Have you ever thought that you were okay with something? And then something happens and you realise you were totally kidding yourself? You're not okay, not even close. You're sat safe and sound in the bunker listening to the house fall down above you.
This is, clearly, a hypothetical question.
If I did have a metaphorical bunker, Scott Matthews would be playing in it. His new album is like an audio stress reliever. The only problem is when you turn it off and remember why you were so stressed in the first place. There's a lesson in there - don't turn him off.
The gig was nice. The Ruby Lounge was nice. The drive to Manchester was nice. The bar staff were nice. The stamp on my hand was nice.
Scott sang like an angel. I really do think he's stolen the voice of an angel, it's just impossible for someone to sing so beautifully.
My Frank Turner induced buzz hasn't worn off, I'm just sulking cause my cookies aren't turning out as
well as last time, blogger is being petulant with me and I said something really stupid today.
I was invited to the most important day of someone's life. It's touching to be told you mean more to someone than their own family. Or at least equal to. The sad thing is that someone's had to let them down for me to be invited. They didn't tell me that, but I'm pretty sure it's true.
How can I let them down too?
I can't. I won't. I'm there.