I've got a dilemma.

You know how they say your tastes change as you get older? You start to evolve and things that you once loved become lower and lower on your list of priorities. When I was younger, for example, I hated wine (don't laugh) I really hated it. I never understood why it was a thing; my mum would dust a bottle down each year, pop it on the Christmas dinner table.

As a teenager, I'd pretend to lap it up. I'm talking about the upper end of my teens of course, when I was 16 or 17, that age when you're desperate to be an adult. My folks did what most done - a wee shandy or bucks fizz at Christmas under the supervision of the responsible adults. I thought wine tasted like vinegar and that was with it topped up with a pint of lemonade. Now I love the stuff! White, red, rosé, fizz, the lot. Despite our shoogily introduction, a glass of wine has now punctuated most of my adult life. Hard day? Wine. Amazing day? Wine. Heartbreak? W.I.N.E. See? Taste buds changed. It's the same with salmon. I won't go as in depth about salmon. So. My dilemma. I am worried that my days of gig going are numbered and I really don't want that to be the case.

My lovely pal Clare and I tend to go to loads of great gigs together, we have done for years. Jess Glynne was playing at the O2 Carling Academy on Friday night, so we got down with the youths and had been playing her album via Apple Music on repeat. Cracking voice, good songs and we couldn't wait to hear her live. A quick bite to eat at the Crabshakk beforehand and a glass or two of personality and off we trotted.

Now, I like to consider myself a man about town and used to a large crowd, but by the time we got there it was heaving. You could literally taste the sweat. Everyone was jostling to get to the front as Jess was about to kick off her set. Ordinarily, I'd be elbowing widos left, right and centre to get my way to the front, but I genuinely feared for my life if I were to try it with this crowd. We pulled back, stripped off our layers of clothing and hit the bar. It was to be a double vodka kind of night. Queues. Are they always that long? By this point Jess was in full swing and Clare and I could see hee haw, so chanced our arm up on the balcony for a better view.

Our passes didn't specify that we were allowed up there, so we got to watch one song before the steward sent us packing. He was actually really lovely and gave us the option of the top bar to stand at and we jumped at it. Kind gesture and all, but that top bar was hotter than hades. If I could have gone topless without being arrested, I would have. Lassies faces were melting onto their chins and the bar was rammed with everyone trying to rehydrate. Last song. We had a view of Jess and we were dancing along despite the probable onset of heatstroke, when a steaming selfie seeker thrusts her phone under my chin looking for a photo. I honestly don't mind asking me to take a picture with them when I'm out. It's part of the job and most of them are really polite.

Not one word passed between myself and steaming selfie seeker, I was willing to take the photo of us for her, but I was not allowing myself to be photographed with five chins. As I raised the camera, she put her arm over my shoulder and proceeded to drown me with her pint of cider. Believe me when I say it went all over me; shoulder, all the way down my body and legs to my boots. I was squealing like a banshee and dripping. The steaming selfie seeker looked horrified, but I didn't linger to hear any apologies. I wanted home.

Thankfully, my outfit was all black, but I squelched out of there and was reeking of cider. Am I getting too old for gigs? Would this happen at proms in the park? I hope it's just a one off Jess Glynne! Steaming selfie seeker didn't get her photo and I was left with the dry cleaning bill.