Brace yourself, Ed Sheeran, here I come!
PUBLISHED: 09:28 08 October 2018 | UPDATED: 11:41 08 October 2018
Lynne has a ticket to see Ed Sheeran perform in Suffolk, next year. Does anyone know where she can take crowd-surfing lessons?
We have them!
My husband and I have a ticket each to see Ed Sheeran when he does his three open air concerts in Ipswich, next August... bought from a recommended website at face value.
It was a relatively simple procedure although I understand we have to take proofs of identity in order to gain access. Apparently a tautly-worded: “Don’t you know who I am?” will not suffice.
This will be the pinnacle of my life in popular music. It far surpasses Marmalade (at the Regent Theatre in Ipswich) in 1968 and Elton John (outdoors) a few years’ back. Regular readers will know I am not fond of the idea of music festivals and I’m not keen on loud music blasting out through mega-speakers either.
Moreover, I am out of my depth when it comes to pop − sorry, I have just been corrected. My colleague, arts editor Andrew Clarke tells me Mr Sheeran does not perform pop music it is a genre called singer-songwriter.
Well, I’m not getting into that argument, I’ll leave it to the experts − of which I am definitely not one.
I note an online question − who would you like to see as Ed Sheeran’s supporting act?
My choice is the operatic tenor Andrea Bocelli, with whom the songster son of Suffolk has duetted. Failing that, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra or, perhaps a local pairing with soprano Laura Wright.
I know you’re wondering why I got tickets when I clearly know little about Ed’s (forgive the familiarity) music? Well, it was because he’s young, relevant, gifted and local. I am also local.
Visiting Braintree Freeport with my daughter, last week, she challenged me to name the artist whose song was being played around the shopping village. I had no idea, I said.
“That’s Ed Sheeran,” she said and shook her head. “Are you sure you should be going to his concert, mum?”
“I can learn,” I muttered, acutely aware than when I celebrated getting my tickets (Friday, standing), I had tweeted I was going to see the seriously misspelled Ed Sheehan. I also wondered whether there would be a granny enclosure where older women like me might be allowed the luxury of a garden chair and saved the trauma of standing with people who bounce up and down while singing along. Those who go back far enough may remember Conservative Welsh Secretary John Redwood attempting but failing to mime the Welsh National Anthem (in Welsh). Then there have been many Labour Party conferences where the rendition of the Red Flag is verbally mangled by MPs unfamiliar with the words (not so much recently).
As far as Ed Sheeran goes, I am expecting the young man to sing his songs without any assistance from me.
Apparently, I am unlikely to be ushered into a roped-off area for grans. I shall have to stand and, presumably, show willing by joining in. I think crowd-surfing is out - my recent weight gain makes it probable that I would flatten any group of people attempting to hold me aloft or at least cause a nasty outbreak of hernias.
If I am not allowed a chair, sitting on the ground is not an option. Once I’m down, there’s no getting up without the assistance of a nearby piece of furniture or, in the case of parks, a tree stump. My husband would help, but he’ll probably be looking for his aide-de-lever (sorry for that attack of Franglais) to assist him in standing up. I suppose there’s the option of sitting on my picnic basket... may we take a picnic or will we have to queue for an hour to get an overpriced snack from a licensed overpriced snack provider? I have already decided to sip only small amounts of water, hoping to get through the event without resorting to a chemical toilet.
I am, however, very excited and already planning my wardrobe. It will depend partly on the weather forecast but I’m thinking, comfortable, waterproof shoes; T-shirt and jeans; plastic poncho with hood. But I would be grateful for any advice on what to wear and how to behave that frequent concert-goers can give me. I don’t want to look out of place.
• My arthritic fingers have dealt me the unkindest cut of all. I can no longer get the cork out of a bottle of prosecco. For some time I have found it hard to peel back tab on a 4ltr container of milk, which has driven me to hit the prosecco. Now I can’t get at that either. I am encouraged to find the gin is in a screw-top bottle. Likewise, Blue Nun and Mateus Rose. Having recently written of these sweetish wines, the staple of 1970s dinner parties, I was thrilled to receive a bottle of each on a recent visit to a Diss Waveney Rotary Club dinner. As they are no longer feature a cork, I am able to open them... but do I want to?