On third viewing I think I enjoyed it even more. Nothing went wrong, Kate sang like a nightingale (or is that blackbird) and I cried all over again.
I'm back again tonight for the last show and am taking Stuart, Mike and Toby.
And I got this from Toby this morning:-
"Around 36 years ago, a sensitive young boy in Kent was twirling around his parents' living room (doubtless emulating Wonder Woman) when he tripped on the shag-pile carpet, fell and split open his upper lip on the corner of a clunky 1970s glass coffee table. With blood pouring down his chin - and no hospital emergency department in town - the boy was taken to the on-call doctor and had his lip painfully stitched back together. The boy was, of course, me, but the doctor was none other than DOCTOR BUSH, father of Kate Bush, my first musical inspiration. I bore that scar on my lip for many years, proudly pointing to the bump and telling anyone who'd listen of my unique claim to fame: "Kate Bush's father sewed up my lip!". I always though that would be the closest I'd ever come to my heroine and, as the years passed and both Kate and my scar faded from public view, I gave up on ever being able to see her perform in real life. Well, tonight all that changes, as I attend the concert I feel like I've been waiting my whole life to see. And it's all thanks to the thoughtfulness of one very kind friend. Sincerely, thank you, Jonathan. What dreams await....!"
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.