Image: Jack Gittoes pexels-photo-761543 Concert
Our tour of the ancient and scenic town of Morgue was put on hold as Roger our tour guide decided to take us for a night out.
It was an added extra on the tour, but Joyce, my aged companion and I had decided we would take advantage of every opportunity afforded us.
Joyce was apprehensive about the concert as she didn’t like crowds or loud music but remarked it would be an experience her grandkids would be pleased to hear about.
The place was packed, and our tickets put us in a spot well back from the stage where upon our arrival we could make out long-haired youths playing what we assumed was their version of ‘good‘ music.
Joyce was obviously anxious about being there as she clutched my arm the entire time. This surprised me as Joyce I had discovered only sought physical contact was on a very limited basis.
Around us, the youth gyrated, bopped and screamed approval as the band assaulted our ears with their non-stop cacophony.
Later in our hotel room, Joyce remarked on her amazement at having survived the ordeal.
Morpethroad 
Should I be bothered that the more I read of Joyce, teh more I seem to recognize her in me? Enjoyed.
Purely coincidental
Like most young people, I went to plenty of concerts back in the day, but anymore, the loud noise and crowds would make me crazy.
I’m with you on the crowds and noise.