A reconstruction.

WordPress tells me what search terms bring you to my blog. It doesn’t identify you personally – I just see a list of search terms and how many hits I got from them.

Dwarfing all others, Duncan Norvelle is the most popular search term. Is he gay? Is he married? Etc.

But in addition it does give me a fascinating window on to the kinds of things you good citizens of the internet are looking for.

This is a new type of post. I will update this from time to time with my favourite search terms. And I shall start with these:

- Sue Holderness legs
- Ford pigeon
- man superdry back
- silica gel Stevenage
- duncan norvelle gardener
- kepi blank
- illegal parking on grass
- Brian Blessed wife swap
- Stevenage Taliban
- Tesco ad where man pushing a car all over the place
- crossdress air force
- lost black glove
- ”showing a bit of leg”
- how much does Duncan Norvelle cost to book

One corner that’s been forgotten about is in the Northern ticket hall. Away from the ticket machines, booths and barriers there’s a section, er…sectioned off by hoardings the same colour as the surrounding walls. Closer inspection reveals a notice pertaining to escalators. Take it from me, dear reader, this corner will soon blossom into our escalator up to the brand new concourse – our stairway to heaven/hell (depending on how the trains are that day).

One view.

So, here is your ‘before’ photo and in another post after the big reveal, I shall share the ‘after with you.

Another view.

Avid readers will know that some naughty cars park in spots that aren’t really spots to park in. One is right by the barriers in front of a tree. It’s only half a space, so cars parking there are half on the pavement too.

The new concrete bollard. Or 'collard'.

Well the powers that be have spotted this infringement and done something about it. They’ve erected a concrete post which puts the kybosh on that space. Naughty Rover and Toyota take note. Or face a hefty repair bill…

The new ticket hall (1000 Santas not included).

And here’s a quote from the press release:

“Over 600 people – from engineers, electricians and builders to carpenters, stone masons and abseilers – who are working to transform King’s Cross station got into the festive spirit today to celebrate the end of major construction work on the new western concourse. The new concourse is the stand-out feature of the £500m redevelopment of King’s Cross to make it into a world-class transport hub. The striking domed roof covers an area three-times the size of the existing concourse and big enough to fit over six Olympic-sized swimming pools. As well as providing a brighter, more spacious station, it will contain a wide range of new food and drink outlets and shops, plus improved facilities which will improve the journey experience for passengers.”

La Norvelle: note the wrists. Tricky innit.

Shame, I got in too late to catch it – plus there was unpacking to do, putting the kids to bed, etc. I thought no more about it until I checked The Parking In Stevenage stats on my first day back at work – yesterday.

Blow me. 946 hits in one day! For little old me. Well, me and Duncan. On WordPress you can see what terms brought the page to people’s attention. Basically, everyone wants to know if he’s gay. Some people beat around the bush and search for “Duncan Norvelle married”, others like to call him “Duncan Chase Me Norvelle” to include his 80′s catch phrase. But the overwhelming majority want to know: is the camp thing real?

Straight up, he’s not gay. That’s what I’m hearing.

See for yourself. Couldn't believe it, etc.

Is he gay. Is he? Is he? No really, is he?

Why? Well our daughter’s been cast as a Munchkin in the Wizard of Oz at the Palladium in London’s swinging West End. Ahhh, she’s only little. She survived 3 rounds of auditions, the last of which was supervised by Arlene Philips herself.

So our daughter is part of 10-strong team which rotates performances with 2 other crack teams of Munchkins – one of whom has a famous father who is very much flavour of the month right now.

The poster, sans Munchkins.

Now this is all rather glamorous, but beneath the greasepaint and hairnets, there’s the reality of getting our little luvvie into Theatreland 3 times every 10 days. Hence the added Parking in Stevenage.

It’s a logistical feat in itself. My wife and I sometimes meet briefly at King’s Cross as she hands over our daughter. It’s not as romantic as it sounds. It’s more like a scene from Kramer vs Kramer (older readers!) Sometimes we fight our way into London just to come straight back again, other times we’ll go into town and have dinner together. Now, that IS romantic.

If you're looking for me, here's a good place to start.

Even our other car gets to visit Swingate, which is nice. There’ve been times when both have been there t the same time. I SO wanted to take a piccie but they weren’t anywhere near each other. One for the desk at work, eh…? Never mind, there’s time yet.

Inside.

Outside.

If you commute through King’s Cross you may be ahead of me.

For as long as I can remember, there’s been work in progress, updating the station into the shiny utopia depicted in the posters.

Most of this work happens behind hoardings, with occasional big reveals giving the public a tantalising glimpse of the future.

I remember the day that the Northern Ticket Hall was unveiled out of thin air – partly down to a post on this very blog.

I certainly didn’t see it coming – yet there it was, a whole new ticket hall they’d been hiding all this time. What else have they been keeping from us?

Well it turns out that the lattice/circular canopy isn’t just a pipe-dream on a poster, it’s as real as you or I, and they’re starting to give us a flash, bit by bit. Almost daily, we’re treated to a bit more King’s Cross thigh. It makes you wonder when it’s all going to come off, giving is a full frontal of the new King’s Cross in the raw.

I, for one, have my tenner ready to tuck into the garter. “Go on love, show us yer concourse!”

Well, dear readers, this morning the four red capitals no one wants to see (FULL) greeted me as I approached Swingate. Two other cars were ahead of me, so around we all turned in messy 3-pointers and headed off to the alternatives.

Pulling out on to Lytton Way, you have two next-best options. Danesgate is a good bet, it fills up later and it’s not too far from the station – plus I like to think it’s a good overnight spot because it’s opposite the police station (not that it’s a factor today).

Daneshill is a bit of a loop round but you end up just as close to the station as Swingate – with the added bonus of being handier for the bingo if you’re that way inclined. In truth, it’s nearby whether you like bingo or not.

Thoughtfully, they’ve erected a sign on the corner telling you if there are spaces in Daneshill so you can make a snap decision between Daneshill and Danesgate. It sounds complicated but even after a rotten night’s sleep, I can still manage this level of split second decision-making.

As luck would have it, Daneshill was advertising spaces. Bingo, I thought (are you following me?).

There’s always a worry that the cars on front of you will take the last spaces and that just as you pull up to the barrier those for red letters will come back to haunt you. Well, blow me, if you remember as far back as the title for this post, you’ll know I bagged the last space in Daneshill. And what a curious little spot it is.

It’s an awkward little corner, tucked in behind another car. If you insist on knowing all the ins and outs, I had to pull a 5-pointer first in order to reverse in – minding the cement  bollards for good measure. It’s like the Krypton Factor for parking. And THEN I have to go and spend the day at work! Lunacy gone mad.

Now he’s back, on the other side of Lytton Way (no bridge-jumping Paul!) appearing at the Gordon Craig theatre with Jimmy Greaves. Is Ian St John dead, does anyone know?

Together at last.

Now I love a good footie anecdote and these two will be regaling  the audience with some beauties, I have no doubt. After all, it really IS a funny old game.

My worry is 2 people with well-documented struggles with alcohol left to their own devices after the show in a strange town – and all the other towns on their extensive UK tour.

“Another Perrier Greavsie?”

“No thanks Gazza, I’m taking it easy tonight.”

I just hope Mrs Greavsie is in close attendance – and that she isn’t leading the charge…

And for the record, there is infinite love in my heart for Gazza. And that probably goes for the rest of the country too. Do a good show, guys.