Chris Farlowe once sang that “Air travel is the thing of today”. Burt Bacharach was more fond of trains and boats and planes. The Wurzels, on the other hand, would have found a brand new combine harvester perfectly acceptable. Whatever the mode of transport used, we all need to get from here to there in one form or another. This is especially true for travelling to the Seven by Seven events. More so for some than others.

I don’t drive. Never have done. There was a point about 12 years ago when I nearly relented and considered driving lessons, but this feeling quickly passed due to various reasons. I might just add, that I am a fantastic dodgem driver so look out for me at the local funfairs and carnivals. Thwack! Kaboom! Clunk! Krunch! Oooof!

Getting to the Wharf Chambers, or the numerous other settings for the event as well as the various spin-offs, are relatively straightforward to get to. For me, at least, that is true. Although the Sunday Service buses can be a little hit and miss, they generally turn up. EVENTUALLY! I live approximately 20 odd minutes away from the city centre so it’s not a massive inconvenience if they don’t show. I can always hop on a train or dig out the wallet for an Uber. Plus, there are friends and family who grudgingly offer a lift on occasions.

“Shall we head through Headingley and have a gawp at the fancy dress loonies?” is a usual teaser from me in order to clinch the deal.

It generally receives a roll of the eyes and a “Get in! Let’s go!” response.

I’ve also considered cycling into town along the canal towpath. It really is a gorgeous little journey, although the vision of me wobbling home after a skin full, in the dark and with numerous other pubs on the route back makes me want to reconsider this idea. I think I’ll give it a lash once sobriety kicks in eventually.

From earwigged conversations and some not very intensive research I have noted the various municipalities people spring from in order to get to the Seven by Seven sessions. I mean, not originally, but where they currently reside. Okay. Here goes:

• Chapel Allerton/Potternewton

• Bradford

• Bingley

• Horsforth

• Skipton

• Sheffield

• Leeds City Centre

• York

• North Wales

• Armley

There are quite clearly more and they have been mentioned in passing, but I quickly forget if I don’t write them down immediately. I really take my hat off to all the folks who travel from outside the Leeds Urban Metropolis. I’ve done the bus and train journey to Bradford for the (excellent) 45 Revolutions at the 1 in 12 Club, and it does require a good deal of time and organisation. I’ve also braved travelling to Ash’s Vinyl Resurrection in South Yorkshire. This trip has added pitfalls attached due to Sheffield having a very welcoming pub that sits literally on the station platform. The occasion when I bumped into Quest and Julia at one of these soirees led me to arriving home at 11.15pm. The event had finished at 6pm! Those 20 feet from the bar to the platform proved unattainable.

After ordering what was probably a fifth round of drinks in the Sheffield Tap (the name of the bar) the barman casually asked me, “Weren’t you getting on the next train to Leeds a while back?”

“Next train’s gone...” I sighed and scuttled back to the table brimming over with empty glasses.

Long distance forages have done in better men (and women) than me in the past. I guess it’s the thrill of a day out to pastures new. I recall Ash calling up from Sheffield one time for a Wharf Chambers Session. After ‘enjoying himself’ a little too much he headed off into the night, only to be greeted by another club regular whilst zig-zagging down Sheaf Street. They gripped him by the shoulders and turned him 180 degrees with the sage advice, “Sheffield is thatta way, my friend!” as he disappeared into the stratosphere. Arthur, also from Sheffield, surfaced at the venue on another instance, after disembarking from his barge that was parked up on the Leeds/Liverpool Canal. His was a more temperate affair, however.

Going back to the ‘boroughs of origin’ I noted from the last Seven by Seven gathering the large influx from Horsforth or the Horsforth Intelligentsia as I call them. I include myself too as it is also my neck of the woods. I have counted 11 people from the area that have attended one or more Wharf Chambers, Vinyl Resurrections (Sheffield) or Northlight in Chapel Allerton. I am cheating slightly as 4 of the number are old schoolfriends who I’m still great pals with and persuaded to come to the events. Smitty used to live in Horsforth but does have to travel through the area on his journey into town. One of his (many) claims to fame is having the ex-Leeds United footballer, James Milner as well as 80s electro/northern soul crooner, Marc Almond both living on his street in Horsforth at one time (Brownberrie Avenue, for all you interested parties out there). He calls it ‘the street of the stars’. There is yet to be a blue plaque proposed.

Although I love (nearly) all the records played at the Seven by Seven carbuncle, I have a particular fondness for the Horsforth crowd. It’s not exactly the Bromley Contingent from the old punk days (Siouxsie, Steve Severin, Billy Idol, Soo Catwoman et al) but they do play some awfully fine music. From the 60s garage brain melters courtesy of Alan and Jenny to the smokin’ northern soul from Danny as well as some 80s cockeyed wonky discord offered by Sally and her family. I also play a wild collection of records on occasions too. It’s just the best. Yes, it is!

The journey home is generally a more wayward matter than the way in I find. Myself and Smitty would usually get the same bus home (the A1 Airport Flyer, if possible) although we have sometimes gone our separate ways for reasons best known to ourselves. If I am on my own, I usually get the bus loony making a bee-line for me and plonking themselves down beside me. I’ve had the experience of the self-proclaimed ‘Bard of Bramley’ reciting terrible poetry (my bus home goes nowhere near Bramley, by the way) and the time a tennis-racquet wielding maniac started dancing in front of the number 33. 30-love, more like. Or the time a guy brandishing a huge magnifying glass was telling everyone at the bus-stop he had just been released from prison (a 2-day sentence apparently). I’m still not sure how the magnifying glass was involved in all this. He did start singing Rolling Stones songs once onboard. I was going to suggest ‘Breakin’ the Law, Breakin’ the Law’ but that would have probably been a mistake. The man getting on wearing worry beads worried me one time too. Safe to say, I’m seen them all. The best, most enjoyable and quickest way home is definitely the fab A1 Flyer. Half the time the drivers let you on without paying. They’re usually either incredibly laid back or incredibly angry. There is nothing in between. Both extremes are equally hilarious at that time of a night. Our favourite one was a very young, female driver who let us both on free one Sunday night, then posed for a photo with Smitty just before he alighted. She even answered questions relating to whether she had ever driven a Leyland Atlantean vehicle around the Leeds Inner Ring Road. She was a delight.

Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!