Mr Camping Scamping and I have just had the most glorious evening of being kid-free, letting loose and having a generally fabulous time. Guilty at spending time apart from the scamps? Not on your Nelly! We learnt a long time ago that we need these moments of non-scamp scamping where we don't have to be on our best mummy and daddy behaviour, where we get space to breathe and kick back.
Don't get me at all wrong - I adore spending time with the kids. They are excellent company, have good chat and our brainwashing has been strong so we have many common interests. The best part of my day is getting home from work, cooking tea and sitting around the table having a good natter and catch up - sharing joys and frustrations of the day and putting the world to rights. But jeez, it is good to have moments apart too.
Our go to has always been music and going to gigs. We've been doing it independently since we were about 13/14 and then together once we met.
There's a certain magic that happens when a crowd gathers for a gig, an almost primal energy that courses through the air, turning strangers into comrades and music into a communal heartbeat. Collective music worship at gigs is more than just a concert—it's an experience, a euphoria, a raw and unfiltered connection that transcends the ordinary. It's the stuff of legends and late-night stories, the kind of thing that makes your soul sing and your feet ache from dancing.
The beauty of a gig is in its unpredictability. That moment when the lead singer decides to go off-script, the guitarist busts out an unexpected solo, or the whole band decides to jam for an extra ten minutes—these are the moments that live on in your memory, long after the last note has faded. It’s the reason you keep going back, show after show, for those unique, never-to-be-repeated flashes of brilliance that remind you why you fell in love with music in the first place.
And the crowd—oh, the crowd! There's a certain camaraderie that comes with sharing a space with hundreds, or even thousands, of like-minded souls. You're all there for the same reason: the love of the music. It’s a beautiful reminder that, despite our differences, there’s something profoundly unifying about belting out the chorus of your favourite song with a bunch of strangers. You punch the air, share knowing glances with the person next to you in the crowd during the bridge, and for a few hours, you're part of something bigger than yourself.
It’s a place where you can let go of all your inhibitions and just be.
Then there are the quieter moments. Those intimate lulls where the artist slows things down, and the crowd becomes a sea of swaying bodies and glowing phone screens (I do miss the lighter being held aloft though!). You close your eyes, let the lyrics wash over you, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world is singing in harmony. It’s a collective sigh, a shared breath, a pause that brings everyone closer together. It’s in these moments of stillness that you realize the power of music to connect us on a deeply emotional level.
It’s a sensory overload. From the sternum rattling intensity of the bass, to the burning leg muscles from jumping. You leave with ringing ears, sore feet, and a heart full of joy. It’s a physical manifestation of the music, a reminder that it's not just something you listen to, but something you live and breathe.
But perhaps the most magical part is the afterglow. As the last encore fades and the house lights come up, there’s a palpable shift. You’re left with a sense of euphoria, a lingering buzz that sticks with you long after you’ve left the venue. Strangers exchange smiles and knowing nods, bonded by the shared experience. You walk out into the night, humming the tunes, reliving the highlights, and feeling more alive than you have in ages.
In the end, gigs are more than just performances—they’re rituals, communal celebrations of life, love, and the sheer joy of music. They remind us of our humanity, our need for connection, and our ability to find beauty in the chaos.
Both kids are budding musicians (bass and drums) so we've started taking the scamps to gigs with us now which has been a fabulous addition to our family bonding time, but with their ages we are stuck in the seating. When we are scamp-free it is sweating standing all the way (although not right at the front these days - let's be honest the knees aren't what they once were!) and it is glorious!
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