Monday, August 20, 2007

After all my good intentions, I haven't writted a single blog all week. So here goes it for the monster recap.











The journey started in Liverpool. I sat apprehensively in a little café having just applied my drag queen make-up. Then came my debut in the Cotton exchange, when I donned my dress properly for the first time.










In the Cotton Exchange we met Albert, the international cotton master, who seemed deeply underwhelmed by my endeavour at first. Three hours later, he was genuinely emotional and we said a teary goodbye over a cup of Yorkshire and a hobnob.




















After setting up by the port I was approached by some office workers on their fag break…




















"Are you getting married love?"


(in a pretentious voice) " Ha ha NO actually I am travelling along the old cotton trading route from Liverpool to Manchester, making a costume from the donations people give me along the way. Do you have anything you want to add to my frock?"





"Oh aye! Come 'ed… Back in a tick we'll run and grab sommat from upstairs."
(5 mins later)





"Here you go love can you sew this in. It's Terry's appointment card..he passed away last week."





"He was a sound lad Terry yeah."





Moving onto the evening parade. We walked past a seedy looking biker bar and my companion Ricardo the Lionheart goaded me to enter. The woman outside said: "Tell me its for a bet??!!"
"You won't make it out of there in one piece, I tell yuh"





2 hours later I was being serenaded by steve and was adorned with axe necklaces and guitar stickers. And as Buzz burnt a fag out in the palm of his hand, he declared to my right hand documentin' man "mind over matter!", eyeballing him affectionately.





DAY 2
THE canal trip. I piled onto the ship with a few hundred old giffers in tow. Handing me freshly laundered handkerchiefs to stitch and doddering around me constantly. Four hours in and my fake smile was starting to falter, but a few kind ladies taught me how to sew and brian the blue badge guide man was a restless pillar of support.





DAY 3
This morning at Styal mill I became at one with the museum and found myself being treated like a National Trust attraction du jour. On entering the mill one of the workers mistook me for a haunting vision of the past and pissed his pants. Later on some American tourists were deeply disappointed when I failed to deliver a blow by blow account of the Mill's history and only wanted to talk about my own mission. Later on still, I was doing my Timmy Mallet with great success, as the wee scampeteers flocked to expand my gown with their crazy doodles and shit.





CASTLEFIELDS and CANAL st
Hung out for a while, getting seriously mardy with my glamorous documenting assistant. After grumping around for a while I had a snooze under a bridge and dangled me tootsies over the canal for some fake looking pictures to be taken.


Canal St provided the usual plethora of talent. Starting with none other than the mighty Raymondo himself. Who stinking of an over the top Jimmy Saville, crowned me with his goldie lookin chain.
Later on my smile held fast as two scallywags tried to nick my bag and then gifted me with bike locks they'd recently robbed…the little sweeties.
Then a magical Rainbow man caught my eye and I gave chase until he handed over his boa bright.

















LAST DAY – in the Rainy city












Sat in Albert Square in the pissing rain of Manchester



and a gaudily coloured

Wedding guest came running up to ask " Is it arrrGHHt???" " Actually (pretentious voice returns) I'm travelling along the blah-dee-blah oikin blah… Gimme yer coat bitch!"




















Big ups to Richard Stacey my photographing space monkey and all the lovely lovely public I met along my way. I love you all but won't be doing it again.

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