Miles Kane at the Electric Ballroom

After me experience at the O2 the previous week it was nce to get  back to normal. Andy again had top bail so I went on my own, got chatting to some lads down at the front, all very convivial.  Electric Ballroom is a nice small venue compared to the endless wastelands of the O2 in Greenwich.

Opening act was Bustard Bustard Bustard, who apparently are Welsh but didn't sound like it. Lead vocalist had proper personality and chatted to the audience in the confident way that most support acts don't manage. His Mick Jagger strut probably did him no favours. It has been done, and done by someone with more to swagger about. Still I would happily see them again.

Miles Kane also doesn't lack confidence. This is fairly unsophisticated guitar music, but it just feels really good, quite exciting. Some might find Miles cockily annoying, but I like his brashness. And the audience could have sung along to "Don't forget who you are" all night.

Two Door Cinema Club at the O2

I almost didn't get into this gig.

Being vertically challenged , I like to get there early and stand in my favoured spot at the front in the corner. However, no sooner than I had had my ticket swapped for a wristband  I was challenged by a burly security guy demanding to know whom I was with and what I was seeing.  After informing the security guard that I was on my own, but would be meeting up with friends who were caught up at work and that I was there to see Two Door Cinema Club, he demanded to know why I was going to see that band and required me to name their songs.

The security guard then said I would have to wait to speak to his superior.   When I protested to the other female security person I was told to look around at the age of the people there.  It was made very clear to me that I was being held solely because I was older than other audience members and that I was therefore suspected to be a sex pest or the like.  When there was no sign of his superior arriving, the security guard made a further phone call to get an ETA.  While I waited, I was not so much as offered a seat and was told I was forbidden from even looking at my mobile phone. I was just made to stand there in front of the passing concert goers.

The head security guy eventually arrived, along with no fewer than three police officers.  The officer who finally spoke to me was highly professional and clearly embarrassed at having to “interview” someone for the “crime” of being older than the typical audience member (and only a few years older than him).  The officer ran a criminal record check on me, which of course came up clean.  Obviously there was nothing to check out as I have never had as much as a parking ticket. And I also had not acted in any way that could be perceived as suspicious as I literally had only walked in.

By this point I had been held for the best part of half an hour, and you would expect that security would now usher me in with a fulsome apology for detaining me.  But no. The security guards had a discussion between themselves and then wanted more information about the friends who would be joining me for the gig.  I once again, showed the texts from my friend saying he was stuck in the office and the head of security said he couldn’t understand how I would be meeting up.  Even at this point he gave the impression that he did not actually believe my story (not that one should have been required).  Eventually,  I was grudgingly allowed into the gig.

Needless to say I did eventually catch up with my mates, with whom I attend many gigs, and they were utterly outraged on my behalf, as is everyone else I have mentioned this story to at work. But this should serve as a warning to people that they may be detained at the O2 for no reason as standard security policy. Or be aware of the need at the O2 to be able to justify your attendance on top of buying a ticket, or expect to be prevented from seeing a show and be detained indefinitely if you cannot convince someone that you are not a potential criminal because of the way you look.

You will gather I wasn't happy.

But eventually I did get in in sufficient time to see the support acts. Sports Team were quite decent. lead singer fancied himself a bit as the new Jagger.

Next up was Tom Grennon. Worrh seeing. And hearing. Tremendous voice.

And finally Two Door. Another storming set which went down very well with he largely very young audience. They have such a strong set of albums, very much including their latest, that they could play twice the time without affecting the quality.

Museo Nazionale di Reggio di Calabria. And home

Sunday morning, our last day, and the reason I wanted to come to this city. Its archaeological museum. So plan was visit the museum, early lunch return hire car at the airport and fly back to London City Airport via Milan.

All started so well. The museum was superb. And was free on Sunday morning, saving us a few euros.

Displays from prehistoric to classical civilisation. Extremely well displayed with bags of information.

These two photos display something that is possibly not appreciated because of our historic love of marble statues. A lot of classical statues only had head hands and feet in marble. The rest was in wood covered in costume, which hasn't survived. So below is a reconstruction.
.

 This reconstructed terracotta roofing was breathtaking.

 Now this doesn't look much, but was very interesting to me. What is it? Its a long jump weight. It seems when they long jumped they did so from standing start and threw out both arms wit a weight to pull themselves forward. It cannot be emphasised just how much physical exercise and sport was deemed important in ancient Greece, and therefore southern Italy which along with Sicily was dotted with Greek colonies. This might explain the admirable physiques we see in Greek statues.

 And another sporting theme here. The thing hanging in the background was a bag containing a discus. Specialist sporting equipment even before Adidas and Nike.

A crocodile head used as a water spout

What is left of a table

 So by now I was almost at the end and could be reunited with Thibault who had zipped ahead. Only the main reason I wanted to come here to go, the famous Riace bronzes. But just as I turn up I find what I can only describe as a rugby scrum. With no one really looking at this marble archaic statue.

The scrum edged towards an entrance with a glass sliding . Every few minutes it would open and allow in another hoard. But not to the warriors. Just another holding room, to await another glass door to open. Apparently this is all to keep the atmosphere at its best for the bronzes. They really get the cotton wool treatment.

But the bronzes are amazingly fine. They appear to be Greek bronzes on their way to Italy in a ship which was wrecked, thereby saving them for posterity. There are hardly any classical bronzes surviving. Quite simply you can melt down bronze but not marble. And that is what heathens did.

So, onto lunch. Thibault found a great place, which of course didn't start serving when it said it did. But my simple appetiser of ham and tomatoes was wonderful and generous.And the pizza was very good too.

And that left us just the journey home. What a journey. Reggio Di Calabria's airport is small. About four flights a day. Despite it being small they still couldn't signpost the car hire return adequately. After a few circumnavigations we saw an office but not any place to park, so I was turfed out to find out what to do. I was told the car hire office for our company was closed, but that was ok, we just had to return the keys in the key box and then park it anywhere on the road we could find a space, amongst all the residents parking. So we did. Unfortunately all in pouring rain.

Bedraggled we ended up in the airport to await our flight, the last of the day. Which was late.And got later. No information. We thought we would miss our connection in Milan.

As it happened, we were even more sure when we landed, and then were stuck on the plane for ages. It seemed they couldn't connect the steps top the plane. It turned out there 

wree six of us hopint to make that connection, and there was a bloke with a sign for us saying the outgoing flight was also late and so we might make it.

We didn't. Thibault and another younger guy sprinted across the airport. I huffed and puffed behind them. Three things I would note about airport jogging. Hand luggage is a handicap. The endless perfume counters at duty free don't provide ideal breathing conditions. And sandals on polished tiles are not the ideal surface. 

Fortunately there was a further flight two hours later for our sweaty little group. A late night arrival at City Airport. But our luggage didn't turn up for a further two days. 

And extra aggravation, I left my reading glasses in the seat pocket of one of the flights. Did they turn up? Could I even find out? Airport and airlines say should contact the other. Gave up. But in no hurry to fly Alitalia again.