In which G.M. Norton becomes a seersucker-wearing shouty man.
Last Saturday, I went along to Salford's Big Day Out where I spent the day sauntering around with a megaphone in my hand making announcements. Think of me as a town crier, only at a festival, and wearing an American seersucker suit.
In which G.M. Norton goes on a time travelling meander.
I live around five miles from Rochdale, a small town in the north west of England. From the age of 16 to 22, I worked in the town and but now I only occasionally visit. It's been a good three years or so since I had a proper mooch around. This week I had a small errand to run visiting the magnificent Rochdale Town Hall.
It really is a stunning building. According to folklore, Adolph Hitler was rather keen on it and had plans to have it moved elsewhere. While I was there, I decided to have a little wander.
In which G.M. Norton looks ahead to his favourite time of the year.
Now we're in September, I simply can't wait for autumn to be here. I'm not one for summer, I must confess. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have a little sunshine and clear blue skies. Indeed, I've just returned from a summer jaunt away with the family. But I do so terribly miss my finest tweeds and woollens. With my favourite season on the horizon, I've greedily been lusting over photographs of tweed ensembles. Don't these pictorials (purloined from Cordings) just look grand?