Perhaps against my better judgement, I decided to attend Mass in St Peter's shortly before making my way to the concert. It has always been, in my experience, a somewhat frustrating affair: practising Catholics and gormless tourists alike pressed together in one immense machine of crowd control. Mass heard, I was briskly moved along; post-Mass prayer is seemingly something to be conducted against the grain of the place. From my kneeler I was shepherded onwards, out into the current and towards the Bronze Doors.