The Feathers has a function room now, and on the Monday of Leeds there was a banner across it that said HAPPY 40TH PAULINE in silver letters, and one of the letters had come unstuck and was hanging by a corner over the place where the stage used to be.
I’d walked from the hotel. It’s two miles from the arena to the Feathers and I know every one of them, because for three years before the band I walked them the other way, to the last bus, with a guitar on my back and fifteen minutes’ worth of songs in my head going round. Sunday had been a day off. Keighley is twenty minutes on the train from Leeds and I hadn’t got on it. I’d sat in the hotel with the curtains open and watched the rain do the car park, and on Monday at one I’d put…
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