An old passion has been reawakened in Laura Carr, college general studies teacher and cat lover. Back for good Take That the first time round were fab in a teenage fantasy, imperfect kind of way. By imperfect, I mean that they had dodgy clothes, the songs on their albums were a bit hit and miss (Every Guy – what a faux-pas!) and they were not sensationally beautiful (although I have to say that they were as close to perfection as humanly possible when Gary buffed up for their Back For Good/How Deep Is Your Love? era). As a hormone fuelled teenager, I knew for absolute certain that Howard and I were destined to have a passionate, fiery fling a year or so before I settled down with Gary at the grand old age of 22. I also knew that Gary and I would have our first kiss while I was looking cute in red pyjamas and, coincidentally, Lady in Red was played in the background. Gary would then play that very song at our wedding, whilst I waltzed down the isle in a red gown (of course), wiping away tears of joy.
Silly teenage fantasies? A classic example of a young girl being manipulated by the money-spinning music industry? Well, yes. Or so I’d always thought…(no, don’t get excited, I haven’t managed to pull any of the boys) My one-sided love affair with Take That had long ago been buried under more recent dairies by the time they made their come-back last year. At that point, I was in Taiwan and was feeling very homesick. I’d managed to accept that Gary was happily settled with that horrible, pretty dancer, Dawn (hiss) but nevertheless I took their reunion as fate calling me back to the UK. It was pure hell hearing about my friends who flew over to Dublin for the big event and even more torturous when I was informed that I had to cough up Christmas money for my own two sisters to go to London to watch them. Anyway, once again, I was cheated by fate when I wasn’t offered a more feasible excuse to get home (like a sick grandmother or something equally serious), or find a magic ticket just waiting to be picked up off the cockroach infested streets. But I have finally managed to get my piece of the nostalgia pie on Saturday night when they did their An Audience With… I was at my sister’s house with my other sister and, if we’d had more make-up on, we could have been an advert for the show – all squashed up on one sofa under blankets, drinking wine and chomping down Ben and Jerry’s. As Gary crooned to A Million Love Songs, Mark did his cute-but-sexy thing, Jason strutted his stuff (he still hasn’t lost those moves) and Howard lisped his way through Never Forget I felt well and truly home. It was like the final seal confirming that I’m where I should be right now. Plague and Rupert MurdochNow my mood has lifted, I’m enjoying my job again. We’ve moved on from complicated subjects like the Black Plague, Romanticism and tectonic plates to stuff I’m more comfortable with – culture and social sciencey topics. I get to rant on about how evil Rupert Murdoch is and slag off Creationism with a mad glint in my eye, and while my rants last I become the fervent leftie I would have become if only I wasn’t so self-obsessed. My quarter-life crisis has also been sated for the time being. I’ve managed to get a grasp on things and realise that I’m not trapped just because I’m in a serious job. My current possibilities are making my way into a university at some point by doing a part-time PhD (but I’m only interested in this option because I found out lecturers can take their dogs to work with them), or maybe doing a part-time journalism course (and I’m only interested in this option because I could then be a free-lancer and stay at home with my imaginary dog) or staying put and climbing my way up the Further Education ladder (no dog but good holidays). If all those options fail, I can always go all Fatal Attraction, hunt Gary down and reclaim what is rightfully mine. I’ll even bring a little Chris de Burgh with me to help set the scene. See Laura's earlier writings |
