Freshly-back from gardening duties in Bergerac, it was a relaxed and tanned Bill Blunt who travelled last Sunday to the Lancashire County Cricket ground in Old Trafford to watch popular musical ensemble Take That play their final concert in Manchester.
Lest my readers think I have always harboured a love of boy bands, I should explain that I was redeeming my part in a bargain that had involved my current squeeze going to see Bob Dylan when he played in Liverpool earlier this year. I'd like to pretend that I got the better of the deal, but I'm almost embarrassed to say that I thoroughly enjoyed my outing last weekend. The Liverpool Echo Arena is a wonderful venue, but it can't compare to Old Trafford on a balmy Sunday evening, with a light breeze cooling the summer sun. And Bob Dylan's performance (though adequate) paled into insignificance beside the four showmen who turned out in Manchester.
Take That never really appeared on my musical radar before, so I was surprised how easy it was to join in the sing-along, since their songs had managed to penetrate my subconscious without me being exactly aware of it.
As a cub reporter, I learned early to distinguish between my ultimates, my penultimates and my ante-penultimates. But I can't quite work out what comes after something that's already been touted as the Ultimate Tour. Whatever it was, I was there: not a zimmer frame in sight. And it wasn't half bad.
