Was out at a gig Saturday night - a DJ called Sasha was playing in a tent in a field.
Sasha was the pin-up DJ of the 90's with a backstory that summed up the experiences of the DJ route to glory - from early days at the Hac, through Shelley's and on to the world stage with Renaissance alongside John Digweed - and becoming a global player.
His sets are fantastic - and he is, to put it mildly - a bit of a legend. A north welsh lad made good and following the whole gamut of the acid house movement from the first raves, the Ibiza explosion and today's newer more epicurean and grown up tastes.
My companion at this do was Donna-da-Lodger - an accomplished photographer for one of this social networking sites that I am very much of the wrong generation to understand.
We reviewed her photos the next day, as she was regaling us with tales of being chucked off the stage because some snotty DJ had his security to take her off. She showed me the photo of the offending fellow.
My Jaw dropped.
'You know who that is?'
I pointed at the chap in his later thirties possibly even Nearly Forty, plenty of middle aged spread, balding (like me) and remaining hair cropped back (like me). All in all a fellow looking like a dad.
Oh, he doesn't look like his publicity shots anymore. That's cos they were taken in 1994.
John Digweed doesn't look a day of 30. Still.