Matt Tuckey is a writer from Oldham, England. He covers celebrities, night life, Manchester, fitness, creative writing, social media, psychology and events. Some of this may, in some way, help others. Or maybe it'll just entertain you for a while.
I've
just spent the last month preparing for National Blog Posting Month, or
#NaBloPoMo2018, taking place over November. The idea is to post to
your blog every day of the month. Blogger Amie Clouse is overseeing the
challenge on her blog, Blissful Lemon.
She's introducing the concept of 'Create30,' the principle of still
uploading every day but not restricting oneself to blogging, so
introducing other mediums like animation, knitting and photography.
This
year, like last year, I'm writing to the theme of 'excess,' the idea
that there is more than enough in life to keep you busy, meaning
there's more than enough to write about. I may diversify into some of
the above creative mediums.
October
was a chance to prepare for this, with the intention of watching
films on the theme of excess- rich people partying, messing their
lives up, and making extreme decisions.
Whether
I'll use that as a template for the next month remains to be seen.
Unfortunately,
I didn't get to do much of this research as the streaming sites I
used last year have largely been shut down, and I'm not on Netflix or
the like. I was already reading The Sum of All Fears, a thousand-page
war novel by Tom Clancy (still am), and I've been busy sorting out a
holiday to Amsterdam and a long-term dispute with HMRC- both of which
are behind me now. But, over the course of the month I met an
astronaut, found out my colleague's dad beat up a well-known singer,
watched a friend of mine on TV, attended a gym launch with a load of
soap stars, photographed a building I used to work in before it got
knocked down, signed onto a 5K run and started training for it, went
to the opening night of a Deansgate bar and met a soap star there,
and followed a Jamie Oliver recipe.
And
that's just the preparatory month.
This
is the 17th post this month. I'm perhaps in danger of
running out of ideas, making this year's NaBloPoMo more challenging
than the last. It'll be more difficult on account of my phone camera
refusing to work. Not sure what to do about that to be honest. The
real work starts tomorrow. Last year I managed 30 in 30. Will I this
year...?
The
Oldham branch of support group Andy's Man Club has gone from strength to
strength over the last year, supporting men with depression. Now the
group has reached a certain size, we need a bigger venue than our
current host can offer us. Oldham Sports Centre moved us between
three different rooms, the last of which was far from ideal, but now
Chadderton Wellbeing Centre have stepped up and offered us a space.
The
meeting will run in the same format at the same time, just a little
further out of town. Curious to see what our new room looks like.
I'll be doing a workout beforehand too, so I'm curious to stick my
nose around the rest of the centre too.
š£ANNOUNCEMENTš£
WE’RE
MOVING
Due to the overwhelming success of @andysmanclubuk
in Oldham we have had to relocate to larger premises
Our
new venue is at Chadderton Wellbeing Centre , Burnley Street,
Chadderton, OL9 0JW starting this Monday 29th October 2018 7pm #ITSOKAYTOTALKpic.twitter.com/lw9JYN8OtE
Also,
did anyone see The Bi Life on E!? If
not, here's the pilot:
It's
basically Love Island with bisexuals, so hardly original but an
entertaining reality TV dating gameshow nonetheless. One of the contestants is Daisie Lou Thilwind,
who I met about a year ago through a friend. She's cool.
Daisie is on the left
The
pilot was great and Daisie came across really well. Here's wishing
her all the best!
Finally,
something open to all adults: Manchester Cool Bars are heading out to
the Northern Quarter on Saturday night. We're starting in The Daisy,
a quirky cocktail bar under
Evelyn's on Tib
St.
My
colleague told me this story about her dad, and it's too good not to
share. We'll call him LD.
Glasgow,
some time in the 1960s. LD is managing the Crazy Daisy, a popular
casino and occasional celebrity haunt. One night, in walks 'Perfect
Day' singer Lou Reed. He's sat at one of the tables, talking to a
group of women. They're trying to bag a celebrity, of course, but he
starts to make some lewd comments about their appearance.
The
women are evidently uncomfortable with these continuous remarks, so
LD steps in and politely asks him to cool it.
Well,
Reed doesn't take too kindly to this, and gets out of his chair. “Who the FUCK do you think
you're talking to?” he asks, squaring up.
Within
seconds, the two of them have a hold of each other and the fight ends
up on the floor, shirts pulled untucked and brylcreamed hairstyles
dishevelled. Security dives in and they're separated quickly.
LD
didn't mention if Reed was thrown out. I expect he was.
I'm
sure my colleague said this all happened in Glasgow, but Google only
suggests a nightclub in Sheffield in the 70s. Whether I'm remembering
wrong, or it's just not documented, I don't know.
After
months of meetings and phone calls with TJ at Welfare Rights, I'm
back on Working Tax Credits. It's taken years of hard work. I've
heard numerous other advisors telling me I can't have it. It's taken
a lot of arguing with HMRC (TJ being the most effective at this),
bagfuls of lever arch files full of paperwork, hours of phone calls
and loads of meetings. But the money is going into my account.
There
have been a few contradictions in the various letters that HMRC have
sent me in the last 2 weeks, saying I am, then I'm not, eligible.
Hopefully things will now continue as they are for the foreseeable.
As mentioned in previous posts, it's hit-and-miss as to whether your
advisor will be able to help you, but TJ has been superb and I'm glad
I booked that appointment all those months ago.
