I joined the tour outside Wolverhampton Civic Hall and sat through the torrential showers and occasional sunshine. Attempted to dodge the slightly sleazy photographer who was taking pictures of (mostly the younger) fans for a magazine. I like to remain anonymous.
I met for the first time two Manics friends that I'd only ever previously spoken to in cyberspace and it was a massive pleasure to meet them face to face at last. There was no nervousness or awkwardness when I met them, it was as if we we'd known each other for years. Plus thanks to the fabulous Finn for the cakes.
The 7 doors at Wolves Civic (aka the doors of doom) were kind to me and I ended up on the barrier almost in front of James, the stage as always draped in camo netting.
The audience at Wolves were up for it. As soon as 'Yes' started there was a surge forward, I love that feeling, being crushed against the barrier with a thousand or so people behind me mouthing along with all the lyrics. I can understand why James has said that the Civic Hall is one of his favourite venues, it has a special atmosphere. The people that go to gigs here are those that love music and I think the audience that night loved the Manics, I certainly did. James bounced around the stage, Nicky scissor kicked with gay abandon and Sean's drums have rarely sounded as powerful or majestic as on 'Condemned to Rock and Roll'. The night was marred only by one person pulling my hair to get me off the barrier for the first three songs of the second set, but it didn't spoil the night.
The crowd bounced, yelled, pointed and shouted. I left sweaty and exhilarated. Wolves Civic, you are special.
Then an early morning sprint down the motorway took us to Southampton and the Guild Hall. I was tired and grumpy, so sorry to my companions for having to put up with me. This gig was most notable for me tripping on the way in and breaking my toe. Obviously the best treatment for this is to stand through a gig on it for 4 hours and then walk a mile back to the hotel. Obviously right?
Southampton brought two big surprises, firstly Nicky Wire in a fucking skirt on stage for the first time since the O2 gig! He accessorized with knee socks and knee pads and looked far better than a middle aged man should do in a skirt and knee pads. The second surprise was the debut of 'Sex Power Love And Money'; one of my favourite songs from Futurology, I sang along with all my might. Watching James Dean Bradfield shout SEX at you from a few metres away is something that still makes weak at the knees.
After a few days off, a trip to A&E for an X-Ray and a special shoe, Friday morning found me in the queue for Cardiff Castle, despite only being able to hobble at a snails pace, with no place guaranteed at the front.
I stayed out of the middle and stood in front of where I think Richey would probably have stood, my place on the barrier only saved for me by the kindness of my friends.
Let me take a little tangent to thank all those friends that I queued alongside, slept with, traveled down with and ate chips with. You are all beautiful, wonderful people and I'm lucky that I'm allowed to call you friends. You are all kind, thoughtful, funny and witty. I'm not sure I deserve you.
The gig at Cardiff Castle was special, but I felt nervous as the Holy Bible seems like it should always be enclosed in a room and left to percolate its bleak tendrils through the crowd. Cardiff Castle felt like the album was being released out into the twilight dusk and set free to travel out between the city and and the stars, one final cathartic scream into the dark and then you'll be free of the weight of its history.
It really was exhilarating to hear 'Of Walking Abortion's' final lines being spat out by so many fans. It was spine-tingling and beautiful hearing 'This Is Yesterday' at dusk, the lines being sung softly by the crowd like a sigh spreading out through the crowd in front of the castle.
Nicky looked lean and business like and Sean brushed the dust off his UN beret (and put it on backwards) and pounded the drums like the machine he is.
James, after the interval now in black instead of his sailor top, was joined by the Vulcan String Quartet for a special rendition of 'The Everlasting'; pure and brilliant and perfectly sung and beautifully presented.
It was a sweet interlude before the frenzy that always is 'Motorcycle Emptiness', the backdrop to which was video of the Manics when they were just starting out, young and fresh with beautiful Richey staring through the gap of two decades and into the hearts of the crowd.
Nicky teased the crowd with a change into a second jacket instead of his promised camo dress, later disappearing from the stage while James launched into the Welsh National Anthem and returning in short skirt with long, long legs, looking slightly fragile like a newly born giraffe.
With that, the fireworks went off and James and Nicky smashed the toughest bass guitar ever known to pieces and walked off stage. Goodnight Richey, goodbye Holy Bible. The majesty of 'Mausoleum' and 'Archives of Pain' will live with me for a good while yet.
So thank you to Nicky Wire, Sean Moore, James Dean (fucking) Bradfield and the beautiful Richard Edwards. That was the Holy Bible. May your Gods go with you, good night.
