Y'know, I've never made a secret of my musical tastes. I am a metalhead. I may not have the long hair any longer (because
damn, did I ever look like Meatloaf, when I had long hair), and it's no longer dyed every colour they could find in the barber's, but I remain, in my very soul, a headbanger till the day I die. Hell, that's even leaked into my books; I was intent that the Cynos Union would be 80s sci-fi, but with added metal, a bit like if
Star Wars suddenly decided to switch out John Williams for Steve Harris out of Iron Maiden.
But anyhow, there
is a point to this preamble; over the past couple of days, something has happened, a thing that's left me feeling more proud to be a metalhead than I ever have before (and I was
already pretty bloody proud). It all started in a little pub in Newcastle...
