Most of us will remember where we were on 13 July 1985. Maybe there’s some gaps or uncertainties – but for me, there’s no doubt. I spent that day at Wembley Stadium with about 72,000 others. Every one of those folks have their own story – this is mine.

We travelled up to London from Woking. No distance at all compared to many. ‘We’ was me and my best mate from school. We’ll call him ‘D’.
D stayed at mine on the Friday night and we got up insanely early, especially considering that even on the slowest train, Waterloo was only 35 minutes away. D’s sister, M was going too. I imagine her transport arrangements were less mad and much more timely. I just wanted to be there – as early as the earliest train would take us.

1985 was our ‘O’ Level year. We’d left school, got summer jobs and gone on a lads holiday…. To the Isle of Wight. This had all been booked long before the Live Aid date was announced, inevitably, there was a clash, so D and I left a day early, It wasn’t a difficult choice. The whole thing was unbelievably exciting.

At the time, there was a burger restaurant at Waterloo called ‘Casey Jones’, A McDonalds impersonator with a old-time railway theme. That was breakfast. In fact, that was the last thing I remember either of us eating that day.

The stadium gates opened at 1000 and we were there long before. The first mission was to buy a T shirt and a programme. The programme cost £5 and was basically a book. I’ve still got it. The back of the cover is a full-page ad for Marlboro cigarettes. Different times…

The T shirts. £10, maybe, not sure – but I bought two, one for my girlfriend at the time. There’s more to say about my shirt, but hers got dyed pink in the wash. I could not imagine a greater horror.

We joined a queue at a gate at the back of the stadium – i.e the end directly opposite to the stage. We were right at the front of the queue, right up next to the turnstile and it’s only when I look at an aerial photo of the crowd, do I realise the significance. The gates opened, a quick loo visit and on to the pitch – and on and on. We settled at what felt like a long distance from the stage – but actually – it wasn’t. Look at one of those crowd shots from the air. There was a mixing desk central to the stage – and we were a little in front of that, to the left as one looked at the stage – about a third of the way to the edge. And we waited. God knows how – but I didn’t move from that spot for another 12 hours.

The spot in question is estimated below. It’s only now that I appreciate how many people were behind us.

Countless TV repeats – and a BBC 40th anniversary documentary (which I’m not going to watch until I have finished this) kind of present memories that don’t rally exist. I can’t remember seeing Charles and Diana taking their seats – we wouldn’t have got much of a view of them from where we were anyway – but TV memories make me think otherwise. In any case – I wasn’t bothered as the first act were due.

Status Quo, I do remember. I had been at their final ‘farewell’ performance at Milton Keynes Bowl the previous year and had been within a plastic bottle’s throwing distance of the stage. When Quo appeared, the crowd went nuts and it was frankly terrifying. Today, it could not have been friendlier. ‘Awwright’ greetings from Rossi and ‘Rocking All Over the World’ and the place going nuts – on a wave of total joy. It was….great…really great – a party had started. The played ‘Caroline’ too, I think – I don’t remember because that completely perfect opening was all the memory required.

The next few hours are a blur. There was Sade and a slinky dress, The Style Council wore bright shirts. I know Adam Ant played one song – but have zero memory of him being there. Howard Jones, Nik Kershaw – Elvis Costello asked us to ‘help him sing a Northern English folk song and played ‘All You Need is Love’.

Then things got ‘big’. U2 were heading towards their stadium pomp. ‘Under A Blood Red Sky’ had been out for a year or so, so the proof was there. In the hot, afternoon sun, there was Bono, in black, in a big black hat. We wouldn’t see quite how sweaty he was until a close-up appeared in the Live Aid calendar for 1986 – but he was dripping. I was into U2 at the time, and for the next two years, I’d become a bit obsessed. However, I’d never heard the track they played that helped to define the day – and helped to propel the band to the hight they would reach.

Again – I can’t remember their set. I do remember him announcing ‘Bad’ and feeling a bit disappointed – this was new to me – and I wanted to sing along. Everyone knows what happened next. Bono jumps off stage, a girl from the audience is hoisted out of the crowd – Bono dances with her – it’s beautiful and emotional – but out of sight of the crowd. All I remember is thinking – ‘where’s he gone?’
‘Bad’ soon became, and remains my favourite U2 track but at the time, I’d have preferred ‘New Year’s Day’. Which they might have played…I can’t remember….

Mel Smith and Griff Rhys Jones appeared on stage dressed as policemen. We were close enough to the stage to be able to tell it was them. I remember the joke about someone in Belgium complaining about the noise – and then…. it happened. ‘Her Majesty’, said one of them – ‘Queen’.

We’ve all see it. Jeans and white vest. A studded arm-band-thing on the left bicep. Sitting down at the piano. Some plinky-plonky – then – oh my – It’s Bohemian Rhapsody. The next 20 minutes or so were frankly amazing. I was never a huge Queen fan – but for those 20 minutes everyone was. Everyone knew the words and everyone joined in. Rhapsody became ‘Ga Ga’. During the second chorus I turned behind me to witness the incredible hand-clapping spectacle as everyone took part. There was that daft ‘Daaaayyy-O’ thing – and it was so bloody inclusive. EVERYONE did it and laughed along with the whole, gorgeous humour of it all. ‘Hammer To Fall’, ‘We are the Champions’ – and off – and we’d seen the greatest performance of all time. And that isn’t a retrospective opinion. We knew we’d seen history – it was sensational. Breathtaking Immense. Extraordinary and brilliant.

