The guy standing nest to me needed a pee.
He told everyone.
His mate told him to pee on the grass.
Myself and the other sixty thousand plus
people sharing the grass roared NO!
So he set off through the crowd.
His mate shook his head – “we’ll never see
him again”.
I reassured him – “he’ll be back, he has
enough charm to pull it off.”
“I slept with him for years”, his mate
explained.
“At boarding school” – and laughed.
An hour went past.....
The French pushed in, ruffled some
feathers.
The security passed around the sun cream.
The big guy stepped on everyone’s toes.
Then his mate cheered – his friend was
back!
With four beers!
“I couldn’t get to the toilet, it was
impossible, but I got these.”
His mate was well pleased, but the rest of
us were even MORE concerned about his potential for wetting the grass around us
inhospitable.
Then the logo went up on the screen, the
lights changed and someone said, ”Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back to
Hyde Park, The Rolling Stones.”
And we forgot everything – the hours
sitting in the excessive sunshine, the big guy who had pushed his way to the
front, the group of French who started some racist grumbling, the support act
even though he had been excellent and even the pee threat.
And we cheered,
And sang along.
Start me up!
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