Saw George Michael last night at Wembley. I swung two free tickets and we were in the corporate section. It was okay but the vast number of people and daylight made it a bit soul-less. Nothing like watching him at Earl’s Court six months ago, when we paid for the tickets and got lumped in some dark, damp corner. That was a fantastic night. Being in the corporate section was a bit of a downer. Everyone was far too concerned about how they might appear in front of their work colleagues. Indigo didn’t care. She was the first up when he sang Everything She Wants and complained only that he didn’t do more Wham. Showing her age.
But we both love George. If I was gay I’d definitely have sex with him. And I think she’d give permission. A couple of years ago we were driving through London and she was getting on my nerves saying I was driving like a lunatic. I was pissed off because she’d pressed my WAITING button and held it down and it had put me in a dark place as I hate to wait.
So there we were speeding down narrow London streets so we wouldn’t be late for Granny who was taking us for lunch. I screeched into a posh square and who should be crossing the road right at that moment – George Michael.
But it was like he hadn't even realised what a momentous thing had just happened. He just sauntered across as if he did it all the time. But he'd crossed infront of ME. I slammed the brakes on and buzzed down the window. "George," I yelled, to Indigo's chagrin. He looked up, waved and I shouted "love the album" and he called back "thank you". That was it. That's all there is to the story. Only after that the tarmac turned to cloud and I floated through the rest of the day. I also thanked Indigo for being late. A split second earlier and he'd have been walking to my right and I'd have been totally unaware.
