Later, of course, would come 'real boys' and then later, 'real men', but in the exuberance of youth it was the fantasy boy who held my attention in thrall, and I was rocketed back there with a vengeance, this week, when I took my two girls to see their heros, The Jonas Brothers, live in concert in Birmingham. I dragged along my unwary sister for support, not really being honest about what was to await her, but desperate for the company.
Well, we had a great time. The seats were perfect, the merchandising booth did an admirable job melting my credit card, and they screamed and jumped up and down for a full hour and a half. We even got to touch the tour bus. Now, five days later, my knees have stopped their arthritic aching (what WAS I thinking? I shouldn't have been jumping up and down, I'll put a hip out!) and my ears have stopped ringing after the frantic screaming that would have put a roomful of banshees to shame. They loved it, my inner grin remains. Now just got to catch up my word count!