On Saturday – a glorious day with the sun beaming down – I took a trip up to my native city to see Jem’s boyfriend Matty perform in a production penned and produced by the performing arts and music students at Magee college. Based on the Glee TV show, the event was of course called… Maglee! I’d been rather frustrated by my experience as a theatre goer to the newly refurbished Playhouse theatre: the booking of tickets had to be done online, with stern exhortations to bring along ID when collecting them, the website gave no meaningful directions and no information on car parking nearby, and once I had arrived where I thought it was, there was no sign outside to confirm that I was in the right place.
No matter, I met up with Jem at the Diamond, we had a bite to eat at the Wetherspoons on the corner (for future reference, the tables upstairs by the window are the ones to nab) and then strolled around the walls. I pointed out the chapel of St Augustine – the little church on the walls – where my parents were married and where I was christened. From there we could look down on Free Derry corner, and I was relishing giving her a little bit of both family history and political significance during our pleasant walk.
The show itself was great fun, and Matty clearly enjoys performing. Congratulatory hugs duly dispensed afterwards, I set off for the 77 mile journey home. About 5 miles outside the city, I heard a loud bang, and assumed a stone had hit the car. This was followed by a juddering sensation, and I knew as I released my grip on the steering wheel and felt the car pull to one side that I had a puncture. I pulled over safely onto a layby and surveyed my position. I have changed a tyre in the past, but not for ages, and not on this car. But I started by extracting the spare wheel and tools and thinking about how to proceed. I could see that the trim on the wheel was held on with cable ties, so I’d need something sharp to cut those. I needed help.
Thinking fast, I called Matty. “Is your Dad still there?” I asked, since I knew his parents had been at the show. They’d be heading home on the same road that I was on, and I hoped I’d catch them before they left. Sure enough, 5 minutes later their car pulled in behind mine and switched on matching hazard lights. His Mum is a driving instructor, so knows her way around cars, while he makes guitars (how cool is that!) and had his work tool kit with him, complete with knives. In under 10 minutes he’d done the tyre change, and they volunteered to follow me for a few miles at least to make sure everything was OK. They even spotted me stop 3 miles later to close the passenger door properly, and I was enormously grateful to my knights in shining armour for their care and concern.
Dancing At Lunacy 
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