I sat there, grey-haired, stocky and wrinkled, caught in a vortex of conflicting emotions: nostalgia, shame, pity, empathy, pride, anger, embarrassment. It was as if a chasm in time had ripped open and was about to swallow me up when, mercifully, a voice called “cut”, the music stopped, the band froze, and a different thrum of chatter and activity filled the room.