Having settled in to the room the next couple of tasks are selecting what to wear and getting made up.
A smaller suitcase would have made selecting the clothes easier.
After a little humming and ahhing its a medium length denim skirt and a pink t-shirt.
Soon to be followed by a yellow dress that is a little on the short side.
Quite a lot on the short side. But it works with the denim skirt.
Then on goes the makeup.
I opt for the Maybelline 18 hour lip stuff … a little more like paint than lipstick. But it does stay on and looks ok if it’s dabbed with the moisturiser that is provided with it.
Poor Tina. I still don’t break any speed records when it comes to applying makeup.
A look at the map to check where we are in relation to Canal Street and then we are off.
Right out of the hotel along Lower Moseley Street.
Right at Peter Street.
Left at Portland Street. We walk past the Premier Inn that has no power. It looks deserted and dark.
Right at Princess Street.
Left at Canal Street and into “the village.”
If Manchester were New York I suspect that a policeman or woman somewhere would have indicted us for jay walking. So many crossings showing red for pedestrians and yet with the traffic at a standstill as well.
As seems normal, no one seems to notice us much or to mind.
We head for the Rembrandt Hotel on the corner of Canal Street and Sackville Street where the Sparkle Welcome is at.
However, it is 5:45 pm and the Welcome ends at 6:00 pm.
There are purple Sparkle balloons at the door.
In we go.
But the place seems to be bereft of tgirls.
We order a couple of drinks at the bar.
“Are you going outside?”
The drinks come in plastic containers.
We go outside and look around a while.
No obvious signs of a Welcome.
Later we discover we are actually not looking in quite the right place.
We dawdle along Canal Street, sipping and chatting.
“Please Miss”. I hear a voice.
“Can I go to the toilet?”
A rather sozzled (as a newt as the saying goes … a Google search for the term “as a newt” will give you the general idea of what I mean) young man is standing beside me.
“Of course you may” says Andrea. Somewhat confused.
“You look just like a teacher” says the newt.
Andrea thinks … “a pity I left my cane at home. My skirt must be way too long”.
The young man looks at Tina.
“And so do you.” he says.
We smile and chat a little.
And dawdle a little more quickly as we pass him.
Still, there are much worse things that a person could be mistake for than a schoolteacher.
Tina at the Rembrandt:
Miss Andrea near the Rembrandt. Complete with plastic container.
Walking along the street we meet a very colourfully clad girl at one of the many restaurants.
Wandering along we try phoning my daughter who is a student at Manchester University and Jay, a friend of Tina’s. The plan is to meet for dinner.
So … it’s back to the hotel for a change of clothing and to try to work out where we’ll all meet up.