I had reasons to visit Manchester, England this past weekend, reasons that did not involve browsing an adult only bookshop with pockets full of loose change, or researching for a zoological degree I’m not studying for. This journey was interrupted in order to fill our cakehole’s full of tasty treats, an irrelevant yet important factor.
Jolly tasty nom noms.
Having purged this unexpected hunger, the escape route from this retail park allowed us to bear witness to the existence of Jazz Taxi.
When my brain pointed out to my eyes that they were broadcasting a retinal recording of a taxi driver (no DeNiro) whiling away the slacktime between marks, by leaning on the side of his car, tootling away on his saxophone.
The backdrop… another soulless business park in the district of Hulme (iThink).
Sadly our exit, the escape route lead directly out on to the main road and one reason why I failed to back this tale up with photographic evidence.
The other… we were too lazy to slingshot on a roundabout and make a series of left turns.
The third option is that maybe, I’m just a lying sack of shit.
One other thing I recall from this trip. I finished reading Brian Stableford’s The Womb of Time published by Perilous Press.
A brilliant novella that fused the Call of Cthulhu, with the biological sciences by way of pre-WW2 espionage with DeQuincey scholars, and Arthurian myth.
Mr. Machen also gets namechecked in this superior Lovecraftian tribute.
I have copies available for the UK only from a recent event held in London.
If you believe in Jazz Taxi and don’t think I’m a lying sack of shit, maybe just maybe, you’d like to order a copy today.