I go downstairs and my drunken Irish neighbour (yes) is lying on my sofa and she started telling me I’m beautiful.

Then my mother (the little charmer) says, “Oh don’t tell her that!” *fake laugh fake laugh patronising arm rub fake laugh*

And then my neighbour started shouting ‘YOU’RE GROSS, YOU LOOK GROSS UGH’ at me so I decided it was time to evacuate the premises. 

For the majority of people, today is just that. But in terms of music history it’s something a lot more.

Today, me and Annie got the bus to Macclesfield in the hope of finding Ian Curtis’ house and grave. The opinions I received from that were either indifferent or ‘that’s sad’. And it was quite sad, but emotionally. It was such a strange experience to see everything right there, tangible and in colour, but what did I really expect? We went to the house first, after walking, we came to it quite abruptly, but it was all so familiar after watching Control. I can’t quite describe how it felt. The only thing that really ruined the experience, colour aside for a moment, was the more modern aspect of it all. The road was full with cars, but again, really it wouldn’t be any different. I just imagine everything through Ian Curtis’ eyes to be black and white. I liked the absence of the modern technology, and I loved the old fashioned prams and just the whole emptiness of it all. We sat outside the house, and only one person that passed knew our purpose for being there. 

We then walked to the grave, and I couldn’t really remember the specific direction of it from last time but, again, we found it quite abruptly. After the stone, the first thing that caught my eye was just how much stuff was piled on top of it. But it was beautiful stuff. People had written poems, memories and just words. There were flowers, cigarette ends, candles and coins. We sat and lit the candles, reading the little notes but somehow feeling that we shouldn’t be, because they weren’t really for us. But they were all lovely, thought-out and articulate, which is so reflective of general Joy Division fans that really understand and appreciate the lyrics. At these significant locations, we sat, and we talked, and I ceremoniously smoked my cigarettes, and it was so strange just to think that he had walked the streets. 

So to an outsider on the issue, this all sounds a bit ridiculous, but I don’t think they really understand how beautiful it was.