A Take That superfan who used to trail them in hotels confesses all

I really believed I’d marry Robbie — but now I fancy Gary: As a Take That film captures the intensity of boy-band obsession, a superfan who used to get up at 3am to trail them in hotels confesses all…

• The trip was meant to be a one-off, but once we’d met the boys, we were hooked
• I saw girls cry, faint and scream because they thought they had looked at them
• READ MORE: Take That stars share their regrets over treatment of Robbie

Shrieking with laughter and talking nineteen to the dozen as the train pulled out, I felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of a day in London without my parents.

It was 1992 and, at 15, trips like this with my three best friends, away from our home in Kent, were an exhilarating breath of freedom.

A new band called Take That were due to sign records at HMV on Oxford Street, and when my friend Angela suggested we go, even though I knew nothing about them, I thought, ‘Why not?’ 

Little did I realise this would be the start of a 30- year obsession that has seen me spend thousands of pounds and queue for hours outside gigs, hotels and TV studios.

A new film, Greatest Days: The Official Take That Musical, out tomorrow, tells a similar story — inspired by ‘Thatters’ (the collective name for us members of the cult of TT) — of four mid-life women who reunite 25 years after they first saw their favourite boy band perform.

A million love songs: Teenager Sarah grabs a picture with her idol Robbie Williams and bandmate Howard Donald

I will be first in line to watch it, not least to see how their intense, hormone-addled teenage friendship mirrors ours.

I first became friends with Angela, Jo and Amy in 1990 at a grammar school in Gravesend, Kent. Apart from a few secret crushes, none of us had boyfriends. 

At least one of us had a terrible shaggy perm, and our favoured style was a masculine waistcoat worn over our shirts with a chunky buckled belt.

The Take That trip was meant to be a one-off, just one of our secret adventures. Except once we’d met the boys in person, we were hooked. 

In the queue that day the excitement was contagious. When our turn finally came — after an hour’s wait — my legs were shaking.

One of my friends had customised a baseball cap for Mark Owen, who was generally the favourite because he was deemed the ‘cute’ one (I preferred Robbie Williams, the ‘cheeky’ one), and she thrust it at him, declaring her undying love. 

He gave her a hug, and promised to look after the cap. We hugged all the boys, so polite and clean-cut, before they asked our names as they signed our CDs.

A Take That fan poses in a bedroom holding a picture of the band as she is surrounded by posters in London, January 1993

I blush now to think how incredibly naive we were; we genuinely thought we knew the band after that first meeting. Pictured: Sarah now 

It was over in a flash but enjoying the attention — no matter how brief — of five charming, funny and attractive young men was a form of bittersweet first love. 

We were at a single-sex school, and although we were regulars at an Under-18s disco and had the odd crush, we just weren’t bothered about dating them.

I blush now to think how incredibly naive we were; we genuinely thought we knew the band after that first meeting, and I confess I thought I would marry Robbie. Yes, actually marry him.

From there, Take That became our obsession and the four of us formed an intense bond as we traversed London — and much of southern England — to spot them whenever we could. We didn’t have mobile phones in 1992, so relied on fellow fans calling our homes with the latest intel on where they might be staying.

As soon as a TV show announced Take That would be on next week, we promised to be at the studios before dawn, with the TT logo stencilled on our faces in eyeliner and plastic baby dummies (Robbie often wore one because he was the youngest) around our necks.

I remember one early morning, when a friend’s mum drove us at 5am to wait outside the Big Breakfast studios in East London. We waited a full day at Elstree Studios to see them coming out after recording Top Of The Pops, which resulted in a blurred photo of them leaning out of a van and waving. We were thrilled.

Sarah says the trip to meet Take That was meant to be a one-off, except after meeting them, they were hooked. Pictured: the band in 1992

Sarah confesses that she thought she would actually marry Robbie Williams. Pictured: Meeting Robbie in 1992

To kill time, fans would sing Take That songs, chat and show off photo albums of previous encounters.

Back then, girls who loved boy bands were frequently the objects of mockery. We were embarrassing, hysterical fangirls. Only boys could be serious fans. Girls couldn’t possibly know what they were talking about — despite spending just as many hours listening to music in their bedrooms as boys. Then, my favourite song was Pray (though The Flood has since supplanted it).

And yet we Thatters ignored the sneering. We knew we appreciated music as much as any art-school muso, and our passion was no trivial fad. It was, in fact, the making of us. It cemented the bonds of our female friendship, taught us how to have a good time on our own terms, and gave us an early inkling of the power of sex too.

Yes, emotions always ran high, and I saw many girls cry, faint and scream because they thought one of the band had looked at them.

I managed to keep my tears in check, but I did once have a conversation with Robbie at a record signing, where he said he liked my top and complimented my figure. For weeks, I repeated it verbatim to anyone who would listen. Here was proof he knew I existed!

But for all the times we saw them, there were many disappointments, where we waited for hours and our information was wrong, or they snuck out of a different door.

My love for Take That has never gone away. I saw them on tour at Wembley in 2006 and 2011, and again at the O2 in 2015 and 2019

I was devastated when Robbie left in 1995, and the band split in 1996. But by then, I was at university, and my Thatter days had begun to feel childish

Yet we lived off the thrill of the chase, and failed endeavours would see us planning the next trip with extra zeal.

Now I wonder if my parents used to worry about me following Take That so devotedly. I’m pretty sure I would always play down where we actually were.

One Saturday, I claimed to be at a sleepover when, in reality, we were up at 3am, travelling by taxi to a hotel where we heard they were staying.

Madness, but worth it because Jason Orange and Howard Donald came out to meet us.

Over the next few years our superfan lifestyle continued, with gigs and studio or hotel sightings. But as their fanbase grew, seeing them up close in person became harder as hundreds of girls employed the same tactics.

I was devastated when Robbie left in 1995, and the band split in 1996. But by then, I was at university, and my Thatter days had begun to feel childish.

My friendships with my original Take That pals sadly fizzled out after school, but I’m still in touch with one who moved to Australia.

At 15, trips like this with my three best friends, away from our home in Kent, were an exhilarating breath of freedom. Pictured: After meeting the band

My love for Take That has never gone away. I saw them on tour at Wembley in 2006 and 2011, and again at the O2 in 2015 and 2019. I’ve taken my husband to see them a further two times in recent years. He finds my obsession amusing (though I think he secretly likes their music).

My boys, who are eight and nine, know a lot of their songs and joined me in watching their reunion gig online during lockdown, and their recent appearance at the Coronation concert.

The only thing that’s changed is that my ‘crush’ is now Gary. Back then, I was basing my attraction on looks, and Robbie’s cheekiness. As a middle-aged mother, I prefer the stability of Gary.

And though you may question the wisdom of teenage girls slavishly following pop stars around, I honestly believe those days during my formative years kept me and my friends young and innocent.

For while many of our friends were obsessing about real boyfriends, and all the miseries and rejections that came with them, we were obsessing about five men we could never date — and so who could never truly break our hearts.

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