I'd been back at the Hacienda for eight months every Saturday in the Fifth Man (the basement) and in many ways it had probably been the best of all of my Hacienda eras (thinking about it, maybe 88-90 on Thursdays was better). But certainly the Fifth Man just rocked in those eight months, and even all the most been-there-done-that Hacienda cynics had a smile back on their faces. I remember Leroy Richardson really bigging up what I was doing to someone and that meant a lot to me because Leroy had been working there for years and years!
Of course no-one knew 28th June was going to be the last night. I played for four hours downstairs, through til 2am, and it was packed and everyone filed out of the front door into taxi queues or down Whitworth Street to the dodgy car parks opposite the snooker hall and everyone was shouting 'See you next week', and it had been another of those nights when, truly, next week, couldn't have come soon enough.