Perhaps he was worried about his bald patch

I do love live music, and we are really lucky here being close enough to both Edinburgh and Glasgow to go in either direction, depending on where the music is. (There’s a picture in my brain now of us leaning out of the car window and following a cartoon-stream of little minims and crotchets down tiny rutted country lanes.) Last night we were in Glasgow – on a work-night, shock horror – to see Cowboy Junkies.

I also really love unusual venues, and this was definitely one of those – they were playing in Cowboy junkiesthe foyer of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery. The accoustics were interesting, the temperature was frigid and the visibility was limited, but the atmosphere was buzzing and Cowboy Junkies were so good. Handsome sat through the second and third encores with the best silly grin on his face – the kind of grin you have when Margo Timmons has already sung all your favourite songs and she has just launched into a Neil Young cover.

It would have been absolutely perfect if I hadn’t had a kind of tallish bloke two or three rows in front of me who kept his hat on throughout. I know it was cold, but really? If I had been sitting close enough I would have asked him very nicely to please be considerate to those of us who are only just over five feet tall, but as I wasn’t, and no-one else did, and we were at the stone-wall end of the row, I just stood. It was simpler, and I probably got a better view anyway.

And it’s easier to dance when you’re standing…

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