Always read the small print.

as promised

It was about this time of year – the last leaf drop’s end of autumn – though in a different millennium, that my partner, Alex, and I were invited to open the evening’s proceedings for Elton John during a series of shows he was giving at Wembley.

We were sceptical at first- there is a lot of talk in show business – but we started to take things seriously when his stage team set up a meeting.

The financial side of things were excellent so we weren’t worried about that. Instead we brought to the table our technical needs, specifically lighting (lights directly in the eyes of a juggler = asking for trouble), space (we threw things chaotically atop two six foot unicycles, so we needed a bit) and sound (Alex mumbles).

They were very open, accommodating and complimentary (they had seen the video of what we did) and we hammered out technical needs, opting for ambient stage mikes rather than head sets, signed the contracts and parted best friends with an appointment at 5 pm at Wembley, opening night for light and sound checks.

We were hugely happy.

We turned up at 4.30, keen to impress, and stood at the side of the huge stage.

At 5.30 Ralph, who we had met earlier came over, shook hands and instructed the crane operator to lift us up onto the huge stage.

Once we had started breathing again, acclimatised to the atmosphere, we looked around.

“Er…….. you are going to have to move that piano.”

THE piano.

HIS piano.

You know those moments in films when everything stops and only the hero is moving and you can hear the sound of your own heartbeat?

This was one of those moments.

“The piano?” someone broke the spell.

“Yep”, it’s difficult to sound casual when 25, huge, rock ‘n roll roadies are beginning to circle you.

Suddenly, also like a film, we were in a dingy backstage office, more like a cupboard really, with a flickering light and a huge man (huger than the stage) counted out some notes from the hugest pile I had ever seen.

I had no memory of how we had got here, it all happened so fast.

He pushed the money, well some of it, across the table to us and pointed out the cancellation clause in the contract we had signed without reading as carefully as perhaps we did thereafter. I think he was cleaning his nails with a knife.

They offered us tickets for the night’s show.

We accepted but went home.

I never was a huge fan.

Besides, no jugglers.