I CAN’T CALM DOWN – IT’S TAYLOR SWIFT!

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Mary: You all better wear sequins.

Amy: You can, Mary.

Imogen: The only thing that fits over my bump is my dungarees.

Hermione: I may have to bring a sleeping bag.

Mary: Don’t bring a sleeping bag to Taylor Swift.

Amy was the one who managed to get us tickets to Taylor Swift. She has a solid career in the sports industry, which I hadn’t taken much notice of until she told us she had access to seats at Wembley and, therefore, was able to get us tickets to the Eras tour.

Despite being the ticket provider, Amy was not a Swiftie, nor was Hermione. I was gobsmacked when I found this out. I assumed we were all Swifties and that we listened to her songs for at least an hour every day. We just didn’t mention it because it was routine, like eating dinner or showering.

“Well, we’re a bit old for all of that, aren’t we?” Amy said.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stood on my soapbox.

Taylor Swift has united women around the world with her songwriting. She has written the soundtrack to most of our lives. I don’t know about you, but I spent 20% of our lockdown, in the bubble bath, listening to Folklore. She’s endorsed our feelings for nearly twenty years with her lyrics, no matter how gooey or petty those feelings were. For instance, when I was seventeen and found out my ex-boyfriend had moved on in a matter of weeks, I was THIS CLOSE to texting him a lyric from her song, White Horse…. ‘I’m gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well….’

Thankfully, I did not send it.

This did make me wonder though, how many of us have used Taylor Swift’s lyrics in an argument.

Woman: You always break your favourite toys.

*Man inspects his Xbox.*

Man: What are you talking about? It’s working fine.

Woman: I’m the toy, Stephen!

Woman: You are the smallest man that has ever lived.

Man: I’m 6ft 4!

Or, maybe, some of us have used her lyrics romantically.

Woman: And isn’t it just so pretty to think, Steven, that all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

Man: Erm, yeah. Sorry. Did you say you wanted to share the cheese, or…?”

The night of the concert finally arrived. We agreed to meet at The Pret-A-Manger outside the Stadium because we’re all in our thirties, and we love Pret-A-Manger.

Imogen and I were the first there. Yes, THE Imogen from the McCain potato commercial. “You’re supporting the move to regenerative farming.” She was the closest I had to a Swiftie. She swears that her and Taylor are the same person because they are the same age and both grew up in the countryside.

Next to arrive was Amy. I had mentally prepared for her to turn up in corporate wear, but even Amy managed a red sequin top. Hermione came next; she had come from a sailing race. We were relieved to see that she didn’t have a sleeping bag, but she did bring a backpack and a one-litre metal flask that looked like a weapon.

To make her backpack as small as possible, she had to wear all the clothes from inside of it. So, she walked into the Taylor Swift concert wearing an oversized striped shirt and a mustard-coloured beanie. On the way in, we past other girl friendship groups, all matching in pink with glitter designs on their faces. Some of them had gone the full whack with a leotard and knee-high boots.

“How are they not cold?” Amy said, as she put on her black cardigan over her sequin top.

Hermione’s bag got through security, but her big metal bottle was taken from her, and then we went to find our seats in the stadium.

“I’m going to get very emotional,” Imogen warned.

“So am I. Taylor is the GREATEST woman alive,” I said.

“No, because of…” She points to her twenty-week pregnancy bump.

“Oh, hormones. Fair.”

The other two non-Swifties were asking stupid questions.

“Does Taylor Swift have a band?”

“Yes.”

“Does Taylor Swift have dancers?”

“Yes.”

“Oh god, she’s not going to do that ten-minute song, is she?”

“YES, she will sing ALL TOO WELL (THE 10 MINUTE VERSION). It is one of the GREATEST songs ever written.”

The stadium was full of 91,998 screaming fans, plus Amy and Hermione. A girl handed us each a friendship bracelet with Taylor Swift song titles spelt out using beads—a symbol that you’re part of the Taylor Swift cult. She gave me ‘Calm Down’. (I’m still not sure how I should feel about that).

When Taylor emerged from the purple bug things, Imogen started crying. I started crying, too.

“I’VE NEVER LOVED A MAN LIKE I LOVE TAYLOR SWIFT!” I may have yelled once.

The next three hours were magical. Everyone was united, singing in a sequin, glittery army led by the queen, Tay Tay. I never wanted the night to end.

Amy and Hermione, though, didn’t mind the night ending. In fact, they left a few songs early to avoid the crowds.

“It’s like leaving the final of the Euro Cup!” I shouted to Amy, exasperated.

“It’s not though, is it?” Amy said and left with Hermione

Imogen was next. She went just before the last song. To be fair, she didn’t want to queue for too long with a baby growing inside of her. I let her off.

I couldn’t leave until the house lights were on, and I knew for certain that Taylor wasn’t coming back. The fans exited the stadium like sparkling ants leaving a nest. On the bright side, now that my friends were gone, I could buy a Taylor Swift fan T-shirt….and a jumper.

I joined the humongous queue at Wembley Park station. I sent a photo of the queue to the TS 4EVA🎶💫 group.