A few years later, I’m in a cinema – I’m watching the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody biopic with my daughter. It’s the Live Aid sequence. They’ve recreated it so perfectly – down to the paper Pepsi cups on the piano – everything is perfect. Memories were fired – details triggered, It was so perfect – It actually made me cry.

Bowie. ‘Let’s Dance’ was big at the time- he was bigger perhaps than he ever had been. Today was the first time I would hear ‘Heroes’. He wore a blue suit. And then he stopped and asked us to watch a film.

And this, while I write chokes me up. Eyes are going. I can’t listen to the opening of ‘Drive’ by the Cars ever again without crying – and I’m doing that right now. It’s a montage of film taken of the Ethiopian famine, cut to the song. There’s a line – it’s something like ‘who’s going to hold your hand when you scream’ a child screams. It’s heartbreaking.

The film ends. And there is silence. No one knows what to do. This is why we’re here – because people are dying while we’re dancing. There’s the start of applause. No doubt, some tears. The applause spreads and everyone is a little more thoughtful. There was no time allocated to the song. Bowie had happened to see the film in an editing suite, was blown-away and cut his set short to include it. There are things I can’t ever forgive him for – but for this, he will always have place in my heart.

The Who. Rancorously disbanded – persuaded together for this apparent ‘one-off’ reconciliation. This was the one we’d come to see. D, especially. This meant more to him that to anyone else in the stadium. They seemed to take an age to tune-up and then they did. And then -the video screens went blank. At that moment, I realised that we were the only people in the world watching The Who – the rest of the world had been shut-out. I put D on my shoulders – he stayed there for the rest of the set. He weren’t heavy – he was my best mate.

It was very emotional. We had been chatting to nearby people before he Who – one of them had a camera. I asked here if she’d take our picture and send me a copy. We swapped details. Her name was Sandra Liddle, she came from Scotland. She did indeed send me the picture and because I was doing a bit of occasional work in a record shop, I sent her a promo poster of the Bowie / Jagger ‘Dancing In The Streets’ single. Sandra – if you’ve still got that poster, I’d be amazed – but I treasure the memory of that photo. If you’re out there, Sandra – I’d love to say ‘thank you’ again. I hope you’re doing well.

The picture? I’d show you here, but there’s no point. It’s just a picture of a 16 year old me and his pal. Just us – we didn’t even think to try and put the stage in the back ground. No selfies or hundreds of social media uploads in in 1985. And that’s fine. I’ll remember that photo – everything about it and why it’s so special – for the next 40 years.

After that – it all wound-up fairly quickly. Paul McCartney’s mic failed during ‘Let it Be’. There was a finale where everyone sang ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ and we all went home.

Again – I have no recollection of that journey. Once home, I turned on the Philadelphia concert for a few minutes – but wasn’t feeling it. I went to my room. Took my T Shirt from my bag and stood in front of the mirror. I put the shirt one – admired it – and took it off immediately. It was placed on a hanger and stayed there.

Four or five years ago, it was starting to smell – the odour of old stuff. I washed it – on it’s own – on the gentlest setting possible. I have never opened a washing machine with greater trepidation.

It’s still there – a different wardrobe in a different country – but like that photo – it’s treasured. It’s bloody valuable too – that and the programme, crazy eBay prices. They’re not for sale. Not tempted – just too special.

An epilogue? I went to see Queen at Wembley almost exactly a year later, no way would I have gone without Live Aid. Quo were there too with a new line-up and a new lease of life. It was OK – it rained a lot – it was fun – but it wasn’t the same. I gave Bowie much more headspace than he might have got otherwise – and, as mentioned – became a ‘Joshua Tree’ era U2 obsessive. I did Sport Aid in Hyde Park the following year – and went on to do a few marathons, so may be the seeds were sown for such activities on that day.

I read Geldof’s autobiography and bought a few copies for others. It’s good. His Live Aid bit is loads better than this.

Having now written this, I can now watch that BBC documentary and enjoy the moments I had forgotten or misremembered. I wanted this to be ‘pure’. It was an amazing experience – definitely one of the most formative and downright special of my life. I had no idea how close I was to the action until years later. In 1990 I had a row with someone who said the whole ting was a naive waste of time – he might have had a point – but still… I said that it was one of the most important events f the 20th Century – very naive, I suppose – but 40 years on, it IS history and whether it ever really achieved its goals, Live Aid proved the power of ambition and cooperation which continue to reassure my that humans are essentially decent and there’s hope for us all.

Finally – a dedication. D’s Mum. She was the second Mum to us all. Her kindness knew no limits and her tolerance and understanding no bounds. She spent hours repeatedly calling the Wembley box office to get us to the show and without her patience, I’d have missed this great, amazing thing. Thank you, R. You’re no longer with us, but I think of you often. Much love.