Ready to rock?

On my way home from a lengthy day of business up North on Friday last, I stopped by at the pub for davedevil's 'farewell to London' drinks and ahd a generally nice time, including managing to have an hour-long conversation about politics with inskauldrak without any blood being spilled, despite the Venn Diagram of our politics having almost no overlap whatsoever. A nice time was had by all.

Anyway, wending my way home, mildly inebriated and feeling that all was well with the world, I was sauntering through Bank underground station when the busker I was walking past struck up the opening chords to AC/DC's You shook me all night long. I paused for a moment, turned on my heel, and went and dropped a quid in the guitar case in front of him.
And then, after another moment of thought, I grabbed the air-microphone-stand and nominated myself his lead singer. I'm not the world's finest singer, but thanks to having a nasty sore throat thanks to a cold I like to think I sounded exactly like Bon Scott. The busker looked up, grinned, and riffed into Sweet Child o' Mine so I carried on, singing lustily.

As we went on, others joined us. A couple in white tie and cocktail dress on their way home from some corporate do. A beggar (who tried to steal the money from the busker's case). A selection of homeward-bound people in smart suits singing along to Highway to Hell. I'm not sure what the other people using the tube thought of us - probably that we were filming an adver as that's what usually is going on when things like this happen - but after half an hour or so we had a dozen or so people all joining in, singing and playing air guitar around the busker. He made a goodly amount of cash, to say the least.

And then I went home. As interludes in life go, it was a pretty good one.