Manchester, England, England.

On Saturday morning I set off for Manchester, in one large Jess-shaped rush as ever. I stopped at McDonalds along the way and ordered a sausage and egg bagel. Rookie mistake number one: apparently they take twice as long to make as a sausage and egg McMuffin, and so I found myself marching up the road, attempting to wolf down my breakfast as I went. I made it onto the tube and thus the clock-watching began; ten past. I said goodbye to Harry at London Bridge (bye bye Harry); quarter past. I cursed the tube engineer whose decision it was to locate Westminster station so far away from Green Park station despite their actual geographical proximity; twenty past. I changed onto the Victoria line and cursed the people with oversized suitcases and pushchairs; twenty-five past. I arrived at Victoria and tried to locate the coach station, cursing any commuter who dared to intercept my graceless running; twenty-seven minutes past. I arrived at the coach station, one big puff of breath and rucksack and looked up at the board of times in order to locate my bus; thirty-one minutes past and my coach had gone. So, I resigned myself to buying another ticket and sat down to wait with my copy of Middlemarch. Megabus/Manchester.

The coach journey itself was pretty standard: several hours out of London, another few hours on the M6, listening to other people's loud phone conversations, staring out the window and failing to read more than a few chapters of my book. We arrived in Manchester at five o'clock. I set off for the Arndale Centre - and was almost hit by a tram in the process - and was in the middle of looking for a card when I realised my book was missing: rookie mistake number two. I went back to the coach station - and was almost hit by a tram in the process - and there it was, sitting on the seat upon which I'd left it. Thank goodness nobody wants to read £2 George Eliot novels. Problem averted I went back to the shops and upon discovering that my friends would not be arriving for another three hours or so I set about the task of spending all my money: number three. I bought a skirt, a bracelet, a Hope and Greenwood book, Lucky Charms for breakfast, four 10p postcards from Paperchase and a birthday card for Jonny. I ate pizza and chips alone in the food-court, which brought back memories of university Open Days and hobbling round Manchester with an aching knee (thank you Snowdon). Eventually the shops shut and so I set off for Piccadilly Station to wait for the first arrivals. I set up quite a pleasant den for myself with hot chocolate and my purchases spread out around me and the Times crossword.

Catrin was the first to arrive and the others followed soon after. We went in search of our Travel Lodge, stopping at a Tesco Express for provisions along the way. Hannah and I bought mini wine on the merit of the bottles alone and had great fun with them once we got to our rooms. We changed and eventually set off in the direction of the town centre, Catrin's ankles bending on her heels the entire way. A drunken foreign man at Primark corner told me I was 'ugly girl'. I decided I hate Manchester. Or drunkards.

Regardless of this fact however, the night continued. We were cold and confused and lost, so we went to the Printworks. There we had too much choice, so we settled for 'Pure', the one venue to give us buy one get one free entry vouchers :) Inside we struggled to find the cloakroom, fought for space at the bar, did a little dancing, aching feet, aching feet, found Emma and Emily, did a little more dancing, aching feet some more and Jonny was mistaken for Prince William. We left a little early when foot pain got the better of us and stood outside attempting to formulate a what-next? plan. While we were deciding we played the 'pretend you've met a celebrity' game and Amber and Ashley convinced one boy that he was little Chris. In the end we took a taxi back to the hotel and after changing into warmer clothes and comfortable shoes we went on a food-hunt. At the nearby kebab shop I bought garlic bread and pizza, which we ate on the travel lodge floor with pyjamas and music channels. In the morning we checked out and went to Tesco to stock up on breakfast food. I bought copious amounts of fruit and capri suns, which I regretted later on the coach when I was longing for pasta and crisps. Then we went our seperate ways, I walked with Catrin to Victoria station and still had time to spend a little more money (moleskine notebook, bookplates) before I caught the coach back to London.