Assuming we get there in the current weather (and there's no guarantee on that), Vanessa and I are off to Manchester later for the the third and final leg of the Whites' Christmas Concert Triple-Header.
And hopefully we're saving the most spectacular till last, because it's the Pet Shop Boys.
I've only got two of their albums and one of those is their greatest hits CD. But they're one of those bands I've always wanted to see and, thankfully, Vanessa agreed to buy into the plan.
Indeed, rather than simply buy in, she decided to make it into something much more significant because tonight will be the first full night that both of us have spent away from Jamie. I've been away for a handful of nights over the last 18 months and so has Vanessa, but never together.
His Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike have the dubious honour of looking after him and it's obviously important that he's good if we're ever to get away again. Regular prayers are likely to be said.
But back to this hotel. Vanessa's got a well-deserved reputation for finding a good deal and she's managed to unearth a particularly bizarre one on this occasion. Basically, she got us into a rather plush establishment for the paltry sum of £20 (they'd run out of £10 rooms). But the catch is that you have to spend £75 in the restaurant, which doesn't open until 7pm and the support act is due on stage down the road at the MEN Arena only 30 minutes later.
We're not particularly worried about seeing the warm-up, only the main event. But we're still going to have to eat, drink and drink a bit more fairly swiftly if we're to make it on time. That said, I've faced many more unpleasant challenges than this down the years.
Now then, where's my pointy hat...
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