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Tuesday, 29 December 2009

Good Evening Macca!

Last Tuesday, me, Mr G, our friend Tank and my Dad all set off for London to watch Sir Paul McCartney at the O2 Arena.

For starters I'm amazed the train wasn't cancelled as there were 6 snowflakes still intact at Plymouth station, but fortunately for us the train ploughed on through the treacherous conditions to get us safely to our destination.

A quick scan of the Showbiz section in The Sun newspaper revealed that a whole host of famous people would be in attendance. I pictured myself sat next to Stella McCartney, acting cool as she informed me she was a fan of the blog, and her calling over Kate Moss who would playfully punch me on the arm for the "Nothing Tastes as Good As Skinny Feels" story, then we'd all laugh and Stella would ask me to be the new face of her latest fragrance...

Lunch in Leicester Square was followed by a quick stop to Harrods to pick up a Christmas Pud for my mother before heading to the arena.

Thinking it would be a nice treat for Christmas Day, my Dad almost bought some half price crackers in Harrods until he realised that the reduced price was £400 and very loudly put them back on the shelf. I ran back to have a look at what exactly came inside £400 crackers and was slightly horrified to discover nothing more exciting than a pair of Swarovski crystal earrings, a silver-plated pen, and a plastic moustache that you insert up your nostrils (I made up the last one).

Mr G and Tank went off to take their photos walking across a zebra crossing at Abbey Road, whilst my Dad was fortunate enough to accompany me on a hunt for the Louboutin shoe section, and got to watch whilst I closed my eyes and held up a £900 pair of purple metallic snakeskin heels, whispering "Oh yes! They will be mine!" a la Wayne out of Wayne's World. Ooh, except of course he was saying it about a guitar, not a pair of shoes. You get what I mean...

Anyway, I digress.
I'd never been to the O2 Arena before, and it was so much better than I had imagined. I had no idea it would be so huge! I was so busy faffing about outside trying to take a photo of three signs saying "Good", "Evening" and "London" by the time I caught up with the others I had totally missed a real-life celebrity in the form of Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter (I do know it's not his real name). To Mr G's humiliation, I attempted to run after him with my camera but lost him.
I'm still quite devastated about that actually. Draco seems like a nice chap in interviews and I'm sure he wouldn't have minded being on the blog, after all, the Harry Potter franchise could do with a bit of publicity.

Inside we got a couple of beers and went to find our seats before it got too busy. The others charged ahead leaving me trailing behind counting seat numbers. Thankfully there was nobody else in our row yet so I didn't have to inconvenience anyone by clambering past them (that came later when the single pint of beer I had consumed converted itself into approximately 500 litres of wee, warranting 6 loo breaks in the space of 2 hours during the show).
As I made it to my seat, I noticed an unattended laptop bag about 2 spaces away from me. I looked around but there was nobody near it.
I leaned forward to the people in front;
"Uhhh, excuse me? Did you see anyone in this seat?"
They shook their heads. I asked the people in the row behind. Negative.

"Ummmm, Dad, do you think I should go and tell someone about that bag? It doesn't seem to belong to anyone" I asked.

Dad was too busy remarking "I can't believe that!" in astonishment at the pint-sized cup holder in the arm of his chair to worry about a minor security threat.

With that, I was out of my seat and striding purposefully towards one of the stewards.
"Excuse me. I'm sure it's nothing but there's a bag down there. I've asked around but nobody knows who it belongs to."

The steward followed me back for a better look, prodding around at the bag and raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Hmmm, yes it does seem to be unattended, doesn't it? I'd better call my supervisor" he declared before racing off in the direction of the nearest exit.

"What are you doing love?!" Snapped Mr G, who had previously informed me that going to see Paul McCartney was "the most exciting day of his life" - yes, above our wedding.

"I've just reported a security issue, love!" I proudly told him.

"What did you do that for?! They'll evacuate the whole bloody building now!" He snarled at me.
"I doubt it love! They'll just carry it to lost property I expect!" I laughed nervously.
"No...They'll have to get the bomb squad in to blow it up!" He infomed me.

Would they? Better to be safe than sorry.

The steward reappeared with a supervisor and they both stood eyeing the bag suspiciously.
They had a whispered discussion and scuttled off again.

Just then, a man strolled into our row and sat down on his own, with the bag.
The supervisor reappeared and asked the man if the bag belonged to him, then gave him a proper telling off for leaving it unattended. Idiot.

Sir Paul, who had probably been taken to Beatle Force 1 as a precaution, would be telling his assistant to find me so he could personally thank me after the show for saving his life.

We were kept waiting for the show to start, so I amused myself by maxing out the zoom on my camera and taking photos of people in executive boxes to see if I could spot anyone famous. I could not.

Eventually, Macca burst onto the stage and sang his little heart out for almost three hours without so much as a sip of water. Bearing in mind the man is nearly 70, that's pretty impressive.

When he sang the acoustic numbers like Blackbird, there was complete silence from the audience, it was amazing. I've been to loads of concerts but never experienced that before. It was lovely hearing the song stripped back as it was intended without some loser wolf-whistling all over the chorus.

I felt really special when he came out for a second encore and felt sure that it was in part due not only to my very loud cheering, but also my earlier concern for Sir Paul's safety that we were treated to some unscheduled songs.

That bubble was quite ceremoniously burst when an entire troupe of bagpipers in full Scottish regalia marched out onto the stage for The Mull of Kintyre, and I realised it had been planned all along.

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