Sunday morning in Manchester

So, we've done it. After 10 years we can finally say, for a fact, that Victoria Baths will be open again. After winning the BBC's Restoration programme in an agonising Live Final, we are on our way. The weekend was a record for the Baths in terms of visitor numbers, and miles travelled be members of the Trust and the Friends.

After a hectic week starting with our Monthly open day on Sunday, an art exhibition, the Baths being open every day, the opening of the phone lines for the final, and our normal day jobs, we arrived at the first of two heritage open days, tired, excited, anxious, and full of nervous energy, to see the a queue of people snaking around the side of the building. The sounds of chattering rang up and down the line, and we almost had to fight our way through the gates to get in and open up. Those of us conducting tours decide to throw caution to the wind and abandon the timetables; tours will now go constantly and on our heads be it. Misty's Café from Longsight who are doing our catering, have brought many times more food than last week after running out half way through the afternoon. And despite our attempts to be strict and not open until midday, by 11.55 I'm already on my second tour, and so is Tony.

Supporters next to the Tower of London

The Males 1st Class Entrance hall is full of people waiting for a tour. We decide to put a traffic control system in place as we're rapidly approaching chaos here, and so Chandy is drafted in to shout at people and keep them in line. This seems to do the trick, but nothing can stop the tour groups growing in size. At the peak in the afternoon, some of the groups number 40, and we're almost running around the building, shouting, 'if you look to your left you will see The Angel of Purity, whilst to your right is Lake Geneva.' Tour groups keep catching each other up, queues start forming in the Turkish, and Misty's look like they're going to run out of cake again!

Amongst this madness there is serious thought to be given to tomorrow. 10 of us are being flown to London for the Live Final as representatives of the Baths. Which means that we will be 10 volunteers down for the second half of what might very well be our busiest day ever. New tour guides are hurriedly trained up, old ones brought out of retirement, cobwebs dusted off and smelling salts applied. Banners are being made in the 2nd Class Males hall, shouts being trialled.

We finally close the doors at 7.30 after having almost 1700 people round. Neil quite rightly points out that what we need now is a Turkish Bath. There still being the small matter of £3.5 million to deal with, we all decide to go home and rest instead. Tomorrow will be a long day.

And so it is. After even longer queues in the morning, even bigger tour groups, even quicker tours, and ever more garbled exhortations to vote, ('Remember this face', I tell my tour groups. 'If you don't want to see it crying on live television tonight, then please vote.' Probably blackmail, but losing the Baths is not an option.) I finish my last tour with seconds to spare and have to run from the building to jump in the taxi that's waiting, and we're off to the airport. Neil hands leaflets out in the traffic jams, at the airport, on the plane. The cabin staff at VLM ask the other passengers to vote for us. Most people think we are odd, but Victoria Baths will never be beaten by lack of enthusiasm.

Ian heads for London