Last night, my five minute beauty regime consisted of a quick face wash and rummaging through the bathroom cabinet to choose whatever old eyeliner, mascara and makeup brushes would look least likely to give me an eye infection. Then I applied some lipstick which promptly snapped off at the base. Of course, by this stage, I was gaining an audience ("Mum, you look different"/"I don't like it") so I gave my girls a sweep of lippy too and off they went happily, leaving me to get dressed in relative peace.
We gave our girls a cuddle and kiss goodbye and headed out to the show with me wearing two odd socks, but at least my top was clean.
It's quite a novel feeling being at a concert and realising you might quite possibly be amongst the youngest there. The concert was very mellow and Bryan was amazing to watch live, singing almost continuously for two hours with just him and his guitar and a fantastic, accompanying pianist. Some of my favourites of the evening were Summer of '69 and Straight from the Heart. If there was one gripe, it was the women, let's say, of a certain age, screaming at him to take his shirt off. Wrong show, ladies. Yelling it out once is funny, four or five times is cringeworthy. That dude is OLD, we don't need to see his muscle wastage.
If I had a decent cellphone I would have taken photos but really, it would not have done justice to capture the atmosphere, so I had a little scrounge on Youtube and found this teaser clip.
Thanks Bryan, I'm in Heaven.