Scaramouch Scaramouch

New rule. You haven’t lived until you’ve screamed along to Bohemian Rhapsody, played live by the men themselves with tears streaming down your face. Maybe minus the last part. Depending upon personal mastery of/ability to repress your emotions.


I have zero mastery/repression skills.



We arrived early so we could elbow our way up near the stage. After doing so, we spent about an hour and a half preventing others from doing the same. Mom saw me at my belligerent best, but I did prevent a freakishly tall couple from parking in front of us amongst other riff raff.


Freakishly tall man in bandana looking moody. No doubt because he’s behind us:

I was also pleased that this young man was behind us. His party was so nice, that we adopted them and prevented meanies from parking in front of them, as well. Picture taken before the show. I didn’t think his hair was going to make it.

He was pleased that it did, though. He’s clearly more of a woman than I am. He’s also going to be a famous musician someday. Can’t remember his name, but we knew him when!


The show was amazing. Queen is It. Everyone else is just amateur.

Yes, as a matter of fact that is a firebomb. There were also fireworks. The UK must have different and better laws than the US does concerning fire safety.





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