40th Anniversary Runrig concert. (That's 13 years longer than I've been alive!)

Monday 24^th March.

Definitely a Radio Stars song day. I am not even going to deign to write anything else.

Tuesday 25^th March.

Dad came down today for tomorrow’s Runrig gig at the City Hall. (With Louisa of course) I am beginning to feel like a United Nations special envoy keeping Dad and Gran apart. She is at Mum’s all week to spend Mother’s day with three generations of women from her family next Sunday, if she knew Dad was at mine there would be trouble. I mean trouble.

Luckily he spent the day over in Leeds visiting the newest member of the clan again, my new niece Sophie. Once again he raided the Indian on the way back so I had a lovely Jalfrezi for my meal, Laura had her usual Rogan Josh. Why do Indian meals never taste quite the same when you make them at home?

He is going back up to Cumbria on Thursday, unless he and Gran bump into each other, then there could be ructions. He has completed his teaching load for his semester and so is footloose and planning a break away for the holidays. They are going to see Uncle Hilmar in Cochem again. He wasn’t very well after Christmas and they want to cheer to the old boy up with tales of dystopian England. Hilmar is convinced Germany lost the war but won the peace! He could be right!

I have asked Dad to bring back some more wine. I have almost run out of the white we bought from Hilmar at Christmas. I’ve rationed the Dornfelder but we’ve been drinking the white as though it’s water!

Wednesday March 26^th.

The event of the day, Runrig. Sheffield City Hall. 7.30pm. No support. Interval at about 9pm and then more Runrig. Mrs Briggs told me she had bought tickets for the show as she wanted to see what sort of music would drag me away from my normal Classical metier. This was a complete surprise. I had to warn her about two things: a) it would be very, very loud and b) she would meet my Dad and step-mother.

She told me, in tones reminiscent of my mother scolding a recalcitrant pupil, that she had been to Pop concerts before in the past and knew they would be loud and that she was looking forward to seeing my father as she wanted to gauge how far the apple had fallen. That told me, didn’t it?

We actually met her & partner in the bar before the show started, ordering interval drinks (how bourgeois for a pop concert). I felt like cringing as Dad came across as the aged swinger and tried to portray me as the boring old fart for listening mainly to Classical Music. Sometimes I wish I had a wax effigy of him, into which I could jab a very long pin – repeatedly!

Mrs B had an inroad into the conversation with him as she and Mr Carr (one of the partners) seem to have discussed him and me at length as Dad and Mr Carr are old Oxonians together. They were both at Balliol. This made her attitude towards him more of an acquaintance than a complete stranger.

The band were brilliant. I was so impressed. They played a massive selection from right across the years. I knew everything they performed, even the really really old stuff. The place wasn’t sold out though, there were seats available up in the gods (where Mrs Briggs was). I found that kind of disappointing to be honest. The end of the first half was an inspired choice with Book of Golden Stories followed by my all-time favourite Every River closing the half.

During the interval we met up with Mrs B again and she was impressed by what she’d heard, especially Every River. She was surprised there was only one Gaelic song in the first half (I had said there would be lots but there weren’t, which was probably my only quibble).

* I joked about the demographic of the concert audience pointing out that being up in the circle (front row seats) every time the spotlights played on the crowd we were dazzled by the light reflecting of the bald heads below us. To be honest there was a good range of ages and genders here tonight from really old Grannies, who may have been groupies in 1973 when the Run-Rig dance band first started, do toddlers for whom this may have been their first ever concert.

Mrs B. was surprised by how loud the show was, I suppose that if you have never been to a rock concert you will be surprised. I thought it was maybe a little too loud and not mixed all that well for at times Brian Hurren's keyboards were practically indistinct.

I explained to her how I had grown up listening to Rock Music all my life as a toddler, infant, child and then teenager so I probably had a subliminal knowledge of bands that most people of my age don’t have. Dad did confess to being a music junkie although he claims to have been selective in his choices and going for quality over popularity. [I told him he was being a pretentious prat, which made Mrs B gasp. He explained that I was always the first to get the retaliation in! He then did the forehead kiss thing which made me go as red as my top!]

If anything the second half was better than the first if that was possible. Perhaps the audience were more oiled up after the interval? I liked the low key start to the half and the drumming section is always a wow (sound like an expert don't I?)  *

I must admit I was surprised they played Skye in the middle of this half and not as part of the encore. Having said that the encore was six songs long! They had even moved Clash of the Ash up to being an encore song! We came out with our ears singing and Laura said they were even better than Preston (where we’d seen them last, when she and I weren’t even an item!).

After the show Dad said he was starving and did I know of anywhere unusual to go for a late bite. Naturally I took them up to the Lokanta on Broomhill and was surprised to be greeted by name as we walked in. Dad must get the wrong impression of me at times. We had a different dish each so we could share items and we avoided a kebab yet again! We must have been fairly loud because of our ears ringing from the gig and several people looked at us as though we were a nuisance. That was a strange feeling.

We rolled back home at just before 1pm! Phew. Callie was so pleased to see us.

PS Just re-read this and a whole section didn't come over from my diary. It is the * section. April 2nd.

Thursday March 27^th.

After the excitement of yesterday today was, quite understandably, a let-down in terms excitement and really wild things. We left Dad and Louisa still asleep when we left for the Uni and came home to find a clean and tidy kitchen and a couple of 40^th anniversary tour souvenirs which they must have bought while we weren’t looking. Quite a pleasant surprise though.

I had my final meeting of the semester with my tutees planned for today but only three quarters of them made their appointment times; to be fair I did get e-mails and one text telling me they were tied up and could they see me tomorrow? I ok’ed all their requests. Mandy had booked a pre-lunch time slot and then tagged along to join Laura, Feli and I in the refec. I am really pleased with the way she has blossomed over the two semesters so far. She was timid little thing to be honest at first and I think really homesick, but she has definitely found her feet as the year has rolled round. Laura has been given a first again for her last piece of work before we go down and Mr Hewitt has been making even more noises about her going on to do a Masters’ in probability theory. I know this is a subject she just adores.

Gran has been able to get herself and Mum a ticket to come with us to see Cleopatra at the Lyceum tomorrow night, which I am so pleased about. It has had rave right ups and Gran used to love going to watch the ballet when Granda was still around. I think that is where Mum got her love of it from, which she has passed on to her youngest daughter too. We are planning on meeting them at the bar before the show starts. I have just realised this whole blog is full of me and my friends, family and acquaintances drinking alcohol. We are not binge drinking dypsomaniacs, honest. We have a sensible attitude to drink and we do like a swift snorterino every now and then. It oils the social machinery, when used correctly.

When Laura came home tonight she had made her highest ever amount in tips at the restaurant. Over £55! I am gob smacked. I guess people like a pretty face and pleasant manner. If they just knew what she and I get up to when she comes home from work in an evening! Which we did, for quite a long time tonight.