Brooooooooooooooooooooce

Phew. The tickets arrived in time. Thanks for making me sweat it though, TicketMaster.

Anyway. It was another great night courtesy of Bruce and the E Street Band. The setlist was a mix of old and new, even including a few audience requests.

No room, sadly, for Thunder Road or 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy). We did get old favourites like Rosalita, It's Hard to Be a Saint In The City, Badlands, Adam Raised A Cain, and the obligatory blistering Born To Run.

In a two and a half hour* set, I guess you can't get all the songs in that everyone wants to hear. Eight hours might just about do it. But still, wouldn't have missed it for the world. There's a pretty good review here.

* It must be an age thing. I remember when Springsteen shows lasted 4 hours. Eeee, when I were a lad.

Dude, where's my car? And my tickets?

Only a week to go until Bruce Springsteen in Manchester. And finally, today I received confirmation from TicketMaster that my tickets have - at last - been dispatched. Tickets which I ordered in December, I might add. Talk about cutting it fine.

Anyways, can't wait. I've booked the whole of next week off work - well, why not? There has been a slight change of plan though - my friend's car, which was going to be our transport, burst into flames while his wife was driving it one day last week. Fortunately, no-one was injured. Phew.

Despair

There seems to be something about football (or soccer, if you must) that brings out the worst in people in this country.

Last night should have been a night of celebration and joyousness about a Scottish football team achieving heights unknown in recent years. But sadly a handful of alcohol-fuelled nutjobs had to go and spoil the party.