This is the sort of thing I like best; blogging merrily away when I’ve not had to do a thing. (Other than wait up by the phone to hear that Daughter returned ‘home’ safely after gallivanting all over Scotland for John Barrowman’s concerts.)
This year was hard. Not as bad as when I delayed buying tickets and we ended up not going, but when the tickets went on sale in the spring she had no idea where she’d be once the concert dates came round. So with a shortlist of favoured university and insurance university, she bought more than one ticket.
And just to be safe (hah!) she bought tickets for both the Scottish venues. Luckily it was the Scottish ones she could use. Trouble is the country is larger than it looks and fitting in travelling between lectures and things was no easy feat. But she did it, and I can now blog off her efforts.
The fact that she’s been asleep in today’s lectures (only joking!) doesn’t matter. Apparently the Scottish concerts are the best, because John allows himself to be Scottish, rather than American. And in Glasgow last night the audience linked arms and joined him in the singing, making him cry. Fitting end to a tour finishing in John’s home town.
And what could be nicer than the sun rising over the Forth railway bridge on a sunny November morning?