20 January 1969: Getting into the Roundhouse turned out to be the slowest queue in London When your young married daughter turns up with her young husband on a Saturday afternoon and says, “Are you coming to the Pink Floyd at the Round House?” it takes a tiny while for the full significance of the invitation to sink in. The offer of an escort and safe conduct for the Saturday night rave-in at the Round House is not often given to middle-aged man from the other side of the generation thing.
I do rather like what I’ve heard of the Pink Floyd. “What time?” “It’s from ten thirty till dawn. We thought we’d disappear approximately eleven.”Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com