I am sitting here in my sister's spare room in deepest darkest Hampshire unable to sleep because tomorrow I and my sister are going to see Take That in Cardiff.
I mean come on I am a forty five year old mother of two and far to grown up for this sort of thing but I fear I am reverting really rather rapidly. I drove down tonight from Suffolk in three hours flat. And that is not good, for at some point I must surely have broken the speed limit in my exuberance. And it doesn't help that I was driving the MX5 on one of it's rare outings these days, it just begs to be driven properly, no mummy driving allowed. Milton Keynes was a joy just what the car was built for lots of gear changing, lots of tight manoeuvring, lots of corners and for once clear of small boys in the back each and every roundabout was a joyful challenge rather than a potential sickness hazard.
Then I arrive, welcomed with open arms and an open bottle of fizz perfect. But there was a tiny little fly in the ointment my sister has taken on the task of seeing Take That with military precision. She has downloaded the play list - I can cope with that.
She has downloaded the words to every song - I am not quite so sure about that as I have visions of her forcing large print folios in my hands in the middle of the concert so I can sing along without straining my eyes. (She knows I will refuse to wear my glasses).
However, I think I may be off the hook as she has already told me that she has the CD in the car so we cN sing along on our journey down. Bet she makes me sing each song until I am word perfect!