It's very unusual that I'm around to catch the first Torbay Express of the season these past few years. However, the slightly earlier timing and excellent weather tempted me out to the lineside. Very few people out and about despite the appearance of celebrity locomotive Tornado - leading me to believe that perhaps people had just forgotten about the start of the runs.

Pleased that the trip ran to time and arrived before the clouds closed in, as I don't expect to make the next couple of morning runs. This evening however was a different matter, and with unexpected whistles clearly heard this morning a few more folk had turned out giving the station something of a buzz. There was added tension for us photographers, with a down service minutes away and the sun disappearing behind a mass of black cloud in an otherwise blue sky! Finally, after being pointlessly held for the stopping service to Bristol, Tornado appeared on the horizon.

The appearance of a steam locomotive at my home station is still magical, and its always heartening to see the town turn out for the event too.

It dawned on me at about 05:35 as I was walking to the station that I ought to go to bed earlier on Friday nights these days! Another early start, and another gala to visit as the curious summer of few interesting tours continues. This time it's the turn of the East Lancashire Railway. I'd visited briefly before, but had only enjoyed a ride behind a steam loco. Also, as the previous visit occurred on a weekday, I didn't get to complete the trip as far as Heywood. So the plan was to head for Bristol, catch the direct train to Manchester and then the tram to Bury for a few trips during the weekend of the ELR's 9 day Diesel Gala marathon. As it still seemed like a good idea, despite being so early - pressed on for the station. The journey up went surprisingly smoothly. After breakfast in Bristol, onto the 07:30 and settled in for the ride up to Manchester. Noted 'Tangmere' at Barton Hill ready for tomorrow's first Torbay Express trip, and also surprised to note the two Colas Rail 47s lurking in the sidings at Bristol Parkway. Otherwise, quite a quiet run up to Piccadilly, with only the noise of one of the hired-in HST sets heading for the south west at Birmingham to wake me up.

Straight onto the tram, and a fiddle for change which I should have anticipated. Had I done so, could have managed a slightly different set of turns on the ELR. Finally got a Bury tram and noted the improved ride quality on the former heavy rail tracks once out of the city centre. Arrived at the impressively preserved Bolton Street station and parted with a painfully large sum in time for a quick wander around, some shots of 50015 and then soon after, 45041 down to Heywood. This was the important bit, as it meant new track too. The weather was strange - fairly bright but with the threat of a downpour ever present. This occurred on our arrival back at Bury, with a damp dash out to get a shot of D1023 which arrived on the next platform heading the way we'd just arrived from.

At Bury there was a brief break for a loco swap as 45041 returned to the depot and 47402 'Gateshead' joined the train. I've always rather liked this loco, but it's remained elusive - hiding behind it's own sales stand at Crewe Works in 2005, and remaining resolutely on-shed during my last ELR visit. Sounding impressive, 47402 took us North into improving conditions and eventually to the terminus at Rawtenstall, passing 31108 on the way - a loco I'd very much have like to get a ride behind. Time for pictures on the run-around, and to grab another coffee before boarding for the run back down to Bury. Noted 20087 lurking too, having worked a short trip to Ramsbottom. We too waited there, as 37901 and 906 - stars of the recent Merehead gala - were a little late in arriving at the passing point. A brief delay meant an explosive start though - and once the train passed us, we shot away at what I'm sure was far more than the permitted speed. A spirited and very claggy run down to Bury.

Here it was time to leave - albeit very reluctantly as I'd like to have stayed for a few more runs. Perhaps next time I'll arrange to stay locally and enjoy a couple of days of entertainment on this fine railway. Today though, a swift walk to the Tram Interchange and back to Manchester to buy provisions and board the 16:24 back to Bristol. Another simple and pleasant journey into darkening skies, before a change in Bristol and an arrival home to a rain-lashed Highbridge and deciding not to go out again tonight. A cracking day out despite the weather, with some fine old engines.

Early start - felt sleepy and fuzzy most of morning. Troublesome dreams don't help. Visitors, then wandered to Post Office depot to collect book which had been delivered during the week. Coffee in town, some wandering. Decided to head for Burnham to deliver my father's (late) birthday present. Flying visit only, because I wanted to go back to sleep! Shopped. Slept for a while. Released gnome-pkgview-1.0.1 which is long overdue.

