But if you try sometimes

All I wanted was a scone, a nap and a little Billie Holiday. Jeez, it was Sunday. I just did not want to go to a Geezer Rockers concert. We didn’t even have tickets. After I completed my usual Sunday round of Ikea-catalogue-page-flipping reveries, J.D. reminded me that unless I was a weasel, I was not allowed to weasel out of my commitments. He then proceeded to make us salads for dinner, and we were on our way. I am not a big Rolling Stones fan.

J.D. took me to Echo drive, a street surrounding Lansdowne Park. The plan was to eavesdrop somewhere around the open-air stadium, but instead we somehow found a way to get a full view of the stage, and crystal-clear sound. There we were, bobbing heads in the thick of the concert on a small hill between Echo drive and Colonel By drive perched amongst bushes and trees, barely hanging on. On the street in front of us, Harley riders, cars and RVs stopped short, surprised to get such a clear view of the show. Clapping hands and singing along, we felt like we were fully part of the audience, and in so many ways, we were. As we lay on the slippery terrain, mumbling you can’t always get what you want, locals were piling up in the streets, on the sidewalk, on bike lanes, in the bushes, on the canal, everywhere. J.D. was happy : “Regarde ma chérie le vieux Mick comme il cours”. Wait a minute darling, my bum is slipping, my back is hurting and I think I lost my shoe.

To breathe summer night time air and listen to night rhythms, that is what I crave. Jagger is not my favourite song-master, but I would agree that his energetic live efforts are for the common good.

Quite drunk with the pleasure of this find, settling in the sheer sweetness of being alive, we listened to the last songs, watched the final fireworks and walked home to consider the observations du jour. We got what we needed.

(merci Mylène pour la photo)