Leeds, 12th July 2023

I first hear of the plans for a Millenium Square show when I am boarding my train to Paris, and with the excitement of seeing this announcement piled on top of my excitement for the Paris shows, I am ready to burst. Morrissey in Millenium Square! A large town square I pass through every time I visit the centre has suddenly taken on a new aspect.

Wait, I’m on holiday that week! After some debate, the family holiday is moved to the week prior, without too much trouble, and I now find myself back in Leeds 4 nights before the show.

By now, other bands have already started appearing at the venue, and on this particular Saturday, Blossoms are on the bill, with a doors time of 6pm, the same as the time for Morrissey.

I find an excuse to spend much of that afternoon in town, and at around 5.30pm, pass Millenium Square on my way back to the car.

I stalk the square, in a not very low-cut blouse. There are three different public entry points. The early queuing fans, with the familiar numbers on hands, are queuing at gate A, and speaking to them, it seems they have been told this gate will open first. A security guard confirms this to be the case, and I find a place to sit down a short distance away, to watch things unfold.

I am now in possession of a disability access card, and unsure of how exactly this will work, I have already emailed the event manager, who has informed me that there is a separate disabled entrance at gate A, which will open 15 minutes before the main gates. Although I have seen this happening at various other venues and shows, it still sounds a little too good to be true, and I am already feeling somewhat sceptical, as I watch a small disabled queue form to one side of the gate, but with no security yet present to manage this, or signage to indicate it.

At 6pm, the large gates finally open for Blossoms, and with no further ado, the early queuers start to enter on the left, the disabled queue on the right, simultaneously. I trot round the corner to gate B. At just two minutes past six, it too is open and operating. Hmm.

I message a few early queuing Morrissey friends to share my intel. There is nothing left to do now but wait until Wednesday, and to think of something to write in the card I have bought for Morrissey, that shows a drawing of the Leeds skyline, Millenium Square included. To accompany this, I have also purchased a Yorkshire rose pin badge, in recognition of Morrissey’s seemingly regular visits to my fair county.

Wednesday arrives, and away from all the queuing stress, I manage to stay remarkably calm until around 4pm, when I am suddenly hit with the usual flood of preshow panic. Still being in possession of the card and badge, the previous show having been cancelled, I am concerned that no opportunity to get it into the right hands will present itself in the short half hour I have allowed before doors. So on my arrival I am relieved to spot a couple of guest list members, one of whom kindly undertakes to pass my small gift on to the tour manager.

I am concerned, however, to see that no disabled queue has formed, and I circle the perimeter fence in search of a security guard, to confirm that such a queue will indeed exist. I am instructed to wait at the front of the queue at gate A, so I return, and again find somewhere to sit, where nervous friends also await, and we chatter to each other on random topics in an attempt to distract from our preshow butterflies.

Shortly, a lady on a mobility scooter appears, with a number of companions, looking understandably confused at the absence of any clear disability entry arrangements. I jump up to make myself known to them, and we are now able to form our own little queue to the right of the gates, as I had observed a few nights ago. The woman in the scooter tells me to be sure to enter in front of her, and we chat for a short time, one of her companions telling me he is a ‘mystery shopper’, there to observe how well the venue handle accessibility arrangements. I’m not sure he’s entirely serious, but before I can enquire further, we are interrupted by the appearance of a security guard from within the gates, who marches out and starts giving a loud speech to the gathered masses on how the entry procedures will work.

The woman in the scooter moves forward in an attempt to be seen, but we seem invisible, and I too step forward until we are eventually able to make our presence known. The security guard assures us that we will be taken care of, without detailing how, exactly, and looking at my access card, which specifically indicates that I should not stand in queues, he tells me to stand at the front of the neat line that has been formed by members of The List! This feels more than a little awkward, and I stand there cringing, and wishing we could just start entering the venue without so much fuss, as did Blossoms fans on Saturday. But it seems the security staff have picked up on the unusually high levels of tension here, and it is making them nervous.

More minutes pass while the security manager seems to be trying to make a decision, whilst listening to messages via his earbuds. I am thankfully planted back at the front of our little disability queue, and I wait breathless, for what will happen next.

The gates open, and at a nod from security, I step forward, somewhat in disbelief, for my ticket to be scanned. The channels to my left show no sign of being filled with other people, and with eyes on the stage ahead, I step further forward to the search point.

Still no activity on my left, and concluding that this means the disability queue is being admitted first, as was originally promised by the event manager, I proceed as if in a dream, my instinct now being to run, as we always do once past all check points. This seems a little over the top, so I try to keep to a modest trot, not quite confident that there won’t be a sudden surge from behind, or from the other two gates, before I am able to reach the stage, which seems to be about a mile away.

I finally reach it, and with the unprecedented luxury of being able to choose my spot, I simply cannot resist taking a place near the centre for my hometown show. The guest list members already present, turn to greet me, the happiest Morrissey fan on the planet. Tonight is my night!

There seems to be an enormous delay before anyone else arrives, and I am unsure what is causing this, since there was only a handful of people to admit from the disabled queue, but at length people start to slam against the barrier, like pinballs being fired. A British friend soon appears on my right, and within seconds we are surrounded. Directly behind us is an Australian lady at her first Morrissey show, and a young man who informs us that his first Morrissey show was at Leeds Arena in 2015, when he was just 12 years old.

The wait for Morrissey is extra long tonight, but The Lottery Winners provide a welcome diversion, their charismatic front man paying homage to Morrissey repeatedly, expressing his delight at sharing the stage with him, as do The Slow Readers Club who follow.

9pm finally arrives, and Morrissey appears looking particularly smart, handsome, happy, and wearing the Yorkshire rose pin badge that I had given him! My heart is full, and I smile up at him in delight as the opening chords of How Soon Is Now? ring out into the evening air, and the crowd behind me roar. Perfection!

There are people standing on rooftops, and in the upper windows of the town hall, and every now and then I take my eyes off Morrissey to gaze around me and take it all in. Millenium Square will now always hold this special memory for me, long after the stage has been dismantled, and the dark winter months return once again.