When you lay in awe on your bedroom floor

On 22nd December 1988, Morrissey played his first solo gig at Wolverhampton Civic Hall. I was in the fifth year (Year 10), I was 15, it was the school holidays. I was desperate to go but I didn't have a Smiths t-shirt, I didn't have any money and my parents would have never let me go all the way to Wolverhampton on my own. I did consider getting the bus to Doncaster and then the train to Sheffield to go to the indie record shop to buy a t-shirt (Track Records in Doncaster sold t-shirts but for bands like Loop and The Sisters of Mercy), then somehow get a train to Wolverhampton, all with no cash and no parental approval. Later, I found out that people had been queuing at the venue for days, so it's likely I wouldn't have got in anyway. So I lay on the living room floor with the curtains closed and my feet up on the gas fire, listening to The Queen Is Dead all afternoon, over and over again. It seemed a more Morrissey thing to do than to actually go to the gig.

Two and a half years later, Morrissey announced three dates in Scotland. I was determined to go. Hanging on the booking line for ages, I didn't manage to get tickets for Glasgow, but I did for Dundee. I had to borrow £30 from my friend Sarah for the train fare (I did have a Saturday job at one point, cleaning bakery equipment in the village bakers, but was sacked for not being very good at cleaning bakery equipment). I'm not sure how I paid for the tickets because I imagine you would have had to pay by credit card and I didn't have a credit card. My parents wouldn't have lent me theirs because they told me I couldn't go. We had many many many arguments over the (teenage) years about everything from wearing make-up, staying in the house on my own, what to wear to weddings, taking alcohol to parties, having boys over etc etc, They were probably quite right about most of the things (not the wedding-wear), but from my parents' intransigence, I'd learned some of my own. I announced that I was going and there was nothing they could do about it. This tactic had to be used very very sparingly. I only used it twice, the other when I wanted to go to a party in Manchester when my parents were away. I guess they must have given in, because on 15th May 1989, I set off with my friend and fellow Morrissey fan, Daniel, to Dundee.

I'd never been to Scotland before. We had to change at York and we saw hordes of other Moz fans. We travelled up the east coast of the country and despite being a self-obsessed, stubborn teenager, I was struck, probably for the first time, by the beauty of the British countryside. Alnmouth, Alnwick, the big hulk of a ruined hotel at Dunbar, Lindisfarne, Berwick, all gorgeous. It's still my favourite train journey - you can keep your Settle to Carlisles.

In Dundee, we picked flowers from the town displays (sorry, Dundee Borough Council) to throw at Morrissey and talked to other fans. I spoke to Elliot who appears in the Hulmerist video as the speechless, overwhelmed young fan, and who was selling his fanzine. Finally, it was time to go in. I'd only been to two gigs before - the village punk band The Adulescents (sic) who played at the youth club and Deacon Blue at Sheffield City Hall (my 16th birthday present). We rushed to the front of the venue and then had to stand packed in whilst the dull as ditch- and dishwater support act Phranc played. Poor Phranc; it's a mixed blessing supporting a big star. Nobody wanted to see her and unkind people threw things.

Being a pale, sensitive type, I was pretty surprised by the rowdiness of the crowd. They shouted "Morrissey Morrissey Morrissey" in a football chant kind of way and lurched from side to side: indie-moshing, if you will. I started to feel sick and claustrophobic and felt that I was going to faint so I had to move to the side. Eventually, la Moz took to the stage and I was a like a girl at a Beatles concert in 1963, I put my head in my hands and screamed, I was so excited. I really can't remember what he played apart from his forthcoming single Pregnant For The Last Time. My flowers had been crushed and I didn't manage to get anywhere near the stage for the traditional invasion.

When it was over, Daniel and I wandered Dundee with other bed-less fans. We found an unlocked coach in a bus garage and about 20 tired teenagers slept on the bus. We got up early the next day and took the long journey home, made longer by the train getting stuck and having to reverse some of the way. It was my 18th birthday.

A few months later, Morrissey played Doncaster Dome, but by then I'd become obsessed with Sarah records and it was all over between Moz and me.

