Late to bed at 1am. Later Naoise wets bed. Give him shower, dry him, new pyjamas on, back to bed. Requests for warm milk and banana. I roll over and ignore him, thankfully we both fall back to sleep. Later still, complaints about growing pains in his arm, I grunt back, I think of fetching paracetomol from the kitchen, but thankfully we both fall back to sleep.

Sweat, pushing, bare chests, pushing, jumping, hands in the air.

Sweat, dancing on a friends shoulders, jubilation.

Sweat, greasy bare chest and muscles.

Sweat, bashing and banging and loud loud sound.

Sweat, drum, beat, chest, banging, loud, loud, loud.

Sweat, crashing, bass sound, chest muscles, flesh, loud, loud.

Sweat, ecstatic, plastic beer glasses, crush, bare chest muscles gleaming.

Sweat, jumping, pushing, forming a circle, pushing, holding up.

Sweat, chests beating chests, loud, loud, loud.

Sweat, swearing, chests colliding, loud, loud, loud.

Wonderful time out with Syd at NME awards gig in Leeds. Wonderful time so amazing to be here with my son, surrounded by all the beautiful young people, feel so great to be alive. Wonderful to watch my son, so happy, so enraptured…….Wonderful time out with Syd until I realised that we had to leave the gig early and only three songs into the main act. ……..I cannot believe that the last train back home on a Friday night from Leeds is 10.35 am, totally rubbish, totally rubbish, I should have driven, I should have driven.

Awful stress running to catch the last train home partly because I had left it to the last possible moment to leave. Syd struggled to breath as we ran, he almost had an asthma attack. He was gutted that we had to leave. I was gutted that we had to leave.

We did manage to catch the train. We were both angry, and hurt and disappointed that we had to leave. Syd scowled at me, if looks could kill. Syd was in tears, great big rolling tears. Syd put his hoody right up over the top of his head, tied the string tight. Locked out the world. I pushed a chocolate biscuit onto his knee, he ignored it. He ignored me. We moved from ecstasy to deep down disappointing teenage emotional dreadfulness. High. Low.

I loved what we did see, I loved it. Massive amounts of energy and passion and loudness and sweat, but I did f**k up on the plans, and I really should have checked the timetable, I should have driven. Bloody mothers guilt, slipping from awesome parent to lets blame the parent, lets blame myself parent. I need to get a reality check, I am an awesome parent, my parents would never have dreamed of taking me to a gig, a proper sweaty, rebellious, rocking gig. I give my son the most amazing experiences, and he is the most amazing teenager. Teenagers rock, they do, especially when you can rock with them. I am not too sorry. I loved the moment, I loved being out with Syd, I loved what I saw, crowds swelling and young men joyous and beautiful and full of life, full of it, bubbling over in raw energy both on the stage and in the crowds.

I tucked red eyed, tired, sad, rock kid into bed, gave him a hug, switched off his lights. I then drank wine and cheered myself up listening to some music with Patrick. I never learn that cider and red wine really are the worst ever combination. My head hurts.


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