h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Well, I'm still in a happy, delerious high after seeing Paul McCartney live in concert last night. Yup, THE Paul McCartney. James Paul McCartney. Paul of the Beatles, you know. The Beatles.

This summer I'm about to celebrate the anniversary of ONE year since I let myself surrender to the sweeping power that is Beatles music. Like Don McLean sang:

"Do you believe in Rock'n'roll,
Can music save your mortal soul?"

Yes, I believe it can. Sincerely.

And yesterday I saw one of the pillars of Rock'n'roll eight metres away from me with his trademark Hofner bass, singing the songs that changed music forever, 40 years ago.

So alright, I admit Paul McCartney stopped being an innovative and shocking songwriter many years ago, and he has made some less-than-great career decisions (you'll NEVER hear me call him Macca, unless he displeases me), but still - he's BEYOND having to prove his worth. See all those songs saying Lennon/McCartney? There you go. He wrote about half of those. And they're GREAT.

Only, curse the Norwegians, who are simply unable to have a good time before their past their eight beer. You simply cannot go to a concert and stand with your arms crossed, watching the artist like a dog food commercial. My sister Tine and I wound up in a group of quite dull middle-aged people, but did our best to try to make up for it by screaming like two Beatle-maniacs would have done in the 60s.

If you were at the concert at Valle Hovin, 14th June 2004 and heard enthusiastic screaming and calling out "I love you, Paul!" during 'Got to get you into my life', 'For no one' and ESPECIALLY 'She's a woman', that was me. Love those songs with all my heart. Seventeen years old and a complete loon. And yesterday I heard them performed by the man that actually wrote them - the man I've been swooning to the voice of while listening to Revolver and the like.

I loved it, though I'm quite unable to walking in stairs today, caused by jumping up and down during the WHOLE of 'Helter Skelter' yesterday. But it was worth it.

I'm just so happy I was able to see, right there in front of me, a living, breathing member of one of the greatest influential groups in history. I've missed two already, but finally saw one. Though I doubt I'll be fleeing all over Europe to experience Ringo anytime soon.