And the show really was all about Mariah and that voice. Do not expect a fancy set or spectacular effects – it seems the budget would only stretch to a few stock pictures of sunsets and rippling water projected onto the back screen. Oh, and (naturally) some butterflies too. Aside from that, we just had Mariah's male dancers to look at. And like the songs, their moves were straight out of the '90s. During Mariah's costume changes (nude sequin leotard to nude sequin dress and back again), it did feel as if I had wandered into a very large hen party where the Dreamboys were performing. Still, no-one seemed to be complaining.

In fact, the atmosphere was what made the night. You can't go to a Mariah Carey show and not be instantly on your feet, unselfconsciously singing the words into your neighbour's face. Six songs (and two house reds in), I turned to the stranger (now new best friend) next to me and commented on how "joyous" the room was. She agreed. But there were tears too – a digital duet with the late, great Whitney had everyone a little moist-eyed. And no-one was embarrassed about it either. But, then, there's no room for embarrassment at a Mariah Carey concert.