Myself and my sister managed to nab a couple of VIP tickets, the sun came out, the stars aligned, and it all lived perfectly up to my very high expectations - and then some.
So when they announced on stage that they would be playing Alexandra Palace in Sept I came straight home and, still on the post gig high, booked a couple of tickets for us for the next date.
Which was this weekend.
And so I escaped. For 48 blissful hours there was to be no cooking, cleaning, ferrying, mothering or working.
On gig day we slipped in a 5 mile run in the morning and then lazily got ready for London Town.
A hop, skip and a jump on the tube and we were strolling around the fantastic Borrough Market. You could easily spend an entire day pottering around the stalls laden with cheeses, wines, olive oils and meats.
But we had a date with a boozy late lunch so hotfooted it up the stairs to Roast which overlooks the market - perfect for watching cool Londoners and trendy tourists wandering below.
The meal was incredible. I took on an enormous slow-cooked roast pork belly and I'd like to say I won the battle, although I'm not sure my jeans would actually agree with that.
After that, plus more wine, cheese, port and coffee it was time to waddle ourselves out of there and head on to the one and only Ally Pally.
We arrived early, watched the support acts, briefly met some friends and then on they came.
From the off it was a riot of heat and noise. Waves of both poured over us. The guys in the crowd shed their t-shirts and the girls fought their corner admirably. Mosh pits appeared and disappeared and we were carried along by the music for 24 perfectly executed songs.
In the thick of it I looked around at us all - strangers with dripping bodies and smiling faces and realised - posh dinners are really, really lovely, but sometimes in life you've just got to go for it and get a little down and dirty to really have those marrow sucking moments.
I'm sure Pete for one would agree.
