My good wishes were somewhat leavened with bitterness after he suggested we meet in Vinyl Exchange, knowing very well that this is like scattering coke around in a Betty Ford clinic. By the time he turned up, I'd hoovered up two Kris Drever LPs and one of Cajun dance tunes. Don't worry, I can give up any time. £250 for a Meic Stevens LP? You must be joking. Rare in England perhaps, but they litter Welsh charity shops!
After a brief interlude while Neal bought trousers (yes, we lead a glamorous life), Ben took us to Oklahoma, a cool little backstreet bohemian coffee bar, then off we went to meet Mrs Cynical. Gradually acquiring more friends: the recently engaged Alison of this parish (romantic post not weakened at all by her revelation that this declaration of love was produced by a shambling drunk at three in the morning, clothed only in his boxers - it's the blogger's way), and Caroline, who invites you all to buy her house in Salford.
We dined, flatulently, in the Armenian Taverna near Manchester Town Hall. If you like flavoursome salads and meat as far as your intestines will stretch, it's definitely the place for you. It certainly pleased me mightily.
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