After managing to get a resale ticket for Lucinda Williams in Glasgow, I thought my work was done.

Then Emma somehow managed to get herself a balcony ticket as well.

Since we’d already booked flights to Belfast to see Lucinda there a few days earlier, this meant we’d now be seeing one of my favourite songwriters twice in the space of a week.

Not a problem.

My car, however, had other ideas.

With it currently residing in a garage rather than my driveway, we had to get the train through to Glasgow. Looking on the bright side, this meant I didn’t have to drive home afterwards and could enjoy a couple of Guinness before the show.

Well, I had a couple of Guinness.

Emma had cola.

Somebody had to be sensible.

Rather than heading straight into the venue for the support act, we popped into the pub next door and enjoyed a relaxed start to the evening. On the way into the Pavilion, however, we had an unexpected encounter.

Standing at the merch desk was Ben de la Cour.

To my surprise, he recognised me immediately from Belfast.

“You’re the guy who gave me back my pick.”

I was genuinely impressed he remembered.

Clearly returning fallen plectrums leaves a lasting impression.

After a quick chat, Emma headed upstairs to her balcony seat while I made my way down to Row G in the stalls. We had agreed to enjoy the show from our respective positions and compare notes afterwards.

As soon as Lucinda walked on stage, I knew I was going to struggle.

Not because of the performance.

Because of the audience.

The band sounded fantastic and Lucinda was every bit as wonderful as she’d been in Belfast. The problem was that most of the people around me appeared determined to experience the evening with the physical enthusiasm of department store mannequins.

Song finishes.

Polite applause.

Song starts.

Complete stillness.

Repeat for two hours.

Meanwhile, I was sitting there trying not to move.

It wasn’t easy.

After seven songs I encountered a different problem.

Nature called.

Urgently.

There comes a point where you can either continue enjoying the music or concentrate entirely on not embarrassing yourself in public. During Fruits of My Labour, I reluctantly accepted defeat and made a dash for the toilets.

On returning, inspiration struck.

I left my jacket on my seat and relocated to the back of the stalls where I could move around a bit without annoying anyone.

If this had been the Barrowland, the place would have been rocking.

At the Pavilion, however, the atmosphere remained considerably more restrained.

So while everyone else remained rooted to the spot, I danced.

Quite enthusiastically.

The difference in audience behaviour between venues never ceases to amaze me.

Before the encore, I even asked security if it would be possible to dance down the front.

The answer was immediate and unequivocal.

“No.”

The security lady informed me that dancing at the back was perfectly acceptable but dancing at the front was not.

Fair enough.

At least she was clear.

Unfortunately, as the final song approached, I convinced myself that perhaps there might be a little flexibility in the policy.

The final song was Rockin’ in the Free World.

Surely nobody could expect a man to remain seated during Rockin’ in the Free World?

The problem wasn’t the decision.

The problem was the timing.

I moved too early.

Had I waited until more of the audience got to their feet, I might have blended in. Unfortunately there was no guarantee that would happen and I wasn’t willing to risk missing my moment.

So down I went.

And started rocking out.

Predictably, the same security lady appeared almost immediately and instructed me to return to my seat.

Now, I respect Lucinda Williams far too much to cause a scene during one of her songs, so I complied.

Sort of.

I proceeded to pogo all the way back to the rear of the stalls while she followed behind me for every bounce, carefully ensuring I continued heading in the correct direction.

All this while Lucinda sang Rockin’ in the Free World.

The irony was magnificent.

Looking back, the evening was every bit as enjoyable as Belfast, albeit in a completely different way. The band were sensational, Lucinda was outstanding and I somehow managed to turn a security instruction into an interpretive dance performance.

Not everyone gets escorted to the back of a theatre while pogoing to Neil Young.

I consider myself fortunate.

The videos below include Emma’s footage from the balcony, my short vlog from the evening and another wonderful performance from one of the greatest songwriters America has ever produced.

And yes, I behaved myself.

Mostly.

Here is the footage Emma got from the Balcony.

I had already asked security if I could dance down the front and the lady gave me a firm no, and said I could dance up the back. So, that’s what I did. However, I thought it would be ok to go down the front for the last song, but to be honest, I was too eager and timed it badly. I should have waited until some of the crowd at least stood on their feet but there was no guarantee of that so I went down there and started rocking out around the start of the song.

Sure enough, the same security lady came along and told me to go back to my seat. As I respect Lucinda too much to spoil her vibe I pogo’d all the way to the back of the stalls, with the lady following me for every bounce, while Lucinda sang, ‘Rockin’ in the Free World’. Oh, the irony.

Like when I got thrown out of the Lou Reed gig….