Watching Leonard Cohen in London

Much has already been made of Leonard's need to return to touring for the first time since the early 90s amid claims his dosh was diddled while he was off being a Buddhist monk.

And while getting ripped off (allegedly) is jolly bad luck for him, it's a chance in a lifetime for us.

Not being able to fit him into The Cluny, this necessitated a trip to the O2, which used to be called the Millennium Dome when it had a better name. It's massive, a megavenue, hardly the type of place you'd expect to see a poet at work. It's slightly surreal.

Even a man with Leonard's sound karma couldn't have envisaged the public hunger for his comeback.

Show after show has sold out, a first leg of British dates came and went (mightily peeving a holidaying me) and on earlier this month he came back to see me.

And so much unreserved praise greeted Leonard's first set of concerts, I'd wondered if it had merely been people paying homage, their critical faculties shot by this unexpected chance to see the man at work again.

But, no, the emperor was wearing clothes, albeit not new ones, rather a fetching suit and fedora; a hat he kept taking off and holding it against his chest as he knelt, serenading the acoustic guitar.

This was a lesson in holding 20,000 people in the palm of your hand, a 74-year-old delivering a concert remarkable for its intimacy in a venue that prides itself on size.

He started with Dance Me To The End Of Love and continued with pretty much everything you'd hope for.

Off the top of my head? Suzanne, Bird On A Wire, I'm Your Man, Ain't No Cure For Love, Everybody Knows, In My Secret Life, First We Take Manhattan, So Long Marianne, Take This Waltz, The Future, If It Be Your Will.

Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye told of hair like sleepy golden storms and Tower Of Song showed he very much still has the gift of a golden voice. Who By Fire was wonderful too.

There were holy doves, love and loss and that line in Famous Blue Raincoat when "Jane came by with a lock of your hair/She said that you gave it to her".

An Obama-thrilled crowed cheered Democracy - "Democracy is coming, to the USA" - while A Thousand Kisses Deep was spoken, like the poetry it is.

And while most songs were faithful (as you'd wish, really), Anthem was transformed, somehow even warmer, softer. "There's a crack, a crack in everything. That's where the light gets in."

And even a difficult-to-digest lyrical variation to the finest song ever written - "I didn't come to the O2 to fool you" - didn't really stop Hallelujah from spilling its magic spell.

His chat has been the same at each show by all accounts, talking of being a 60-year-old kid with a crazy dream the last time he was on these shores.

But so what if it's not new each time? His show is a bewitching performance, a performance he still manages quite beautifully. It helps if you've got words and music like this.

He is a poet, and that's where the light gets in.