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The Last Night; The Morning.

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Peter Gregson Peter Gregson | 12:24 UK Time, Saturday, 12 September 2009


As I walked the queue once more, I  was struck by one particular assembly... it appeared that they had bought Oxford Street out of Union Jacks to truly "pimp the Proms"!  

They generously provided me with drinks, cakes (approproriately iced with the Union Jack, of course) and promised me quiche if I returned at lunchtime  - so I'll keep this brief.

As the proms are winding down, they're doing their level best to keep the party going. If you pass them, ask nicely and you'll probably get a Pimms!


I've got my plot in the arena!

Here's a rare recording of the Grid allocation  - can you hear the excitement in my voice? No? Listen again. It's definitely there, but it might be hiding under my need for coffee...


Adam, Keith, Louise and Tyrone camped out last night..!

See photo. I thought turning up at 4pm yesterday was keen. I thought returning for a late night roll call was good. I thought turning up at 9.30am was impressive.

I was wrong.

These extreme prommers camped out from 10pm, braving the elements and using all their cunning to heat their beans for breakfast. Following yesterday's coffee offer, I felt that my generosity could easily extend to one more coffee run, so I promptly furnished them with the strongest, blackest coffee that the artist bar could offer.

Today is about more than just the music; it's the end of term and everyone's here for a great time! If you have any thoughts about tonight or any of the proms this season, get in touch in the comments - we'd love to hear from you! Listen!


  • Comment number 1.

    Writing in today's 'Times', Peter, Richard Morrison argues that with its jaded japes, the Last Night of the Proms is a national embarrassment. Richard concludes thus:

    ' ... After all, the two best qualities of the decent English majority are emotional reserve and ironic self-deprecation.

    All of this explains why, if you switch on the telly tonight, you may see a bespectacled middle-aged chap sitting motionless in the Albert Hall stalls while everyone else is jumping up and down like demented fleas. But if you want to wave your little flag, don’t let my killjoy whinge stop you. After all, it’s a free country. How does that chorus go again? “Britons never never never . . .” '


    I don't really share Richard's embarrassment, Peter. Having attended so many serious Proms over the summer, I see no reason why promenaders should not do something a little different tonight. You, too?


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