When you lay in awe on your bedroom floor

On 22nd December 1988, Morrissey played his first solo gig at Wolverhampton Civic Hall. I was in the fifth year (Year 10), I was 15, it was the school holidays. I was desperate to go but I didn't have a Smiths t-shirt, I didn't have any money and my parents would have never let me go all the way to Wolverhampton on my own. I did consider getting the bus to Doncaster and then the train to Sheffield to go to the indie record shop to buy a t-shirt (Track Records in Doncaster sold t-shirts but for bands like Loop and The Sisters of Mercy), then somehow get a train to Wolverhampton, all with no cash and no parental approval. Later, I found out that people had been queuing at the venue for days, so it's likely I wouldn't have got in anyway. So I lay on the living room floor with the curtains closed and my feet up on the gas fire, listening to The Queen Is Dead all afternoon, over and over again. It seemed a more Morrissey thing to do than to actually go to the gig.

Two and a half years later, Morrissey announced three dates in Scotland. I was determined to go. Hanging on the booking line for ages, I didn't manage to get tickets for Glasgow, but I did for Dundee. I had to borrow £30 from my friend Sarah for the train fare (I did have a Saturday job at one point, cleaning bakery equipment in the village bakers, but was sacked for not being very good at cleaning bakery equipment). I'm not sure how I paid for the tickets because I imagine you would have had to pay by credit card and I didn't have a credit card. My parents wouldn't have lent me theirs because they told me I couldn't go. We had many many many arguments over the (teenage) years about everything from wearing make-up, staying in the house on my own, what to wear to weddings, taking alcohol to parties, having boys over etc etc, They were probably quite right about most of the things (not the wedding-wear), but from my parents' intransigence, I'd learned some of my own. I announced that I was going and there was nothing they could do about it. This tactic had to be used very very sparingly. I only used it twice, the other when I wanted to go to a party in Manchester when my parents were away. I guess they must have given in, because on 15th May 1989, I set off with my friend and fellow Morrissey fan, Daniel, to Dundee.

I'd never been to Scotland before. We had to change at York and we saw hordes of other Moz fans. We travelled up the east coast of the country and despite being a self-obsessed, stubborn teenager, I was struck, probably for the first time, by the beauty of the British countryside. Alnmouth, Alnwick, the big hulk of a ruined hotel at Dunbar, Lindisfarne, Berwick, all gorgeous. It's still my favourite train journey - you can keep your Settle to Carlisles.

In Dundee, we picked flowers from the town displays (sorry, Dundee Borough Council) to throw at Morrissey and talked to other fans. I spoke to Elliot who appears in the Hulmerist video as the speechless, overwhelmed young fan, and who was selling his fanzine. Finally, it was time to go in. I'd only been to two gigs before - the village punk band The Adulescents (sic) who played at the youth club and Deacon Blue at Sheffield City Hall (my 16th birthday present). We rushed to the front of the venue and then had to stand packed in whilst the dull as ditch- and dishwater support act Phranc played. Poor Phranc; it's a mixed blessing supporting a big star. Nobody wanted to see her and unkind people threw things.

Being a pale, sensitive type, I was pretty surprised by the rowdiness of the crowd. They shouted "Morrissey Morrissey Morrissey" in a football chant kind of way and lurched from side to side: indie-moshing, if you will. I started to feel sick and claustrophobic and felt that I was going to faint so I had to move to the side. Eventually, la Moz took to the stage and I was a like a girl at a Beatles concert in 1963, I put my head in my hands and screamed, I was so excited. I really can't remember what he played apart from his forthcoming single Pregnant For The Last Time. My flowers had been crushed and I didn't manage to get anywhere near the stage for the traditional invasion.

When it was over, Daniel and I wandered Dundee with other bed-less fans. We found an unlocked coach in a bus garage and about 20 tired teenagers slept on the bus. We got up early the next day and took the long journey home, made longer by the train getting stuck and having to reverse some of the way. It was my 18th birthday.

A few months later, Morrissey played Doncaster Dome, but by then I'd become obsessed with Sarah records and it was all over between Moz and me.