I happened to be in Cardiff during the Oasis gigs. Before I knew it, my legs developed a mind of their own, my shoulders got involved and my jaw was chewingBy the time I got into Cardiff Central just before 8am on Friday, the early birds of the Oasis flock were already arriving. With a full 12 hours to go until showtime, this wasn’t a bad effort. Respect. I wasn’t there for the big reunion concert. I’d have liked to have been going, but I couldn’t face the hassle. If a ticket package had been available which transported me to my seat, à la Star Trek, just before the gig started, and then transported me straight to bed when the curtain came down, I would have paid handsomely for it. As it was, I enjoyed bystanding, breathing in the thick air of anticipation, like a kind of passive smoker, detached yet vaguely intoxicated by it all.I was there to present my radio programme from BBC Wales, just across the way from the station. My studio afforded me a view of the crowds thickening outside. I wanted to scoff at all the blokes of my vintage wearing age-inappropriate bucket hats, and the rampant money-making at the heart of it all. But it was all too moving seeing these people getting reacquainted with their 20-years-ago selves. And as for the Gallagher brothers, hell, money has driven many families apart – so what if in this instance, it’s money that has brought them back together? Continue reading...