It’s been a couple of years since I wrote a blog to mark Jason Donovan’s birthday (although, apparently, it’s more importantly Tom Holland’s birthday before my daughter moans at me!) But 2025 has been a bit of a special year. So, I couldn’t let today go without writing something.
You see, 2025 saw the Doin’ Fine 25 Tour take place. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but I ended up with six dates between February and March. My daughter on multiple occasions would simply look at me and say “excessive.” It became a running joke at work as to what I was doing of an evening or weekend. I even had a message from someone who follows me on Instagram asking if I do PR for Jason because of my posts. I mean, I don’t but if there’s an opening for this position I’ll happily apply!
But what most people didn’t realise was just how much I needed this tour during this time this year. To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t realised it until it came to it. In my head I was just doing the dates in those three months because it just so happened that those were the ones I’d booked. I hadn’t quite thought about how the impact those three months would been having on me.
From late February onwards, the five-year anniversary of the pandemic, my late husband falling ill and dying just felt like they were hanging over me. I became acutely aware of the dates in a way that I hadn’t really been since 2021. Don’t get me wrong, I know all the important and pertinent dates like the back of my hand, but there was just something about this year which felt like a milestone. A real marker in the sand. I turned the calendar over to March and it was almost as though my body knew. One week it manifested itself in sheer and utter exhaustion. I fell asleep on the train home from the office. I was asleep on the sofa by 8:30pm. I wasn’t really able to concentrate on anything. My patience was thinner than normal. My temper was shorter than normal.
It almost felt in a way that I was leading a double life. The weekends and evenings at the Jason concerts when I could live a life where I didn’t have a care in the world and was transported back to my seven-year-old self when I first decreed that I was going to marry Jason when I grew up. The rest of the time I was that young, widowed, working mother of one who was juggling the enormity of all that had happened to her against the backdrop of her daily life. But I guess that is my life to some extent. It’s the reality of grief. You will grieve forever. You will never get over it. But you do learn to live with it. You do learn to have it as part of your daily life. Most of the time I’ve become quite adept at living with my grief but sometimes it just takes hold and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.
But this tour. This tour. I don’t even really know where to begin. Except I do really. I begin with that random woman from Twitter. That random woman who in 2021 was so very kind to me and meant that we finally met in person after years of fangirling over that Australian on Twitter. I still remember walking into that pub to meet her and wondering just what the heck we’d find to talk about. Or whether it would be the most awkward meeting ever. I needn’t have worried though for she and I clicked instantly. I knew she was my sort of person even though in so many ways we are the complete opposite of each other. It’s the biggest juxtaposition really. I genuinely believe I’d never have met her had my late husband not died. I wouldn’t have her as a friend yet I’m so sad that he never met her. I can’t help but wonder at times if he sent her to me. Admittedly, the drunken video calls I receive when she’s singing Too Many Broken Hearts might have elicited a few eye rolls but even so.
This tour was the first time we’ve done multiple dates on a tour together. Up until this point we’ve done theatre shows and one-off gigs but never a tour. Our excessiveness started off with an intimate gig in Bishops Stortford (oh how we amused ourselves on the group chat about getting intimate with Jason!) but it was such a fab evening. Although. The North-South divide was very apparent when she moaned on the train about people being rude in London and then proceeded to talk to other poor commuters who just wanted a quiet journey and to go home. But this was our first insight into the fun the two of us have going to concerts together. Oh, how we laughed. Oh, how we danced. Oh, how we fan-girled over Sophie (his singer). The set-list just hit the mark. I wasn’t expecting a Cliff Richard song to be included or to be video calling my mum (as I went on to do every time I saw him sing this apart from the night she was there too!) But there was one little song that I don’t think anyone had been expecting him to include. A lot of the audience may not have even heard of this song, but it’s one called Talk You Down. It quickly became our song. The lyrics are just so pertinent about no judgement, how there isn’t a right and wrong, but that no matter what happens, the person will be there to Talk You Down. And that’s exactly what we do for each other. As well as all the good times, there’s been tough ones too. We’ve cried on each other. And we’ve got each other’s backs.
I mentioned in my previous blog about my mental health and how I knew when I was back to being me. And it was on 3 March in a bar near the London Palladium. It was our second night on the tour, and we (obviously!) went for a Bottomless Brunch first. Except it wasn’t really a brunch. As it was at dinner time. Honestly. But as she used the words “cool” and “mint” to describe how I looked that evening, I looked at the photo and I saw it. The sparkle was back. Despite being at the start of the month that was to prove so very difficult for me, I could see it. I was back to looking as I had in that photo I’d taken seven months earlier when we’d been away to see Jason in Derby. It really does feel at times that everything always comes back to Jason.
And just a few days later my long-suffering sister and I headed to York. With the group WhatsApp messages printed ready to be signed. The WhatsApp messages that said she really couldn’t do a Meet and Greet. That she couldn’t justify it. Swiftly followed by messages saying they had accidentally been bought… But travelling up north seems to never be without drama and as we were diverted off the A1 into Kansas (or at least that’s what it felt like, we were completely anticipating ending up in Oz) our journey once again turned into about a nine day one. But we made it. Eventually.
The following day I was a geek walking round York taking in the sights and the history. Our table for brunch said “Bottomless Hotties.” We found Paddington. We had such a lovely day. And as we arrived at the Barbican, my nerves kicked in. Randomly. I realised I hadn’t spoken to Jason since October 2022 at the stage door at Grease. I panicked as to what I would say to him. 43 years old and suddenly behaving like that seven-year-old again! But I needn’t have worried. I got my hug. I got things signed. I had a lovely chat. And within seconds my Facebook profile photo was updated. Without so much as a second thought. A far cry from all the agonising over doing this I’d faced in 2021. While I’m not convinced time heals, it does make a difference. And that’s all you can really ask for.
