Remember the film, Escape from New York?

Visited a local town for an evening event. I cannot say the experience was delightful. More, it confirmed all my intent never to return. 

The landscape of this particular town is bleak. Imagine how they have flattened everywhere to create 6-lane highways, endless quantities of Lidl and Wren Kitchen outlets, and a defunct gas works. 

Once inside Town X, I avoided a car accident by a whisper and the quick judgement of the other driver. As in, you get 2 yards to switch lanes, despite previous signs assuring you of straight-on-and-right-turn, now it isn't. Stay put, and enjoy a one-way routing, one more time. (Or switch, and test the reactions of the driver behind.)

The usual car park was shut due to building works. Necessitating the NCP and a 20-minute walk. Not too bad, I thought, as I could get my exercise steps. 

The dark alleyways to avoid the no-pavement route of the A-road were going okay. Until I realised the horror of an unlit underpass. Which was also flooded.

Fortunately, a kind soul had hauled concrete blocks to use as stepping stones across the lake. Unfortunately, the kind soul was possibly the same local drug lord, holding court, by use of a head-torch, behind a brick pier half-way along. For a brief moment, when the whispering stopped and the staring started, it crossed my mind I might be shot.

Eventually, after crossing the building site safely thanks to my phone light, I arrived at the venue. To find the main doors locked. Like, how are you supposed to enter a public event (albeit in the middle of a building site) when they lock the fecking doors? 

Someone let me in after I banged on a window.

The event passed peacefully, with only a small amount of shame and despair on my part.

On the way back to the NCP through the late-night deserted streets and pelting rain, a gentleman of the night, possibly tired and emotional, threw a water bottle at me and assaulted me with a tirade of abuse for, I don't know, walking. On the plus side, I managed the remainder of my daily 10,000 steps at a considerably quicker pace than when I began.

Here's a photo of the ceiling at the venue. Regulars may recognise it. For those who don't know where it is, I will never name it. Suffice to say, Mark Steel has not yet ventured.