A big night out

They had been looking forward to it for weeks, if not months!

He had planned his outfit with thought and precision. The t shirt he had bought at that concert 20 years ago was due an airing and his leather jacket hidden at the back of the wardrobe would be perfect .

Her outfit however was new and carefully put together. She knew someone who had been before and had told her the best things to wear to feel part of it all. So even though it wasn’t something she would usually wear she dressed with half appreciation, half apprehension.

They arrived early, so went to the bar,  holding their drinks carefully while the crowd jostled around them. Through the crowd he noticed a colleague from the office…Colin… looking slightly out of place (he thought) in a tailored jacket, well cut jeans and a cotton shirt. He wouldn’t have thought this was his bag.

Time passed and more and more similarly dressed, similarly aged people arrived. Conversations around them swooped in and out of their hearing, but they could hear people comparing experiences and boasting about how many times they had “done it” and who had “done it” the furthest distance from home. The atmosphere was building and voices were getting louder and louder until the doors suddenly opened.

Glasses were drained, jackets straightened, handbags retrieved and two by two the excited, middle aged crowd followed each other into the dark.

Seats were found, bodies arranged, distance glasses slid onto noses, then conversations ended as the lights dimmed,

The stage lit up in a bright explosion of colour as the first strains of the guitar caused a ripple of recognition around the theatre. Fingers drummed on the knees of jeans, feet tapped in comfortable shoes, and words were mouthed along with the singer.

The songs, after all those many years, sounded the same. The singer looked as young as ever. The lead guitarist had not lost any of his skill. Basically they all looked and sounded as though time had stood still.

Could it?

Could it really be 40 years since they had hit after hit ?

The songs were locked into so many people’s histories. The guitar solos contributed to the soundtrack to so many  lives.

The people on their feet, dancing in the aisles and clapping in the air were thrilled to once again adore their memories.

When it was all over, they left the building, expressing delight at being there. At being there once again, after all these years. T shirts were bought on the way out. Albums were paid for and held possessively as they walked back to their cars.

Once again the Tribute Band had delighted and entertained .

(run into the shadows)



4 thoughts on “A big night out

  1. This was great.
    I don’t know why your posts don’t appear in my email. I am following.
    I tried again on the side bar…

    Great post!
    This reminded me of when I first saw the Stones at Kings Hall, Manchester sometime in the 19th century, I think.
    I was 13 and bunked school. ( got a weeks’ detention for my trouble)

    A few years back I took my own teenage children to see them perform at Ellis Park Rugby Stadium here in Johannesburg, South Africa
    What a night!
    To hear Jagger try to greet the crowd in Afrikaans was hilarious.
    And when he asked if the crowd felt like singing, and then broke into ”Miss You.”
    Aaah! A night to remember. My kids thought it was fantastic.

    Oh, and for what its worth, I still have a rose petal that Jagger through
    out to the crowd during Angie.

    It is embossed in plastic with the ticket.
    The ticket says: Rolling Stones
    Kings Hall Manchester.


    • Oddly enough, Mr. Powell, my year tutor, wasn’t that cross, especially as I told him the truth as to why I bunked and didn’t try to wheedle my way out of what was coming with a sick note. Anyhow, after a perfunctory lecture about “responsibilities” ( homework and all that crap; which I had covered in any case) he leaned forward slightly across the desk and said with a grin.
      “What was it like?”
      I’ll never forget it. It is one of my treasured school memories.
      No kid thinks grown-ups are ”cool” and certainly not a tweed-jacketed balding, lanky school teacher.
      After that, he always acknowledged me with a knowing smile or a nod if ever we passed each other in the corridor.

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