In which our heroine is super-late posting the last bit of the concert writeup from the 12th, she admits! But I beg your indulgence, my fellow GBS fans, for lo, I have been stricken this last week or so with the plague. STRICKEN, I tell you. Handsome and talented as The Doyle is, not even he can make me string coherent thoughts together when I’m in a Sudafed-and-Nyquil-induced coma. And I’m assuming y’all want me to finish this report off with something a bit more substantial than “mmmm Alan is so pretty mmmm”, anyway!
Things were a little hectic getting us out of the pub and over into the Moore, I fear–we lost track of ! Oops. But she did catch up with us, and all tickets were safely handed out in our party of seven, and our seats on row M on the right hand side of the main floor were secured.