Three quarters of Coba Fynn made the pilgrimage to the Barrowlands last Sunday to see, and schmooze, with Ash-the-band. Charlie is an old friend of Tim Wheeler, and so we were lucky enough to have backstage passes awaiting us at the door.

A few hours earlier (and, falling victim to the ridiculous British Summer Time, an hour early), I met up with Charlie, Davis/d(e) and Penny at Rab Ha’s, and somewhat thrown by my unintentionally prompt arrival, sank a few pints until we could reasonably head along to the concert. We arrived, obtained our shiny ‘AFTERSHOW’ passes and were eventually let in by the least suspicious security guard, identified only by a serial number on his shirt. Thank you, THX1138—or whatever your human name is.

It was a pleasant evening. Tim furnished us each with a beer from the band’s rider, chatting enthusiastically with us about our recent demo and earnestly asking us each to sign it. Penny stood in admirably for Doug, drawing a picture of a penis on it. THX1138 popped his head round the door, saying “Ten minutes guys,” so we took our leave, grabbed another pint from the porta-bar at the side of the hall and took up station with all the old farts at the back to watch the show.

Ash have decreased in size to be a three-piece band since I last heard anything about them (when Ruth took some photos for them at a gig of theirs in Dundee), and proceeded to rock their way through a fairly stripped-down set. Afterwards, we wobbled backstage again, helped ourselves to a few more Red Stripes and congratulated them heartily. I would have bestowed hearty congratulations on anybody by that point, but fortunately they were richly deserved. I took a circuitous taxi home, fell into an oblivious, snoring sleep and was late for work the next day. Rock and roll, people. That’s what it’s all about.

* * *

The week trundled by unexceptionally, with a couple of honourable exceptions: watching Heather Mills’ rambling excoriation of the press with Jeff & Dev on Wednesday night, we descended into an ill-informed and hence extremely entertaining bout of scoffing, culminating in Devon’s announcement: “Ha! She doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

Ouch. Is it libel if it’s true?

Other than that, Ash and I drove over to Edinburgh again at the weekend for Jez & Serena’s engagement party. There were glorious arrays of cake, so Neil and I were happy as abstinent and driver respectively; there was free flowing champagne, so everyone else was happy, and there were babies and pregnant mothers on hand to make us all smile apprehensively at our respective better halves. Congratulations, guys—I think you’re going to be very happy together!