I’ve just received my 20th season ticket for the annual summer musical jamboree at the Albert Hall – officially the BBC Henry Wood Promenade Concerts, now in its 114th season, but known the world over as the BBC Proms.

Like most people I first knew the Proms from Radio 3. It was only when I moved to work in London in 1987 that I could make it to the concerts. That first year I shelled out for seats (that year included Boulez and Jessye Norman performing Gurrelieder with the National Youth Orchestra) but by the second year I’d met some Prommers who persuaded me to try the arena. In 1989 I applied for my first season ticket. Now I regularly do 45 to 55 concerts a year. Even now, as a classical music writer and reviewer, my favourite place to be is in the arena. It’s not just that it’s good value for money (£5 for the arena or gallery), but being in front of the orchestra is the best place in the hall to hear (and see) the performers. And all you have to do is stand.

It really isn’t as hard as you might think. Many people stand on the commute on the way to and from work, and standing for a Prom with great music to listen to is better than overhearing inane mobile phone conversations. There are polite, unwritten rules to ensure that Prommers queue to get into the hall and stand quietly while the music is performed. And should anyone push their way to the front minutes before the concert starts, the stewards, a persuasive bunch, dissipate potential bust-ups by explaining that everyone else at the front has been queuing since before the doors opened.

The Proms are synonymous for the “uniqueness” of their core, standing audience. That’s not to be mistaken for the oddity of what is seen on the Last Night of the Proms. That is a party where hair is let down, but for the other 75 concerts what all the orchestras and conductors remark on is the concentration, particularly of the standing audience. Indeed, it’s noticeable that there is less overt banter, although when a piano lid is raised there are still shouts of “heave” (from the arena) and “ho” (from the gallery) and applause at the leader stepping forward to sound a tuning A. Apart from that there is the laudable nightly collection for musical charities, but no doubt new traditions will develop (I’d like to see the Mexican wave return, allowing those sitting to join in) as new blood passes through the doors.

As it happens I’m not there for the shenanigans, I’m there for the music – and I’m not a particularly longstanding Prommer. There are many that have been crowding the arena for double my meagre two decades, but newcomers are always welcome. You see new Prommers every year, perhaps trying it once, then coming back and getting hooked. It’s a nightly social event and there are groups that ebb and flow during the season, meeting up for a common interest and dissipating at the end into the London night.

Localised banter is rife, laughter before the concert and in the interval is common, sweets are handed round, memories shared and friendships made. And that is all separate from the remarkable concentration Prommers give to the music. This year, with Rattle and his Berliners, Haitink and his Chicago band, both Dudamel (this time with his Gothenburg orchestra) and Kennedy (in concerto and jazz) back, a folk day, lots of centenary Messiaen and Bach and Stockhausen days, there could be no better time to sample Promming. Even Dr Who is getting in on the act, though I don’t know where he’ll land the Tardis.

Nick Breckenfield is the classical music editor of www.whatsonwhen.com

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