Teen Appeal

Ah, nostalgia. Right in the bottom of your soul, there still lurks that pre-teen with the amazing, all encompassing yearning for five minutes alone with (insert name here,  I'm afraid mine would have to be Donny or David Cassidy). The emotions so strong they were completely overpowering.

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!