Its nearly 35 years ago that I first saw the Eagles in Stafford. Even I wasn't sad enough to keep the ticket - the one above is for sale on eBay for a cool $45 and you don't actually see the band!
The guys I travelled with to the concert (from Stoke in a Triumph Herald) became my house mates for the following two years and we became rather partial to draft bass, as the aroma in the house the following day would prove. In one of our houses we used to take a jug across the road to a corner shop that sold draught bass!
I've seen the Eagles. four times since and last night I saw their tribute band, Talon, for the fifth time. I've not touched any alcohol for a while but I would imagine a pint of bass would cost more than the 1977 concert.
But it wasn't the bass that caused the problem last night but the bass. Confused? Blame the English language for having two words spelt the same but with difference meanings. My ears cannot stand it when the bass is so loud that it causes a vibration and the excess last night took the shine off a night that was enjoyed by the majority of a packed Gaiety Theatre.
On the plus side, I thought the age profile of the audience made a meeting of veteran athletes seem like a children's party and me reasonably young.
Marie is away this weekend and so I'll have more time to prepare for what will be an eventful few days of athleteic related events including a party on Saturday night, a walking race on Sunday morning, interviewing Maurice Herriott on Tuesday, attending the Walk Talk on Tuesday and going to the cross country presentation also on Tuesday.
I also need to plan my cooking. My brother, Martin, is a keen fisherman - I'll ask him if he can get me a nice piece of bass.
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