When I saw that Depeche Mode were to venture north for the 1st time this century - I thought, ya beauty - and I was right on to get tickets for Young Anne and me. A December Saturday night out in Glas-f-gow to look forward to. This was only May, but hey just you listen, when you get out as often as me - one must take the plunge and go play.
Come nearer the time, I was feeling fine, but of course that flu, is really a swine. So, Chemo, low blood-count and a large crowd of the great unwashed made it seem a bit risky for my low immunity mode. Stayed at home like a grouchy old toad. However, Young Anne and her pal called Fran, went wild west and had a real top wan. By the way.
So good for her and home for me, but it wasn't the only one I failed to see. Because if missing Depeche wasn't enough, I missed the Specials part II and wasn't chuffed. There was, however, a little consultation, when gig buddy Marty said it didn't match our Spring trip from Waverley station.
I can't pretend that its all been bad, you'd think I was turning a sad old fool - as I did get to see Keir and the orchestra from school. Would it be safe, should I go, 130 kids with noses to blow? But how could I not, for my (not so) tiny tot, up on stage with his P7 lot. Glad I went, it wasn't that bad, and I was there as a proud old dad.
So not quite gig-less if orchestra's count, but gutted about Depeche without a doubt.