Skip to main content

Welcome to Happytown

Sunglasses when it's dark? Check. Rock God? Check.

Brace yourselves, I’ve got some shocking news. My faith in humanity has been restored. In London.

That’s a lot to process, isn’t it? First off, I can reassure you that I haven’t been kidnapped and a cheerier, equally dashing, doppelganger parachuted in to replace me. It’s fair to point out that this may also be a fleeting version of me, destined to have evaporated like the mist on a sunny morning by the time you read this.

But hey – I’m in a happy place for the time being. All thanks to a trip to Wembley Stadium last Saturday to see Jeff Lynne’s Electric Light Orchestra. I haven’t been there for 25 years... or ever, if you take into account the fact that it’s been replaced since I went to the Freddie Mercury Tribute concert in ’92.

True, the day could have started better. As we approached Arnside station in the car, a train was rattling across the viaduct, accompanied by a dawning realisation that we’d got the departure time wrong. I really didn’t know I could still run that fast. Or pant that loudly in a quiet carriage.

The normal tension of a countryside-dweller visiting London melted away on the tube, when we struck up a conversation with some fellow fans (which presumably broke several by-laws).

If that wasn’t already somewhat over-chummy by the capital’s standards, the thorough security checks to get in were delightfully good-natured and friendly (getting felt-up at my age is a bonus, too), and inside the stadium it got even better. This was by far the most welcoming gig I’ve ever been too. People chatted warmly, many seemingly knew each other, and a guy I’ve never met complimented me on my T-shirt.

Every era of ELO was represented, from 70s satin bomber jackets and vintage tour Ts, to people in sky blue suits with white clouds on. The concert was glorious – I have never seen so many happy people in one place, singing madly along and grinning like it was all their birthdays and Christmases put together.

Afterwards, the inevitable queue along Wembley Way to get to the tube station (normally about as much fun as tipping spaghetti into a Dyson Airblade whilst wearing you best white suit) became a joy too. Someone was playing “YMCA”, and suddenly hundreds of people were singing along and performing the accompanying dance. Even our hotel-bound pit-stop for something to drink was boosted by a chat with a polite and friendly homeless guy (who got Mrs G’s planned breakfast).

On Sunday, tired and a bit croaky, we clambered onto our train home to be greeted by two very American ladies at our allocated seats who welcomed us “to the cool table”. We traded gig stories, and chatted about their trip to Glasgow and “Edingburrow”.

What a weekend. I’m smiling again now, just thinking about it.

Maybe I should put the news on the TV – that should have me back to my miserable self faster than you can say “In the House of Commons today...”

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in The Mail, on the 30th of June 2017. Both the print edition and the version used on the paper's website changed the title to "Don't bring me down from my ELO high". Nice work there, and better than my effort. I did consider using an ELO song title somehow, but shied away from it as I wrote a review of the Manchester gig last year, and wanted this to be more about the whole experience. The online version also used the photo I submitted.

In a major 'small world' moment, it turned out that a friend was going to Wembley just a few days later to see Adele. Cumbria is a long way to travel from for a gig in the capital, so we have to take it in turns, or there's no-one left to look after the sheep.

Coincidentally (and a bit spookily) one of the American ladies on the train was going to see Adele, on the original last night, and then the actual last night, after she added another date. I see from the news this morning that a croaky Adele has cancelled both. Ooh. Bummer.

Hello from the other side! (of the pond.)

(CD A-Z: Pink Floyd's "The Early Singles". Psychedelicalicious!)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...

The Schaf Shuffle

The weather – source of endless fascination, conversation, irritation and (just recently) excess irrigation. And a fidgety weather presenter on the BBC... I’m endlessly fascinated with the weather, and will confess to making sure I catch the BBC’s updates whenever possible. Not the local ones, where half the presenters look like they got dressed in the dark, or ITV, where they seem to know very little about actual weather, but the national forecasts. Delivered by actual Met Office personnel, their job entails a tricky mix of waving your hands about a bit, explaining about warm fronts without smirking, and trying not to look too pleased whilst mentioning gales force winds and torrential rain. Or stand in front of Cornwall. Each has their own presenting style, but there is one who intrigues me above all the others. Step forward, Tomasz Schafernaker, the 37 year old man from the Met who breezed onto our screens in 2001, as the youngest male ever to point out that it was going to r...

RIP Jenwis Hamilbutton

We are gathered here in this... (looks round a bit) um... blog, to mourn the passing of Jenwis Hamilbutton. His life may have been short and largely irrelevant, but he touched the lives of so many people that... sorry? Oh. Apparently that was someone else... Jenwis Hamilbutton rose briefly to fame on twitter during 2010, when he was retweeted by BBC F1 presenter Jake Humphrey, having criticised his shirt. A similarly unspectacular claim to fame occurred when a tweet he crafted at 1am on a windy night appeared in F1 Racing magazine. An amalgam of bits of Formula 1 drivers Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button (mostly the hopeless bits), he came into existence via 3 pints of cider, a Creme Egg and the Electric Light Orchestra’s mournful 1986 farewell album “Balance Of Power”, played loudly over headphones. In his short existence, he was followed on twitter by Paul Hardcastle of “19” fame, and a bunch of slightly odd but jolly nice people, whom he was never entirely sure actually exist...