We won’t sit down. We won’t shut up.

This was my first gig since the terrible events in Paris last weekend. As we walked towards Sheffield’s O2, we noticed that the lightbox at the entrance to the Crucible theatre had glowing lights in the blue, white and red of the Tricolour in solidarity with the French people. It’s a moving gesture.

The crowd at the O2 are excited, a sea of Frank turner t-shirts, with a couple of Bar Steward Sons of Val Doonican supporters too. Frank Turner’s audience are dedicated, and this gig is a solid sell-out.

We get there in time to see the opening act, Will Varley. One man and a guitar, he exudes a laid-back, slacker persona, but holds the audience captivated with his mixture of crazy stories, comedy protest songs and sweary charm. I’ll definitely watch out for him in future.

Skinny Lister have quickly become festival favourites of mine. I saw them at Glastonbury last year, and then at Beautiful Days, when the PA cut out halfway through their set opening the main stage on the Friday. A lesser band would have stormed off in a strop, but Skinny Lister led the audience in A capella seashanties and crowdsurfing. Their punky folk goes down well. We’re stood at the front, at the side of the crowd barrier, with a great view of Michael Camino launching himself into the audience on his double bass, a sight not to be forgotten. The worried look on the security team’s faces as he (and his giant instrument) finally climb back over the barrier is really funny, and their set ends with singer Lorna Thomas climbing up the double bass.

It’s only then that I notice that the stage lights of the O2 are also in the colours of blue, white and red. And when Frank Turner takes to the stage, he’s wearing a Tricolour sweatband on his wrist. In the wake of what happened last week, at a gig just like this, it suddenly feels important, an act of defiance to keep on doing what we do, coming together to share a musical experience, listening to songs that mean so much to the people here. Tonight, Frank’s message of togetherness, love and having a good time while you can take on an extra significance.

We watch the second half of the gig from the upstairs balcony, where you can watch the audience as much as the band. Their devotion to Frank is enormous – during the quiet bits, there’s a reverential silence in the room, becoming a mighty roar in the sing-along choruses. There’s even a round of star-jumps, led by a crew member.

I’ve always loved watching Frank Turner live. I first discovered him at YNot festival in 2008, and I’ve seen him at a variety of festivals ever since. I felt a bit ambivalent about him, having discovered how posh his upbringing was. But it’s not where you come from in life, it’s what you do.

And when Frank Turner talks about last Friday’s attack on Eagles of Death Metal gig at the Bataclan in Paris, and the death of innocent people, including merchandise manager Nick Alexander, everyone is listening. For me, and millions of others, a gig is much more than a noisy room where you can buy an overpriced pint of lager. It’s where you come together to meet the other members of your tribe, experience the magic and wonder of live music, and share those emotional moments with people who care about them as much as you do. We won’t sit down, we won’t shut up, and if growing up means sitting in our homes alone, being scared of terrorists, we certainly won’t grow up.

 

Advertisements

Sunbathing and sautering on the Cote d’Bradfield. In November!

Hello! Long time no see. I’ve been having a whirlwind of a time recently, so I apologise for my lack of festival reviews, witty insights and updates about my life and my writing.

I was busy for Halloween last night, at a wonderful handfasting wedding ceremony. It was great – a very moving, entertaining ceremony. I’ve never been to a wedding before where most of the guests were in Halloween fancy dress!

This morning, I had a great lie-in and a cosy read and relax. I realised that the weather was too good to miss – clear blue skies and warm sunshine. After brunch, I jumped into my car and drove to one of my favourite spots for walking, Damflask Reservoir at Lower Bradfield, only eight miles away from the centre of Sheffield. The countryside is absolutely glorious, at any time of the year, and I’m sure that the village green, with its cricket pitch, should feature in a Yorkshire Tea advert.

By the time I’d walked around the shadier side of the reservoir, I’d stripped off to my t-shirt, and I sat basking on a bench in the village with a can of pop and a packet of crisps from Bradfield’s village shop. I couldn’t resist a bonfire toffee lolly either, and enjoyed it while strolling along in the sunshine.

Anyway, it’s now time for you to enjoy the photographs of an amazing afternoon, filled with mirror-still water, people enjoying the sunshine, and golden autumnal colours at their best.

Things this blog is about…