It’s a cold afternoon in January and I’m leaning on the windowsill of the cottage, looking gloomily at fields covered with snow. I check the time – it’s 3.30pm and already the light is fading. The sleet slaps against the window and I let out a sigh – this couldn’t be further from the weather we had that weekend in Dublin. I draw the warm pink pashmina shawl further up around my neck, as I settle back down on the old sofa and reread my last blog. A little while later I sit back, pick up my mug of latte and absentmindedly lick at the edges of the caramel froth, that’s settled on the top of the warm comforting milky drink. I let my thoughts drift back to Dublin…
I can’t help smiling at moonii, standing there in he middle of that heaving mass of fans. She’s grinning away, trying her best to send a telepathic message of joy to her pop star. Eagerly answering his questions, panto-style in union with the other fans.
Hallo, thanks for coming —- HALLOOOOO, YEHHH!
Are you all right? —- YESSSSSS!
WE LUV YOU ROB BEEEEEE! One of the hysterical girlies behind us made herself heard.
All the while cameras and mobiles were clicking and flashing away at him.
If there was more conversation it was temporarily lost on me. My mind was busy taking in all the details; sharp hair cut, equally sharp clothes, tall, broad shoulders and tanned to within an inch of his life. Yep, yep one hell of a good-looking man…. He seemed to make eye contact with me and I came to, feeling more than a little embarrassed at having been caught ‘looking’. I stopped ogling and concentrated on what he was saying.
The panto-like banter continued – well rehearsed – both sides understanding their roles, happy to play the game.
Are you coming to see me tonight? —- YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!
His eyes danced with mock surprise and he briefly flashed us one of his boyish grins, pleased with our response. This in turn brought about a series of girlish squeals.
His eyes flicked over to his ever-vigilant team, who had begun twitching and rustling paper on their clipboards. I couldn’t see Josie but had the feeling she had just raised a Candy pink umbrella – like a tour guide – and had pointed the way forward. Leading the circus parade onwards to its final destination at the O2 Big Top, for the night’s performance.
We all saw his look and instinctively knew he was leaving and like small children about to be told it’s bedtime, we all clamoured to drown out the words before he spoke them, but our voices didn’t have the power to keep him and his look reprimanded us.
Gotta go, see ya tonight.
So we gave in and turned our anguished cries into cheers and see you laters – Scrummy frantically waved her huge bag of Minstrels at him and for a split second he looked like he was going to grab them. The security man closest to us tensed in anticipation, but Rob suddenly changed his mind and called,
Give them to me tonight Babe!
Then he turned and was immediately swallowed up by the throng of people behind him – gone from our view.
Everyone seemed to freeze, straining to hear. We briefly and faintly heard the warm tone thanking people and then… nothing. A series of heads popped up to make sure he wasn’t hiding around the rack of clothes we could just see down the aisle, but no, he’d definitely gone.
One thing comforted us all – tonight, when he got on that stage, he’d be all ours!
Security stood down, unclenched their buttocks and checked the next move with their governor. We, meanwhile, were bobbing about 2 feet off the ground, like a bunch of helium balloons some child had let go of. Aimlessly but happily bobbing in the way of all the proper shoppers, who were reclaiming the area set-aside for The Visitation. Grinning and hugging each other, we eventually gathered our thoughts enough to find the exit sign and take the escalator to the ground floor.
As we mobbed the street outside passers-by glanced over at us, picking up on our energy, questioning eyes asking ‘what’s gone on here then?’ The same eyes rolled skyward when they caught a glimpse of a Robbie T-shirt. Harr we had seen that look a thousand times over the years – their loss! We skipped aside – moving on, not looking back.
We all suddenly had a feeling of panic in the pit of our stomachs – what was next on our schedule? Scrummy and Carspindle needed to urgently hotfoot it to the O2 and get in the queue… Taxi!!!
Five minutes later we were all squashed in the back of a Dublin taxi. Someone was texting and then phoning the girls already in the queue, while someone else was updating their Facebook status – the rest of us were chatting to the cab driver, who’d been there a million times before.
Ah sure girls, you’ll be fine – no worries. I’ll drop you right outside…