The Pigeon Detectives were predictably brilliant, and the venue in Camden had a really cool raised accessible area, where myself and another wheelie ( female , about 30 ) were guided to ( round the back, through the side streets of Camden, past the addicts, past the Rasta guy playing his boombox, with 3 alcoholics of about 60 dancing to it –  essential Red Stripe cans held aloft , through 2 sets of barricaded metal gates, and up a long ramp to a back door ). I’m not sure if the club is expecting a post Armageddon Zombie apocalypse attack, but they certainly seem prepared, just in case…

The reason I got the tickets ( and I had seen them play before, pre my injury ) was thus :

(2 weeks ago)

Amber : I’m going to go and see a band.

Me: oh really, who?

A: The Pigeon Detectives

Me: Really ? When ?

A: March 15th

Me: Who with?

A: My friends

Me: Where?

A: London

Me: But where?

A: I said, London

Me: Have you got tickets ?

A : Not yet

Me: Is a parent taking you?

A ( bit shouty ) : NO

Me: I’ll go on line and look for tickets

A: grunt

(30 minutes later)

Me: Got 2 tickets !

A: another grunt

Me: I’ve named you as my carer, so you can give me a hand, and get a good view, and get into the club ok..

A : I’m not going with YOU!

Me : How else do you expect to get in then,  with one of your little friends….?

A:  Well easily

Me: Have you got false ID, then ?

A : No, but I’m NOT going with YOU!

Me : Amber, it’s in Camden, it’s a pretty rough venue, it’ll be late, and Amber… you’re 12 years old.

A: SO WHAT !!?!!?!??

So I thank Amber for the heads up that they were playing, but it was a shame that she didn’t come in the end…

 

 

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