I can’t possibly write on the theme ‘Red Letter Day’ without
mentioning The Moody Blues. Sorry if you’ve heard it all before and if you know
me you will have had chapter and verse for years – I’ll try to keep it brief.
I’ve lost count of how many concerts I’ve attended and which
towns and cities I’ve stayed in ‘on tour’. I loved being on my home turf at the
Manchester Apollo, 2004, waiting outside after the show, as close to their tour
bus as possible. This ritual has rewarded me many times with waves, smiles,
autographs and photos, usually in the nano-second it takes for a band member to
emerge from the stage door and climb onto the huge, state-of-the-art motor home
style of transport and disappear behind the one-way windows. I stepped inside
once. Invited, of course, not gate-crashing. I was allowed up the steps into
the front, next to the driver from where I could pass my concert programme to
the guys for signing. They were on the other side of a low partition. Breathless with excitement, I was so
incredibly happy to be there. The previous eight or nine months I had spent in
treatment for cancer. My personal goal was to recover sufficiently in time for
this concert, which had been booked long before my diagnosis and it was great
to have achieved it. I stood trembling with joy, hardly looking my best and feeling
a bit vulnerable with newly growing hair. I was braving it without my usual
bandanna. I’d taken to wearing red lipstick and dangly ear-rings like it was my
feminine fashion statement. We all smiled. I said ‘Thanks for the music’ in a
shaky voice and stepped down to the pavement, my treasured possession of a signed
programme held close. It was over in seconds and meant the world to me.
There have been many concerts over the years. Every UK tour
means at least three dates and for those further than Manchester we book a
hotel. We’ve had holidays in London wrapped round concerts at the O2 and the
Royal Albert Hall. I’ve collected more autographs, photographs and had longer
chats with band members and their musicians, but most of all I have happy
memories of what they bring to the stage and the music which is the sound-track
to my life.
The Dream
When the white eagle
of the North
Is flying overhead
And the browns, reds
and golds of autumn
Lie in the gutter,
dead
Remember then, the
summer birds
With wings of fire
flaying
Come to witness
spring’s new hope
Born of leaves
decaying
As new life will come
from death
Love will come at
leisure
Love of love, love of
life
And giving without
measure
Gives in return a
wondrous yearn
Of a promise almost
seen
Live hand-in-hand
And together we’ll
stand
On the threshold of a
dream
Graeme Edge
Thanks for reading, Pam x