I allow myself a certain smugness when going to see Lambchop. Of course I'm far too ineffectual and timid to let it be known, but secretly I'm sneering. Its all to do with history. About ten years ago, I was happily listening to a wonderful 7" single by Posterchild, and thinking about writing to them to appear on the next Traumatone cassette compilation. A couple of years later, along with fellow Nashville pop act Crop Circle Hoax (who shared the single I discovered them on) and New Jersey's Spent, Traumatone had put out Lambchop's very first UK release.

That badly photocopied cassette (entitled 'Sorry About the Deformed Heart') was a labour of great love for me. With a cover made from a photograph shot through the blinds of a house I stayed in during my 1994 trip to Granite City, Illinois, and with a title culled from the one and only valentine card I have ever received in my life - it could be little else. It sold moderately well, and remains one of the tapes people ask me about all these years later. How on earth did I pull it off?

Fast forward a few years. I've kept up with the first few Lambchop records, but my horizons have expanded and I'm hard pressed to buy all the records I want anymore. Priorities have changed, some old favourites appear to have slipped into history. We're in Bristol, curiously thinking about seeing 'And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead' - they're tipped for the top, and its completely sold out. Posters direct us across town, where Mary Lorson (ex-Madder Rose) and Kurt Wagner are playing a solo show at Fiddlers in Bedminster. Its kind of expensive to get in, but turns out to be worth every penny. I've rediscovered Lambchop by accident.

Now its a couple of years later, and 'Nixon' and 'Is a Woman' have catapulted Lambchop into an uneasy sort of critical acclaim. The crowd queuing along the wall of the Seven Stars ("French Maids - after 4pm!") is a strange bunch. I spot a few kids who are maybe ten years my junior - dressed in the timeless uniform of indie-boys. With them, the bored and dead-eyed girlfriends who never wanted to come anyway and just overheard someone say its a country and western night! Beside me (in fact on both sides) are the quiet, introspective and slightly nearer my age alt-country guys. Almost normal looking, if a little glum, generally alone or at least in a group of two, wives and partners safely at home. They've travelled from Cardiff, Worcester, Exeter for this. A few steps back in the line are the Rock Magazine guys. They read Q or something, believe the hype - and sometimes I guess they strike lucky. They exchange facts about the band like a game of top trumps. These people normally travel in pairs. One who got the CD first and told his friend about them, and therefore assumes a superior position in the duo. Otherwise, they form these alliances on the fly with other lone types, and you can watch the vaguely concealed suspicion crackle - 'does he know more than I do?' and 'maybe he has that obscure British tape they released?'.

More people arrive, and the wonderful Lincoln are soundchecking inside. A brace of middle-aged couples stop near the door. They're clearly not used to having to queue for entertainment, and one of the wives 'just goes to see' if they can't get priority entry. Rebuffed they shuffle to the end of the line, the menfolk wondering why, if they're an American band, the tour bus is registered in Austria.

The doors open, and we file in. The Fleece - bless its rickety beams - is just like always - dark, a little too hot, full to just beyond the fire safety limit. Inside I can see everyone better, and its more eclectic than I expected. The ages range between 15 and 60, and suddenly I realise with horror that I'm somewhere in the middle. Its not 1992, and I'm not listening to the Posterchild single thinking I'll probably never see this band. I'm also not in charge of the UKs most annoying tape label anymore. In fact, I'm a withered and somewhat pathetic shadow of that irksome little shit.

Beside me during the support act's set, a girl snipes endlessly to her boyfriend about them. Particularly, about them being a country band and having (to her utmost dismay) a trumpet and a trombone. Another young man beside me (with an impressively long ginger beard) says how he's determined to enjoy this, even if... and he imitates a hillbilly dance with his thumbs hooked into a pair of imaginary braces. A couple of quiet men with the air of country doctors retiring after luncheon discuss an article they read about Kurt's work as a floor sander. Their wives make faces and giggle that "well, he didn't do OUR kitchen".

The music? Lincoln were great, Lambchop have been better - but in fairness I had to leave early to catch the last train home. Everyone seemed really happy. Even the girl who doesn't like trombones.