We were at this concert in 2021.  I wondered where the video had disappeared to in the meantime. It was a splendid night of music and burnt into my memory for another reason. 

John’s Website

I told the story at the time …

Rather than drive to Manchester from Blackpool and have one of us sulk because he couldn’t have a drink, Keith and I decided to let the train take the strain. What a good idea we thought, we’ll have a few pints we thought, catch the last train back we thought, change at Salford and not stress about anything. That all worked quite splendidly until we set off home after the show, got off the train at Salford at 11.30 and looked for the advertised connection.

No train.

We asked the only rail employee we could find – “which platform does the Preston train leave from please?” “No more trains tonight, just one back to Manchester”. “But it’s on the timetable” “Sorry, there are no more trains” “Are you sure?” ” There are no more trains, other than one back to Manchester” “But…”

Stunned silence, anxious looks, neither of us had a phone. More silence. Hesitant discussion of options. Quick but fruitless search for taxi. Rail employee no help whatsoever. Rail employee disappeared. Empty station. Final train arrived, our only option, taking us to our unknown doom.

Back in Manchester we had a choice – hotel, taxi or sleep on a bench.

The taxi drivers lit up with delight when we told them we needed to get to Blackpool. The driver at the front of the taxi rank didn’t speak very good English and didn’t understand where we wanted to go. The driver of the second cab did speak good English and knew exactly what was involved – I could see the pound signs spinning in his eyes. It was quite funny watching his dilemma, he obviously wanted the fare for himself, but I think the first chap might have been his father-in-law, so he was a little conflicted. Anyway, we did the right thing, chose the first driver and of course we needed to pay the man before he would drive us anywhere. We tried counting those new ultra-slippery plastic notes, in the dark, in a strong wind, slightly drunk. We needed £140 and we didn’t have enough. But perhaps we did, and it just blew away, we’ll never know. A good job he had a credit card machine.

I think we will question that choice of driver for the rest of our lives, it’s quite likely that he was a retired fighter pilot. While still in Manchester, the speed bumps were ignored, and once on the motorway he used all four lanes plus the hard shoulder in a constant sideways swooping motion, a bit like ice skaters do to get up speed.  Have you ever taken the slip road off to the left then suddenly changed your mind and swerved back onto the motorway at full speed, crossing all the bumps and ridges in between? In a Black Cab? We have. Halfway along the M61 we began to scrabble for our seat belts – watch the film “Bullitt” and you’ll see what I mean. And guess what? Despite all the delays, we arrived back before the train that didn’t exist would have arrived if it had existed. Thank you, Mr very understanding but scary fighter pilot taxi man.”

Sorry, I’ve not written a silly story for a while , I must do something about that, life is getting too serious!