Aged p's join the mosh pit whilst uncle four stripes babysits the house. Well the golf was on with a Guinness fridge. We hit the Heather Small gig.
Heather Small. Picturedrome. Always liked her in M People and with her first husband, Sean Edwards. It will be the last gig we do. Buxton Opera House or Manchester Arena/Bridgewater Hall preferred.
No seating in the stalls, all mosh pit. Quadriceps work out, standing for two and a half hours. Hot, drenched in sweat.
The first note, so-called intro, punched us hard in the chest. Bass, drums or keyboard. Then so loud. Couldn't hear the words, but it didn't matter because everybody else knew them.
Several other couples our vintage. Stood watching, listening. The rest just went mad. Jumping, arms in the air, hair flying, bumping into everyone. Not offensive, just enjoying themselves.
Nearly as bad as being at a match with All Black rugby supporters, but not quite. They can be offensive.
Somewhere we were searching for heroes and wondering what we did today. Quite an experience and fun, really.
A couple of nips with Chris watching the final holes.
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