My solo redemption trip
Ticket buying is something I consider myself fairly good at — from One Direction’s first ever tour to last-minute second row for Jonathan Bailey’s COCK1, it’s a skill I feel like I’ve refined over the years — so when I was scammed on Facebook last year, it felt like a double affront.

I’d seen Pub Choir on a TikTok, immediately fallen in love, and found out that they were, that very weekend, over in the Northern Hemisphere from Australia for a UK tour. From there, a tale as old as time: sold out tickets, a FB group, paypal family & friends, then a series of jubilant/mocking voice notes in a language I didn’t recognise once I realised what had happened.
(It turned out I was teetering on the precipice of one of my many troughs of illness anyway, so even had I got actual tickets I wouldn’t have been able to attend, as I was sequestered away at my parents’ for a couple of weeks by the time the weekend rolled around).
When Pub Choir announced their tour for 2024, I knew I couldn’t miss it again…even if all of the England dates fell when I was in Montenegro for my cousin’s wedding. I booked my hotel, booked my trains, and when the time came I set about for a solo 24.5 hours in the city of Glasgow!
Founded and led by Astrid Jorgensen, Pub Choir is, essentially, learning how to sing a pop song in a three-part harmony in a room full of strangers, with loads of fun and laughs thrown in. You don’t have to be a good singer to go to Pub Choir; the whole ethos is that everyone can sing…not well, but they can literally sing, and that’s all you need to become an epic choir for one night only.
The reason I was so desperate to attend was because it seemed like such a powerfully joyful experience to be part of; and I was right. Just as I cried at the original TikTok I saw, I cried at not only the final rendition of the song we sung on the night, but at the trailer they showed of last year’s song too. There’s something about singing in a communal setting that always gives me a lump in my throat, no matter what.
In that same vein of joy and connection, I decided I’d use the trip as an extension of my holiday. I could have used it as a couple of work days — Glasgow certainly has plenty of gorgeous cafes I could have used as my office — but instead I thought I’d just be2.




So I went to a museum, I met with an insta friend for lunch, I marvelled at my friend about how said museum was free and she reminded me that all major Scottish ones are and I said for the 872920th time “God England is shit”. I sat on my hotel bed in a towel post-shower and realised, just like when you realise adulthood is being able to buy a birthday cake for yourself any day of the year, that nothing was stopping me making 2 cups of tea at a time to counterbalance the thimble-sized servings of the hotel mugs. I made a Google Map of all the places I’d been recommended, which you can find here (I wrote about my Manchester one here). I got mad at said map because there were too many wonderful places to cover in 24.5 hours. I had 872920+1 decaf oat mochas and sweet treats, as well as haggis and Irn Bru (because a) I like the flavours but b) I also wanted to signal to the locals that I was one of the good southerners with appreciation and excellent taste.) I left my suitcase in a locker at the hotel after checkout and was so smug with my spatial working that I sent Rich a picture, only to immediately realise I’d put it in with the handle facing inward and how the hell was I going to get it out?
One of the other things I did was going for dinner on my own. To be honest, I wasn’t really that bothered by the prospect of this — it doesn’t seem particularly weird to me — until I sat down and felt like the table of men next door were staring at me. I kept my head high, ordered a big glass of rose and my food — which was delicious, big up ’BABS — and cracked open my book. Soon enough I’d relaxed and could no longer feel any eyes on me (because, tbf to the table of men, they might never have been on me in the first place).
So the moral of the story is: Visit Glasgow. Go to Pub Choir. Sing as loud as you want no matter your skill level. Don’t be scammed on facebook. Don’t be embarrassed to dine solo. Book the trip you want. Back yourself.
No, seriously https://playbill.com/article/jonathan-bailey-and-taron-egerton-to-star-in-cock-in-londons-west-end (Taron Egerton sadly had to drop out)
And in a rather timely coincidence I’d literally just finished I’m Mostly Here To Enjoy Myself by Glynnis MacNichol, kindly leant to me by Rebecca Low after her roundup here.




It sounds amazing. I love the revelation about being able to make two tiny cups of tea. Adulthood is brilliant.
I love this! Nothing makes me feel more grown up - and yet more childish - than a solo night in an hotel. THE GLEE! I'm so happy that you had such a wonderful trip! X