When I looked at my calendar earlier, I was staggered to realise that today marks ten years since this happened: Ten years since probably the greatest night of my life; ten years since the final performance of the greatest comedy group ever; ten years since they reunited, virtually on my then doorstep, so I could just trundle up to the dome to get tickets. Even now, I still often think of that night. Whenever I need to remind myself of how awesome life can get; whenever I feel down and need to kick myself up the arse, I just think of the night me, Lyn and Mitchel went to watch Monty Python Live at the O2. Even now I still think it was absolutely incredible: a legendary comedy group who hadn’t performed together in decades, whom everyone assumed would never get back together again, suddenly giving one last performance just up the road. I was there the night Michael Palin sang the lumberjack song, probably for the last time; I was there the night they did The Spanish inquisition; the night John Cleese needed prompting slightly during the parrot sketch. To have been there still feels amazing, and no doubt always will.

Of course, I was born after Monty Python’s Flying Circus first aired, so I had never watched the TV programmes fully. But I was well aware of what Python was, what it represented, and how funny those guys were. I remember laughing my head off at many of their sketches and films – they were, more or less, the funniest things I’d ever seen. And of course I absolutely adore Michael Palin’s travel documentaries. Thus when it was first announced Python was reuniting one final time, I couldn’t believe my luck; and then, when I got tickets, I was over the zarking moon!

But of course that was ten years ago, and a lot has happened since then. Things change, and not always for the better. Whenever I need to cheer myself up though, whenever I need reminding how incredible life can get, I think of that night ten years ago today. It is one of three or four events in my life which I think of almost daily, just to spur myself on. I’ll always cherish my memories of that night of course; but probably even better, such memories make me wonder, what equally awesome thing might happen next?