Sunday night was a great night. I've waited 21 years for this and was not disappointed; I went to The Police concert at Twickenham.
I expected to see a bunch of tired old coppers, but no way. Sting, Stewart & Andy were full of beans. Sting, well you expect him to look as he did back in the '80s. Apart from the glasses, Stewart is as energetic a drummer as ever and Andy now sports a generous turkey neck.
Being a young fogey, I just wanted to hear old familiar tunes and that's what I got. Nice. I knew there was no new material, so that was a safe bet.
Actually, we had a great surprise bonus we we arrived at the stadium. I'd bought £45 seats up in the gods and the ticket chap said that as we were early, we had the option of upgrading. Of course, I had my suspicions even though he looked official and working within the premises. We took the plunge and by golly we were given £70 tickets in the lower tier. No fear of nose bleeds now.
Of course, I really wanted to take my camera, but didn't want to go through the indignity of having my memory card erased (35mm is so last century). Well, I found photos on the interweb, so I can pretend I took them.
The journey home was a mission. It took over an hour just to get to Twickenham train station. I'll cut to the chase and tell you lovely listeners that it took 3½ hours to get home. There weren't even any deviations to pubs, mad cow burger bars or kebab shops with ugly signs. It was meant to be a simple journey home on public transport. Somehow, even this couldn't ruin my night out.