear it but I blushed heavily nonetheless. Well, if they've heard it they now know what "goddamn shit" means in German. However, all I involuntarily saw of Morrissey was the back of his head. We can both live with that I think.

The gig: people were very well behaved, no pushing, no shoving. Guy next to me told me who Julia was, offered to lift me up and said Morrissey would certainly pull me up but I was horrified (nothing to do with Mr M of course). Moz and the band were fantastic.

I only queued from about 3pm for this one but I had good reasons 1) I only decided to go at about 10am that morning and 2) I didn't actually have a ticket.

Once again I was there swigging alcohol and reading a book. It was very dull. I wish I'd saved my train fare. I didn't get a ticket, I tried to just run in but that didn't work, I tried to get people to open the fire exists and let me in and at one point I was evening thinking about trying to crawl in through a window (please note that I wasn't on my own when I was doing all of this, there were about four others there trying to do the same).

Oh well, I still had a good night out in Manchester.