Mac Attack

It’s Thursday, 4am and I’m in Stuttgart Airport.
 

A few hours ago I was on stage with BB King and now Security is giving my toothpaste a thorough once over like it contains cemtex. With furrowed brows and overly keen eyes they handle my ladyshave like it could be the accompanying detonator.
 

I’m on auto pilot, half asleep, too tired to be irritated by their German efficiency and with due diligence finally done to my soap bag they wave me on back to Blighty.

Touchdown in Manchester, the wee small hours still dreaming of the dawn and I neck a flapjack and wash it down with a gallon of finest French roast before heading for the train to Liverpool, my final destination.

My fiancé Jake and I are graduates of the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts and we had been invited again as special guests to attend the annual Graduation Ceremony.

I arrived on time at The Philharmonic Hall and was met by Jake who I hadn't seen in over a week and following a big hug we were ushered into the green room where there was an assortment of tea and biscuits and the like and much to my disappointment not a drop of anything remotely resembling alcohol!

Not that im an alcoholic you understand, I just like to drink!

I scanned the room intently, on the look out for familiar faces and a roaming drinks waiter and clocked master Will Young and none other than the school’s uber famous patron Sir Paul McCartney.

With no wine to soak my liver and the consequent Dutch courage that follows a hearty imbibe of vino, I found myself slightly reluctant to launch into full on mingle mode and work the room like a proper little inebriated butterfly, so I allowed myself one biscuit knowing I would be enjoying some quality nosh later on that night.

Last year we ended up having dinner with among others, John Hurt and a famous Spanish composer called Luis Cobos who was a total trip and the spitting image of Inigo Montoya from the ‘The Prince’s Bride’.I was about to cram an entire rich tea down my gullet when a tap on the shoulder from behind stayed my hand and so tucking said biscuit securely into my pocket to dunk later I twirled round to hear:

"Sandi come and get in the photo with Sir Paul and me"

So there I was sandwiched in between Macca and his brother Mike, a professional photographer, who im a great fan of and have met before at one of his shows.

‘How cool is this by the way,’ I thought to myself as I gave my best smiling pose.

Which quickly evolved into a feeling of dread as I suddenly felt very self conscious convinced I looked like a bloated, tired hag having travelled for the last 12 hours from a blues tour with 12 men where the only grooming id managed was in a toilet the size of my fridge!

 After the photos had been taken Macca turned to me and asked, "How's it all going then”?

“Great, I replied, working on the 3rd album, just supported BB King and Steve Winwood in Germany and getting hitched next year”!

News he seemed genuinely delighted to hear,  I'm also very very happy to learn that he's quite smitten with his new beau Nancy. He certainly deserves some hapiness after all he's been through.

And so, after all the diplomas had been distributed and the speeches made, the auditoriums lofty heights were filled with a medley of mortar boards, signalling the end of one chapter and the beginning of another for those on stage. As I watched their bright young faces fill with joy and gladness I was reminded of my own graduation.

It was one of the greatest moments of my life. The world was my oyster and the sky was the limit!
Oh bring back those days of sweet innocence!

As Macca himself so wonderfully put it;

" I believe in yesterday."

Big love, 

Sandi