02 December, 2014

Big Sixes On Tour - Hotels from Heaven and Hell - Manchester

We've teamed up with one of the freshest new bands in the UK right now, Big Sixes, to bring you a daily tour diary or just what it's like to be on the road.



The main emphasis is on the luxurious budget hotels that the band stay in amongst their nitty-gritty nights on stage playing to cities across the UK. Check back daily to find out their latest spotting of beige coloured furniture and why their lack-lustre continental breakfasts just aren't quite hitting the spot, and no, Lenny Henry shall not be testing the beds with them.

Day #1 - Manchester, Birch M62 Westbound Hotel (Travelodge)

The evening came as expected; crisp and conductive to the bones with a light fog draping itself across the roads and hills surrounding us and holding us. There through the mist, in a short but achievable distance stood Birch Westbound, a jewel in Travelodge's crown. 

A fresh faced gentleman with bejewelled eyes welcomed our group into the ikea-listic, boarded lands with their squares of colour emitting their non committal status as barely decorations. Easily forgotten but resonating with us. Brown. Blue. Beige. Cream. Red. Brown. Brown. Brown. 

The 7 of us, who for practical reasons became 6, in our hooded furs and the cold black attire of the mountain man, swept up the stairs to our rooms happy to be home for the night. Our evening had come to the relevant and best conclusion. The sheets were thin and bulging and the lighting fitted the jelly and cake with gravy on top hospital vibe. But to be amongst friends in the house of indecision was why we bothered. Sleep came to all after a few hours of enjoying mother natures gifts. A pleasant sleep. 

It was a bright morning, and there was a piercing brightness. With a late night under our belts it found us grasping for the pillows and covers to hide beneath. 

The shower was our salvation. In our 4 person room, all were provided with warm water and our luck didn't end there either. As we entered the bowels of the food halls clamouring for meat and pastry shapes and fruit tubs and coffee blacker than a travelling cloak and as hot as Satan's kiss, we were not left wanting. 

Refreshed and bellies full we put our wheels to the motorway, the M62 our mistress but, at least for now, the heart remains with Birchwood Westbound.

By Chaz (@omega_rusty)