Funny story: Last year I splashed out on two Florence and the Machine tickets to watch her smash it in Alexandra Palace and invited my Mumma along for a weekend in London to make a girly one if it, because she’s our main lady and my number one woman crush 4evz. So Mum arrives, and being reunited and two ladies loose in the city, we hit the wine – admittedly, a little hard – and had a little wander around the sights of Covvy G. Perfect pre-gig activities. 7pm rolls around and we’re slightly sozzled in the queue for the venue, all well and good so far. 8pm rolls around and we’re bobbing away to support act The Staves, who aren’t too shabby, and generally having a good LOL. But then, DISASTER struck, and Mum starts writhing around in pain. It’s only a slipped bloody disc – and just like that we’re spending the rest of the night in A&E. It’s over, no Florence, just drunkenly chasing foxes around an empty hospital car park in the dark (you remember the wine part right?)…
Fast forward to last Friday night (cue Katy Perry singalong) and our second chance at it FINALLY rolled around, as we got to see Flozza do her thang at St-John-at-Hackney Church, and man was it special. Not only was she an absolute beaut as always, but as part of War Child’s Passport to BRITs Week run of gigs in aid of funding charity schemes for children in third world countries, it was a purely acoustic show, in a totally intimate venue for an amazing cause. We took our seats in the pews on the balcony of the old church with a bottle (or two) of fizz (old habits die hard), and after the first angelic note we were in actual heaven. WHAT. A. VOICE.
She cracked out all the hits including ‘What Kind of Man’, ‘Shake It Off’ and an acoustic ‘Sweet Nothing’ and even threw in some of my old faves which I wasn’t expecting, so of course we didn’t stay sat down for very long – and after the initial worry had eased that the Florence and the Slipped Disc curse may strike again, it was an absolute gem of an evening. Afterwards we headed back to flop into the dreamy soft beds at Kip Hotel, a new hotel opened near Hackney Central which is uber trendy, to replay the evening and rest our dancing feet.
It was kind of bittersweet – such a beautiful show to raise much-needed awareness for War Child’s cause, but always the underlying idea that there are actually children dying out there in war-torn countries and in desperate need of our help. I’m not one to preach, but it’s so easy to take what you’ve got for granted sometimes and forget that so many people out there have it WAY worse off than you do. Especially when you think your life sucks balls just ‘cause you’ve got to squeeze your arse on the tube in the cold on a Monday morning to get to a job you hate.
I know we’re worlds apart, but it does give you a reality check and really opens your eyes to appreciate what you’ve got, but on that night more importantly it made me appreciate WHO I’ve got. I spent the night with two pretty special ladies, my Mum and my other main lady Cass H, and I don’t know where I’d be without either of them. My Mum obviously gave me life and put up with me when I was a screaming little brat, and Cass is a bestie and puts up with me even at my hangriest. Both are rocks and fantastic sources of life advice – whether it be about boys, work or which colour to dye my eyebrows. So if you’re reading this, you ladies really are the best of the best and I don’t tell you often enough that you’re superstars.
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