You're Never Too Old For A Rock Concert (except when you still call them rock concerts).

As some of you may know, I have always had a predilection for rock. I played rock to the Baby Angel when she was in the womb and she grew up to the strains of Blur, Oasis and The Dandy Warhols in the UK of the 90s. For a brief moment she was distracted by the horrors of Kylie Minogue and Delta Goodrem but by age 12 she fancied herself as something of an 'indie' music lover and at 13 she asked me to take her to her first gig: 'The Vines' (a personal favourite of mine). Since then we've also seen 3Oh!3 (another experience altogether) and I've chaperoned her, with her buddies, on a number of outings all of which have been 'all age events' (mind you, listening to that 3Oh!3 track again I wonder who decides the ratings on these things!?).

For some time we've been trying to get to see British India, a Melbourne based rock outfit we both enjoy on the radio. For some reason, they always appear at 18+ events so we've been out of luck, but then we noticed that they were playing at the Thursday night 'free' concert at the Clipsal 5000. Of course 'free' means you've already paid to get into the race track but hey, at $38.00 a head it's good value; considering her next outing is Vampire Weekend in May at $70.00+ a ticket!

Given the testosterone driven nature of the Clipsal event, we thought it a good opportunity for a 'family outing', something which has become a rarity nowadays given the diverging interests of the BA and Small Boy. Consequently, Himself and Small Boy went along in the afternoon to look at the cars and soak up some of the octane soaked atmosphere *cough hack hack*.


It was a good opportunity for father son bonding since the abortive disaster which was the sailing season.

We joined them just before sunset as the band was taking the stage.
I followed my excited progeny and her giggling and shrieking mate as they made their way down to the front near the stage. My policy in these situations is to stay far enough away to be unobtrusive and yet keep the kids with in eye sight. The BA is dismissive of my concerns.


"For goodness sake mum! What do you think is going to happen to us???"
"Listen mate, I know what could happen, which is precisely why I will NOT let you go on your own!!!!"

She's been angling to attend the Big Day Out for some time, foiled by the fact that it has a 15+
label and she was mortified to discover that I had NO intention of letting her attend anything like that on her own until she was at least 16!

The band was great. The sound was good, the additional large screens enabled you to see the action even when it was hidden behind hooded heads, and all our favourites were played.

Oh and the lead was cute!As I was snapping away and 'gettin' down with it' (oh hush your snickering you lot), I noticed a young hooded man in his late teens groovin' along next to me in a suspicious manner. I raised my hand to test my theory. He raised his hand. I shifted my weight to my other leg, he shifted his weight. The slimy little toerag was copying me!!!!!!! A little further over his two teenage beeyatches were giggling their silly bleached blonde, mineral make-upped heads off!!!!

REALLY!!!!

I mean, I was not even at WORK! It was my night off!!!!!!!! Suddenly I realised the freedom this offered. I leaned in to the leering, young dimwit as he performed for his admiring onlookers.

(WARNING: inappropriate language following)

"Listen asshole, I have to put up with SHIT like this ALL DAY and I do not NEED this on my own time so, give me a break and F&*@ OFF!!!!!!!!...."

Geez that felt good.

And if that didn't make enough of an impression, I called Himself over to stand next to me and exude his pseudo-bikie aura ( well, what they don't know won't hurt them). I am pleased to report that the toerag took the hint and moved off with harem in tow.

Unwilling to let this cloud my enjoyment of the occasion, I switched my attention back to the BA in time to see a large unknown man approach and put his arm around her!!!! In two steps I was there and physically prised him off whilst fixing him with that incredibly sweet 'do not touch my baby if you value your cahunas' smile that only a mother can produce. A quick glance from her to me and he understood all. At least he had the good grace to back off laughing.

The BA recovered herself, although she was pretty glad her 'mummy' was there! Here she is laughing at something entirely different, that other ubiquitous character at the rock concert, the drunk dancer.


Note the large, clear space around him?
Oh, and does this not look like the Snoopy dance to you?
Here, check it out!




Well, the BA and her friend thought it was all VERY amusing


although quietly she said to me later, "I see why you don't want me to go on my own yet mum."


Hmmm. Indeed.