A Take That superfan who used to get up at 3am to follow them around hotels confesses all…

Howling with laughter and talking nineteen to a dozen as the train departed, I felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of a day in London without my parents.

It was 1992 and when I was 15, trips like this with my three best friends away from our home in Kent were an exhilarating breath of freedom.

A new band called Take That was going to sign at HMV on Oxford Street, and when my friend Angela suggested I go, even though I didn’t know about it, I thought, ‘Why not?’

Little did I realize this would be the start of a 30 year obsession that has seen me spend thousands of pounds and queue for hours at gigs, hotels and TV studios.

A new movie, Greatest Days: The Official Take That Musical, out tomorrow, tells a similar story – inspired by “Thatters” (the collective noun for us cult members of TT) – of four mid-life women who reunite 25 years later. after seeing their favorite boy band perform for the first time.

I’ll be first in line to watch it, not least to see how their intense, hormone-intoxicated teen friendship mirrors our own.

I first became friends with Angela, Jo and Amy in 1990 at a secondary school in Gravesend, Kent. Other than a few secret crushes, none of us had boyfriends.

At least one of us had a terrible shaggy perm, and our favorite style was a manly vest worn over our shirts with a thick buckled belt.

The Take That trip was meant to be a one-off, just one of our secret adventures. Except once we met the guys in person, we were hooked.

In line that day, the excitement was contagious. When it was finally our turn – after an hour of waiting – my legs were shaking.

One of my friends had a baseball cap custom made for Mark Owen, who was generally the favorite because he was considered the “cute one” (I preferred Robbie Williams, the “cheeky one”), and she put it on him and declared that she was immortal. Love.

He hugged her and promised to take care of the cap. We hugged all the boys, so polite and neat, before they asked our names while signing our CDs.

It was over in a flash, but enjoying the attention – however brief – of five charming, funny and attractive young men was a form of bittersweet first love.

We went to a segregated school, and although we were regulars at an under-18 nightclub and had occasional crushes, we just didn’t bother going out with them.

I blush now thinking about how incredibly naive we were; we really thought we knew the band after that first meeting, and I confess I thought I was going to marry Robbie. Yes, marry him.

From then on, Take That became our obsession and the four of us formed an intense bond as we traversed London – and much of southern England – spotting them whenever we could. In 1992, we didn’t have cell phones, so we relied on fellow fans calling our homes with the latest information on where they might be staying.

As soon as a TV show announced that Take That would take place next week, we vowed to be in the studios before dawn, with the TT logo stenciled on our faces in eyeliner and plastic baby dummies (Robbie often wore one because he was the youngest was) around our necks.

I remember one early morning, when a friend’s mother took us out at 5am to wait outside the Big Breakfast studios in East London. We waited an entire day at Elstree Studios to see them come out after shooting Top Of The Pops, which resulted in a blurry shot of them leaning out of a van and waving. We were excited.

To pass the time, fans sang Take That songs, chatted and showed off photo albums from previous encounters.

At that time, girls who liked boy bands often became the object of ridicule. We were embarrassing, hysterical fangirls. Only guys can be serious fans. Girls couldn’t possibly know what they were talking about – despite spending the same amount of hours listening to music in their bedroom as boys. Back then my favorite song was Pray (although The Flood has since supplanted it).

And yet we Thatters mockingly ignored it. We knew we valued music as much as any art school muso, and our passion was no trivial fad. It was in fact making us. It strengthened the bonds of our female friendship, taught us how to have fun on our own terms, and also gave us an early idea of ​​the power of sex.

Yes, emotions were always running high and I saw a lot of girls crying, passing out and screaming because they thought someone from the band had been watching them.

I managed to hold back my tears, but I once had a conversation with Robbie at a record deal where he said he liked my top and complimented my figure. For weeks I repeated it verbatim for anyone who would listen. Here was proof that he knew I existed!

But for all the times we saw them, there were a lot of disappointments, where we had to wait for hours and our information was wrong, or they sneaked out another door.

Still, we lived on the thrill of the chase, and if attempts failed, we would plan the next trip with extra diligence.

Now I wonder if my parents used to worry that I followed Take That so diligently. I’m pretty sure I would always be downplaying where we actually were.

One Saturday I claimed I was at a sleepover when in reality we got up at 3am and traveled by taxi to a hotel where we learned they were staying.

Madness, but worth it, because Jason Orange and Howard Donald came out to meet us.

In the years that followed, our superfan lifestyle continued, with gigs and studio or hotel sightings. But as their fanbase grew, it became more difficult to see them up close in person, as hundreds of girls used the same tactics.

I was devastated when Robbie left in 1995 and the band broke up in 1996. But by then I was in college and my Thatter days were starting to feel childish.

My friendships with my original Take That friends unfortunately fizzled out after school, but I still keep in touch with someone who moved to Australia.

My love for Take That has never gone away. I saw them on tour at Wembley in 2006 and 2011, and again at the O2 in 2015 and 2019. I’ve taken my husband to see them twice more in recent years. He finds my obsession amusing (although I think he secretly likes their music).

My boys, who are eight and nine, know many of their songs and watched their reunion performance online with me during the lockdown and their recent performance at the Coronation concert with me.

The only thing that has changed is that my “crush” is now Gary. At the time, I based my attraction on looks and Robbie’s sass. As a middle-aged mom, I prefer Gary’s stability.

And while you may question the wisdom of teenage girls who slavishly follow pop stars, I honestly believe those formative days kept me and my friends young and innocent.

Because while many of our friends were obsessed with real boyfriends, and all the misery and rejection that came with it, we were obsessed with five men who we could never date – and thus who could never really break us.