Nikki Sanderson, Candice
Stowe in Coronation Street, Dawn Bellamy in Heartbeat and Maxine
Minniver in Hollyoaks.
Nikki Sanderson
The
smart new boutique gym occupies the ground floor of the building,
around the back of the Waterhouse Wetherspoons pub. Discreetly tucked
away, it's a great-looking private members facility with plenty of
hi-tech equipment.
The
gym's unique feature is the Fit3d Bodyscan, a
machine which will digitally render your body and break down your
fats, muscle and posture. Just enter your email on the screen, strip
to underwear and stand in the airport-scanner-sized tube (don't
worry, it's opaque and there's a changing area). These details are
then immediately emailed to you. Despite going to the gym 6 times a
week, the scan shows I'm edging on the 'needs improvement' area of
the scale. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the giant bars
of Galaxy I demolish, could it?
Zanies
provided some tasty healthy treats on the night. The Stockport health
cafe served up a mini buffet of tasty protein balls and bitesize
healthy cakes.
Another
great launch by Go:PR. Check out the
M.E.N writeup here. Can't
believe I couldn't talk anyone into a chin-up competition though.
I've
been meaning to try out Amsterdam since I first saw Pulp Fiction in
perhaps 1998, in which John Travolta and Samuel L Jackson discuss
Dutch hash bars and the differences of the McDonalds in various
European cities.
This
month I finally got to go with a couple of mates.
We
flew in on Thursday afternoon and got a weekend tram pass to avoid
taxis, which, we were warned, were dear. We stayed in Hotel Blyss, which was dearer than I was
hoping for but was still a shithole. My friend's room had a handprint
on the wall above the bed from a previous horny occupant, the TV
didn't work plus the chair had a big rip in the side of it. She asked
to move to a different room, but the one she was shown was even worse
so she stuck where she was. My room wasn't much better.
Pretty
much the moment I got there, my main camera on my phone stopped
working. It intermittently came back to life, but for the most part I
had to resort to shooting in selfie mode, holding the phone the other
way. I've still not fixed it. Also, GiffGaff didn't seem to give me access to the internet
abroad, so I was catching up every time we got onto the hotel's WiFi.
We
made our way out to the town's bar area, and to
Favela,
a Brazilian-themed bar which was launching that night. The pictures
disguise this but it was the first of a few bars which were sparsely
attended. We didn't end up in the album as the photographer was being
weirdly picky. One guy asked him to take his picture and the
photographer refused.
Despite
it being a fairly standard wooden-fitted rum joint, they still
charged 50c to use the toilet.
Most
of rest of the weekend we spent sightseeing: the canals, the
windmill, the markets. The windmill was surprisingly central: we
hired bikes and rode out to it a mile or so from the bike rental. I
thought it would be out in the country somewhere, having remembered
this old Hitchcock movie.
There's
little point going to Amsterdam if you aren't going to try out the
legal drugs. I'm allergic to mushrooms so I passed on those, but I
still dropped into this cosy weed shop playing old-school Eminem, and
shared a joint with a friend. I'm not great at inhaling and coughed
my guts up a few times, but I definitely felt the effect. Obviously,
I made sure the cycling was out of the way first.
There
are more museums than you could get around in a weekend, so we
dropped into a tour guide shop and picked a few tickets. The Sex
Museum, a small but tall building, was worth the climbing to see the
paintings and Aztec dildos. If you like that kind of thing.
The
Banksy Museum was also well worth a look around, featuring chunks of
wall decorated by the covert graffiti artist, removed from the UK,
and various sculptures.
Noodle
bar Wok to Walk
was one of a few culinary delights the city had to offer. When you
place your order you're given this disc. When your order is ready
it'll light up and vibrate.
Later
that night we dropped into a few bars at one of the squares, where,
weirdly, my friend bumped into one of her travelling mates from
Devon, who she'd actually met some months ago in Miami. Small world.
What I wrote in my notes on my phone at the time: 'Ibiza prices in
Magaluf standard bars.' But at least Magaluf's bars had people in
them.
I
was hoping to get to the iconic Boiler Room, a house music club, but the
lineup was all hip hop and drum 'n' bass that weekend, so we passed.
The
next day the canal boat tour took us around the city. The local Dutch
guide's knowledge had a few holes in it but it was still an
informative, interesting excursion. This hotel had various famous
guests over the years. Nobody can remember who, though.
Later
that night we dropped into Club Air, a hip hop joint playing
mostly Dutch music, which made a change. Think of it as 'Dam's answer
to Manchester's History club, only
without the door policy. People were very casually dressed. We stood
out.
The
stairs to get in were ridiculously steep, like pretty much every set
of stairs in the town. Next to the DJ booth there was a separate
stall monitoring electronics with a digital decibel display. Weird.
The club took ages to fill but it was still a fun night.
If
you want to drink spirits, the bars and clubs, and the liqour stores,
are the only places you can get them. You can walk into a weed shop
and get high, but you'll find nothing stronger than wine in the
supermarkets or corner shops. Also weird.
The
next morning we had quick jaunt around the area before flying home.
I enjoyed the weekend but there was so much more to do that we
couldn't fit in: Boiler Room, the Ice Bar, Bodyworlds, Sky Bar, the
Torture Museum- all of it I made a note of for a possible second trip
in a year-or-so's time.
