I should be watching Bruce Springsteen at Hyde Park tonight.

As I may have mentioned previously, I tried to buy a pair of tickets on the morning they went on sale but – quelle sur-bloody-prise –  it was too late.  It had sold out within a fraction of a picosecond.  Since then, an inordinate amount of time has been spent entering every damn chance-in-a-million competition for Springsteen tickets I could find, but to no avail.  I even thought of buying tickets from an online tout but – after seeing the hideously inflated prices on offer – that option was swiftly ruled out.  Possibly within a fraction of a picosecond, too.

Clare couldn’t go on account of our 9 week-old baby Edie, so the plan was for me to take my 5 year-old stepdaughter, Lily, who’d never been to a concert before.  Lily is a fan of Bruce Springsteen, Tom Waits, High School Musical and The Sound of Music.  I’m probably responsible for 50% of her favourite artists, but I’ll let you guess as to which ones they are.

In any case, Lily and I were understandably grumpy today.  To make matters worse, my little brother Rob went to Glastonbury this weekend so he saw Bruce and the E-Street Band perform a storming set at the Pyramid Stage last night.  He phoned me this morning.  He wasn’t intentionally gloating; it just felt that way.

“I’m jealous of Rob,” said Lily.

I winced.  Jealousy is a negative emotion I’d never heard Lily express before.  I wanted to be  responsible adult and encourage Lily to redirect this negativity in a more positive and constructive way.  Then again, she was talking about a Bruce Springsteen concert.

“Me too,”  I said.