And so it came to pass, that this last weekend saw me celebrating the joint birthdays of Ma & Pa Sonic.
This involved a trip to sunny Liverpool via the Devil’s own highway, referred to in The Book of Revelations as the M62.
Never a relaxing drive, this. Lots of out-of-control lorries, their crazed, hell-bound drivers high on Full Metal Breakfasts, pornography and Pro-Plus tablets, death-racing battalions of t*ats in 4×4′s – for they are Legion.
And there’s me, strapped into the Sonic Chariot solemnly observing the speed-limit in the inside lane, praying to the twin-Gods of Guidance and Safe Passage. Added to this, the M62 takes us hapless travellers over some of the darkest, most desolate, rain-lashed and goddam spooky moors this side of American Werewolf in London.
Anyhoo, following my eventual arrival in the city of culture, a good time was had by all I think.
Food, drink, cake and candles – just as tradition decrees for us simple, God fearin’ folk born in the shadow of North-West England’s dark satanic mills.
Life is good pop-kids, life is good.