"We've bonded over the mud" "It's like Glastonbury"

"Don’t trust them, they’ve been drinking"

"It’s just like the Wacky Races"

"The ND are not bad! Or mad!"

"Do you think we’re nutters?" "I’m inconclusive."

Three years ago on the 16th November I found myself in Middlesbrough for the Christmas lights switch on. That day was the start of the Northern Division. It was the day we screamed at some bloke for squirting fairy liquid on us and the day Griffin thought me and Ali had got in a fight because someone stole our banner.
Three years later I have been to more places in England than I can count and some that I never even knew existed before going there. There was the time we ended up in Harlow for a Christmas lights switch on – "that’s the stage?!"- it rained. We told people we'd come from York, they thought we'd come from New York. I’m not going back. There was a radio tour that lasted a day but will forever be the day we officially became the Northern Division. I was back at base trying to find Corinne, Cat and Ali somewhere to stay and Ali was flagging taxis and nearly getting run over. There were the numerous times in York where we played 'how many people can we fit in Ali's room at uni?' – Ali's answer was always five more than you would think physically possible. There were nights when we stayed up all night, ate Maryland cookies that we covered in icing and the one time we realised that the parking ticket on Ali's car was going to run out so got a taxi at 5am to go put more money on it, after Ali had run back upstairs to get the keys.
There were all the drunken nightclub gigs where we ignored security and had fun with permanent pens. The nightclub gigs that Corinne and I had a list of missions for. The Derby nightclub gig where Cat thought me and Gayle were drunk at 3pm because we rang her up asking how to get to the hotel from the station when she was somewhere between Middlesbrough and Derby in a car, navigating. The same gig where Corinne and I coined Griffin Time, which is forevermore ten to three, and then for a week afterwards text each other at that time every day. And the same gig where we found ourselves in a car listening to Griffin blasting out of the stereo at ten to three in the morning in the hotel car park, walking back in through reception and being told we were being too loud.
The Birmingham gig where we played 'how many people can we fit in a hotel room?' I think we managed at least twenty before reception rang to say there were too many people in the room. Gayle offered to leave. We told her that we thought reception probably wanted more than one person to leave the room.
There were the single release signings. Twice. The time in Leeds we decided to take Griffin a pint in HMV during the signing. Apparently it tasted like Tescos carrier bag. The time we went to Whitby for the single release signing and left before Griffin played. The first time me and Ali went to Whitby and some weird old bloke tried to get in our picture. The time we all thought it a good idea to go camping in Whitby. The little piece of material that was supposed to go on top of one of the tents didn’t get put on. The tent flooded. We used it to hold alcohol. We put up a pirate flag and had to put up the tents in weather so windy the windbreaker didn’t work. Corinne, Ali and me spent fifteen minutes debating a trip on the Endeavour before deciding no because we all get seasick. We had a beach campfire at 2am, which in getting to the beach Ali nearly led us to our death down the side of the cliff. We also managed to go to a pub for dinner and then have them put up a 'no groups' sign the next day: "I don’t think we were that loud" "Were you in the same pub?!" That was the time Ali told everyone she was going to tell everyone she'd been skiing...in St Tropez and Corinne, Ali and me got soaked from canoeing since no one told us that water drips down the paddles.
We found it hilarious that we ended up in Nightingales –a gay nightclub- on Valentines Day. Corinne complained that the walk from the station to the bus stop was not short. We danced on stage and got drunk. Griffin called us crazy. We only know that because we lip-read him from across the room. Oh, it was also the day Corinne and I miss-timed the intro to Hungry for Love.
There's the numerous Bedford gigs including the first one where we were stood outside the toilets with Ali loudly exclaiming about a spot on her tights when Griffin walked past. The time we saw Posh Young Farmer Boy at the Bedford, wondered why he was singing Justin Timberlake and tried to make Griffin go find out. He went to the bar instead. We all got drunk; Becky managed to blag herself a seat on the table at the front.
THE radio tour. The three day tour in which we managed to get to all the radio stations barring three. It was St David's Day. We gave Griffin leeks. Corinne spelt leeks wrong so we made her carry them. To write about the memories from those three days would take a blog entry in itself. We won the race because certain people stopped for food; we weren't paying attention to the door, we got wolf whistled at; we played bull fighting – Corinne was the bull. We broke the flag stick.
There was the Clapham Grand gig where we forgot to breathe. The other Clapham Grand gig where we got very drunk, had fun playing on the light up dance floor, loved the fact that we had a box and had a huge Riccardi banner that had had Becky ring me up the day before to check how to spell Riccardi.
The numerous Riccardi gigs that we went to and weren’t sober for until the one time I had to get up early the next day.
The whole Coventry incident which I'm surprised we all survived, although I did get whacked in the head by Cat and alas the spot where we nearly died and 'crowd control' did nothing to save us is now the site of a Transport Museum.
There was the whole Nottingham incident where we got kicked out of the arena for not having tickets – however, it was more hilarious than that because I suspect we got kicked out for running about in the foyer, yelling and singing.
There are the numerous road trips including the infamous charity cricket where Becky and I ended up on the wrong end of the country and Gayle had to give me a lift in the end.
The Aston Uni May Ball, that we gate crashed but had tickets for and ended up singing Jessie in their karaoke. The numerous theatre trips, including the few we did for Jesus Christ Superstar. Eurovision. The Eurovision party in Manchester.

We don’t have AGMs in the Cross Keys anymore, but we regularly sit for hours in the pubs of York and indeed any city we find ourselves in and somehow the ND has lasted this long. We met many people along the way and had so many laughs, so much alcohol and made so many memories that to write it all down, well you would need to write a book, and you wouldn’t even have to increase the font size. So I guess what I’m trying to say in a round about way is whoo hoo, and here’s to lots more years and lots more road trips because, it’s not a road trip unless you get lost…


"I’ll go wherever you will go."

"I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour."

Labels: anniversary, fox, griffin, northern division, riccardi