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Saturday, May 28, 2011

Having looked down my nose at a woman with syphilis, and considered carving my name into the Evelyn Tables, I left the Hunterian Museum at 3pm on Wednesday and hobbled back to Temple, where I prayed for some healing for my heel and hopped on the tube to Westminster. It was there that I discovered they'd shut half the Jubilee line due to signal failure, and cut off the oxygen to the O2.

So instead of having a mean time in Greenwich, I spent ten minutes outside Tesco Express, texting my brother to say I'd be late. I then took this photo to prove where I was...


... before going underground to face my Waterloo via the Northern line. I eventually rolled up in North Greenwich forty minutes later...

Spikey Hair
Fortunately my brother's more driven than I am, so whilst I'd hurt my heel with a low carbon footprint, he'd got to the O2 by car. He might have paid seventeen quid to park, but I'd paid with my ability to walk. Frankly I was so close to disability, I could have got into the wheelchair section of the arena.

But the good news is that the O2 has plenty of places to sit. And most of them involve eating. So I was soon popping some ibuprofen with a peanut butter & chocolate milkshake in the Armadillo Cafe & Grill. It was like liquidised Snickers with ice cream. Which was appropriate as I felt like I'd just run a marathon. Fortunately the medicinal milkshake did the trick, and within half an hour I was back on my feet and bouncing around with my brother like a middle-aged Jedward...


As for the concert, well I think a 21st century Rush gig is best summed up by this photo...


It's basically twenty thousand bald spots. So with my arthritis, hair-loss, dodgy foot and paunch, I fitted right in.

Having grown up with a Rush fan in the family, I heard most of their songs through my brother's bedroom wall, so I was hoping we'd be sat behind a pillar for that authentic muffled sound. But sadly we had a clear view of the stage, and unobstructed acoustics. So especially for JC of Milton Keynes, here's their opening number, courtesy of someone half a mile closer to the stage...


The version I filmed was closer to the Spirit of Radio. It was crackly and with no kind of visuals.

Anyhoo, for three blokes the wrong side of fifty, Rush were very good indeed. And surprisingly for men of their age, they didn't have any support. Having taken to the stage at 7:45pm, they played until ten to eleven, stopping briefly at 9pm for a mug of Horlicks and a Werther's Original. So the Rush hour was more like three. And it was time well spent. Here's Geddy Lee slapping that bass in front of a stage set modelled on the Albert Square launderette...


As the slogan says, "Real time, half time, bass time, sausage time". I couldn't have put it better myself. Although a more appropriate phrase would have been 'bed time'. As in 'past my'.

By the time I'd staggered outside and taken this photo...


... it was well on the way to the witching hour. I eventually arrived home at 1:45am, knackered, with sore feet and a partial hearing loss. Frankly the only rocking I can do these days is in a chair.

5 comments:

Lisa said...

It worked well for Val Doonican.

Phil's Mum said...

At least you got your moneys-worth.  And Rush proved its the old folk who have the stamina.  A younger band would have only played for an hour! 

jon the bassist said...

Phil, thanks for thinking of me and making me endure another version of 'spitit at the radio'
You and bro seem to have superglued your hands to your trousers in the 'authorised cameras' O2 pic. Was this necessary to NOT interupt the prolonged soloing of the pretentious trio during their 18 hour performance?

Dave said...

I have no idea what this post was about.

Phil said...

I take it Cary Grant didn't do many Rush covers then?