by Caroline Von B

I remember the long long wait outside, with friends from all over Holland and overseas, arriving a little late for queuing up. Jumping queue too, to be closer to friends who'd arrived earlier. Nobody really minded - most faces were familiar, anyway.

I remember the rain. It poured down incessantly for hours and hours. But the spirits didn't sag. We huddled together at the barrier, looking over the ministage. We'd brought our black plastic sheets, covered ourselves and sang, and sang, and jumped up and down to keep warm.

They waited. Waited for the rain to stop. It did. I remember it clearing up when U2 came on - the 'Pop Muzik' intro setting off the rush of adrenaline, the shiny glimpses of Bono's boxer's cloat, and the thrill of seeing the band up close.

I remember knowing afterwards it had been a corker, you felt it in your bones. Even though it was televised. In spite of the rain.

I remember Please stirring up the demons somewhere deep inside. And Miami being everything it wasn't on CD.

I don't remember details. It just felt like the band had come home.

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