Last night I saw Paul McCartney in concert. I grew up with the Beatles. They were the soundtrack of my childhood. I’m a big fan. When I lived in London I made a pilgrimage to Liverpool. I cried. So, I bought the tickets last minute, we’re talking nosebleed seats. My walking buddy came with me.
It’s funny how fate works. My friend was telling me she knew someone who was working there. In that crowd we weren’t going to see her. Ha, my friend saw her. She waved us over, asked us where our seats were and promptly upgraded us. We were suddenly finding our way to fourth row seats to the side of the stage.
Me ready to leave. New top, exercise tan. Anyway the concert was fantastic. Live and Let Die was the highlight for me. All sorts of pyrotechnics. Just fabulous. I never thought I’d see him live. I was smiling through the whole concert. I FaceTime’d my Mum. I took heaps of videos and photos.
Apparently, my Fitbit thinks me clapping for over three hours expended over 1900 calories. That’s cheating and it doesn’t count.
I am incredibly tired. I don’t like late nights. I’m definitely in bed before 9pm. Afterall, I’m up at sparrow’s fart. Yesterday I swam a kilometre and I’ll be back at the pool today. Tired or not. No obstacles. Oh and I’ve lost another kilo.