Two weeks later came the next date. Liverpool. Quite possibly my favourite date of the whole tour. But this was a date that in the week leading up to had felt a little uncertain. My daughter had been unwell. My mum had had an operation cancelled after she too fell ill. The solo parent guilt kicked in. I just didn’t know if I could go away. Whether it was the right thing to do. This is the constant juggle I face. The guilt when I do things for me because I’m the only parent my daughter has. The buck stops with me. But after talking with friends and my daughter, I was convinced to go.
And I’m so incredibly glad I did. It was just a perfect weekend. The sort of weekend that money can’t buy. I wasn’t nervous in the queue to meet him this time. But I’d never have expected that when we did go in to meet him that I’d have ended up saying something a tad inappropriate that meant I got “Emmaaaaaaa” shouted at me! But the photos that were taken just sum it up. They might not be the best photos. They might be slightly blurry. But my word do they show how much fun we were having. I’m so thankful to Tasmin, Jason’s tour manager who captured them for us. Epitome of happiness right there.
No-one watching me that weekend would have actually known that at the back of my mind was the date. 22 March. That it was five years since my late husband first noticed he had a temperature. Since he made his final ever Facebook post. I was so conscious of it. But again. Being away and seeing Jason gave me something else to focus on. The double life coming into its own really. I thought back to the exact day in 2020. The final day before lockdown was announced. When the thought of being away with friends and going to a concert would have seemed impossible. Fast forward to 2025 and it was a completely different story, it felt somewhat pertinent that the venue for this concert was on Hope Street. After all. Hope is everything. It’s the one word that has got me through the last five years.
I only had a matter of days before my next date. In Canterbury, two days before my birthday. I knew he was performing on my birthday itself, but I had no intention of going. I’d have had to be away for the night and my daughter simply didn’t want me to not be at home given not only was it my birthday, but it was also Mother’s Day and the five-year anniversary of my late husband being taken into ITU. Sometimes things are just important than Jason. Controversial I know. I took non-Jason fans with me (after all, I need to introduce as many people as possible to him!) and finally got the setlist I’d wanted given to me from the stage at the end of the night. This was my last UK date. Yes. You may get the violins out.
But I still had one date left to do, the one in Dublin the following weekend. Again. This date was because of that incredibly kind northerner who knew I’d always wanted to go to Dublin. It also became a birthday weekend for her stepmum as well. And while it’s safe to say this is the furthest I’d ever travelled to see Jason, again, what a weekend! My sister set off bright and early for our flight. My sister, the Jason superfan, that is. Ever since a photo had been posted on X (or Twitter if you’re old school) after the York date of the three of us standing up and someone commenting on the energy of these three fans, it became a running joke that she was a superfan. It’s not something I’ll ever tire of! We had such a fun first day. We convinced Dave the Taxi Driver to play Jason as he took us into Temple Bar. He got such a candid photo of us when we got out of the taxi. We danced in the street. I tried Guinness for the first time and loved it.
The following day we did an Afternoon Tea Bus around Dublin and learnt some fascinating facts about doors. And I saw a green postbox. What can I say? Once a geek, always a geek, right? We had another fab day in Dublin and as we headed back to our apartment, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Not only was this the last night of seeing Jason, but that northerner had a Meet and Greet ticket and I didn’t. It just didn’t feel right. I’d love to be able to say that I hadn’t moaned, made numerous digs about this or made my sister’s life a misery but I can’t quite do that. Because I’d done all of this.
As the northerner headed off, I sat and sulked, made myself a cuppa and ate some onion rings. What I was unprepared for was the call that came shortly afterwards. “How quickly can you get here?” were her opening words. I swore quite vociferously at her. I can now confirm that when there is a Jason Meet and Greet ticket available, I can take a call, get changed, chuck make up in a bag, order an Uber and get down to reception from the 16th floor of an apartment in eight minutes. Eight minutes. No wonder my adopted northern mum has coined the nickname Road Runner for me! But I didn’t give it a second thought. I just went. And would now like to make a public apology for doing this after all the moaning I’d done up until this point. It’s only fair really. I was a bit of a nightmare. But I didn’t really have a chance to think about this Meet and Greet as I had with the other two. I just had to wing it. I got the most unexpected hug from Jason ever. It felt like the perfect way to end the Doin’ Fine 25 Tour.
But as I look back and think about this tour, I’ve realised so very much. That little seven-year-old who decreed she was going to marry Jason Donovan would never have envisaged quite what being a fan of his would bring to her world 30-something years later. The other Jason fans that she gets to talk to and who have been there for her across the highs and lows of the last five years. The Meet and Greets which were almost a metaphor for how she’s dealt with her life during the last five years. The nervousness, the inappropriateness and the winging it. She’s done all of it since her late husband fell ill. The adopted family that she now has because of Jason. The adventures and trips she’s gone on. The smiles and laughs she’s had. The sheer enjoyment she still gets from being a fan and being transported back to the 1980s when she sees him.
People joke that most people grew out of being a Jason fan in the early 90s. I didn’t. And I don’t think I ever will. Because without him I wouldn’t have as much as I do in my life. So much that I’m so very grateful for.
The Beatles sang “Money can’t buy me love.” Jason covered it during this tour. They’re right. Money can’t buy you love. But it can buy you concert tickets and help you make amazing memories. And that’s pretty much the same thing.
Life is a rollercoaster 