I may have mentioned on the blog my slight obsession with Marti Pellow, the lead singer from Wet Wet Wet. Their first album Popped in, Souled out was constantly on my record player (yes, it was vinyl for those of you who remember what that is) during my teens and they were the first band I saw live.
Last year Marti starred in Evita the musical and a group of us went to see it at The New Wimbledon Theatre. Marti was amazing (as expected) and I couldn't resist waiting with all the other middle aged women at the stage door to catch an up close glimpse at the rugged Scot. I was definitely the youngest waiting which is some consolation to this tale!
We waited what felt like forever as Marti was one of the last to leave the theatre (probably to try and avoid the throng of estrogen waiting for him) and then like lions on a gazelle he was attacked by a cloud of women vying for his autograph, photograph, children etc... I nearly didn't get into the frenzy but I thought sod it and threw decorum to the wind and after a few strategic side steps and elbows in my opponents weak spots I was at his side waiting for my turn. Bestie was poised armed with the camera and she got the shoot. Boom!
Obviously now Marti has met me it is only a matter of time before he appears on my suburban doorstep to whisk my away to the giddy heights of post heroin addiction chic. Husband is aware of this fact but oddly he doesn't seem to worried about it...