Woburn Abbey
Remember it was
25 years ago, so memories are patchy and probably imperfect. If anyone
else was there and your memory is clearer than mine, feel free to correct me! As
for whether I could see ... well, not much actually, I was at the kind of
distance where you’d need the Hubble telescope to get a good view (but it didn’t
exist then, and neither did big screens). But the point was BEING there!
Picture this: After a week of unremitting cold, wet and gloom, the day dawns
bright, warm and cloudless. Three special trains are travelling from various
parts of the country to Woburn. On the train (full), I meet two total strangers,
who are firm friends by the time we’re off the train and on to the fleet of
buses. We queue forever to get into the car park, and then find ourselves a
place on the grass. There’s a sea of people between us and the stage, which is
on a small rise in front of the house.
The concert is due to start at 8, but at that time the sun will be directly in
the eyes of anyone on stage, so it’s clear that it will be some time before
Neil and the band make an appearance. Eventually, though, we realise that the
band are on stage. The overture (Dance of the Sabres, without words) begins
quietly, almost before anyone realises it. The music, and the expectation, build
- then the cheering from the front tells us Neil has arrived! It’s a few
seconds before those of us further away can see him, and by the time we register
that he’s wearing a dark blue shirt he’s into "Soolaimon". At the
first note, the ducks and geese rise up in a body from the lake, and are not
seen for the rest of the evening! (No taste.)
For half an hour or so it’s still full daylight, and the atmosphere is to some
extent ‘picnic’ rather than ‘concert’. During the ‘oldies’ section
near the beginning, a balloon flies overhead, probably containing photographers,
and Neil says, ‘Put a spotlight on that balloon, we’ll sing for them too’.
He refers several times to the number of people there, about 55,000 I think, and
says ‘I gotta do good tonight, or I’m in big trouble’.
After a few bars of "The Last Picasso", Neil calls a halt. ‘No, let’s
do reggae, I feel like dancing. If you want to dance with me, just stand up
where you are and we’ll do it together’. Nobody needs telling twice, and
from that moment on it’s non-stop magic!
As it gets dark, Neil becomes more visible to us as the lights pick up the
sequins on his shirt. He’s singing and chatting, and flirting with the girls
at the front, and generally having a wonderful time. He sings Stargazer, and is
so impressed with our participation that WE have to sing Stargazer ourselves! He
recruits one young lady to open his flask of tea, which he claims not to be able
to do, and there follows an impromptu rendering of Tea for Two from the band,
while she demands and receives a kiss in return. At one point he mutters ‘I
can’t sit down in these pants’, then pretends not to understand what ‘get
them off’ means.
All too soon, "I Am ... I Said" comes to an end, and Neil leaves the
stage. But before long he’s back, of course, now wearing a pale blue shirt,
and is into the "Jonathan Seagull medley". And as he sings, the moon
rises over the trees to the left of the house and stage, huge and golden. Nobody
could have planned the moment more perfectly, and before I know it I’m on my
knees on the grass in tears, it’s so beautiful. This really is the single
moment that will live with me. Then "Brother Love" and "I’ve
Been This Way Before", and Neil bids us goodnight, after ‘not an ordinary
concert by any stretch of the imagination’.
It’s a long weary journey home, but
nobody cares, and I arrive home at 3 a.m. - to sleep? What do you think? No way!