The night finally arrived - the night I've been waiting on for four months with excitement and anticipation.

No, it wasn't Pirates of the Caribbean 3 - as much as I love a bit of old Johnny with bad dreads and teeth to match - it was another older man who held my attention.

It was that ruler of rock opera, that purveyor of fine 80s classics such as Dead Ringer for Love and Paradise by the Dashboard Light, Mr Meat Loaf himself.

The tedious road to Sheffield was made bearable by playing his latest album at a very loud volume with me singing along, also at a very loud, and probably very painful (obviously for other people - I sound great in my head), volume.

As the arena got closer, my impatience to get in, buy pricey merchandise and find our seats as quickly as possible was beginning to show.

With my cast iron grip of the steering wheel and selective blindness of the hoards of cars either side of me waiting on some kind person to let them in I was turning into one of those demented fans that you read about in the celebrity columns.

Luckily my stern efforts of being a horrible driver paid off and we were parked in the overflow field directly behind the entrance. As soon as we went through the door I spied the merchandise stand and promptly ran off to buy an over-priced t-shirt that probably cost a tenth of the price to make it.

Then it was time to take our seats. The moment was upon us; the mighty Loaf would shortly be taking to the stage. Furtive glances around the arena showed a surprisingly varied audience, from wee kids to grey-haired rockers, from bleached blonde townie types to gothic and emo devotees.

It was a real mixed bag of nuts. Which, having been teased mercilessly over the years about my love of the Loaf, was a bit of a shock. So to all those who take the mick - your secret is out! I saw you all dancing and singing along. Don't try and deny it any more!

And then he walked on stageand had I been five inches taller I would have seen it! Unfortunately the big screen had to do until I spotted an opportunity to peek through a gap and catch sight of the man himself. The small moving dot at the far end wasn't quite what I had hoped for, but who cares. He was there, I was there - what else did we need?

The folk around me weren't a very animated bunch, in fact, they barely moved until he played Bat out of Hell as the finale. Although, a guy to the left of me seemed to enjoy Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are quite a lot - I think it must have been his karaoke favourite.

Having said that, there were some points during the show when I thought Meat Loaf wasn't going to make it. His numerous surgeries have obviously taken their toll and there was little of the frantic running around on stage that I was expecting. He looked like he could have done with a wee cup of tea and a sit down. How rock 'n' roll.

Regardless of poor Meat's physical state it was a excellent night and I trundled off back to the car, wearing my newly-acquired tour t-shirt and my ears ringing with that after-concert hum that feels like your ear-drums are still vibrating.