come at me ed.

It’s been a turbulent week.
My emotions have been played with, I’ve been angry, hysterical, sad, and finally, completely elated.

I’ve wanted to see Ed Sheeran live for about 5 years.
Never managed to go, and the more enamoured I came with the Gingerbread Man himself, the more people who had been to see him live told me I should go, I’d love it, they’d say, he’s incredible live, they’d say.

Ed’s coming down under.

Tash had been almost frantically tagging me in posts on FB, and despite being in training, I was determined to get tickets. I’d briefed Zac that we weren’t going to spend more than $70 a ticket, we’d get seats, but they didn’t have to be the stupidly expensive ones.
I diligently downloaded the app, sat and waited for the clock to tick over to 1pm and then boom.
I’d got tickets on hold.
Although so had every other fucker in Victoria (including Tash), and after 15 minutes of the page keeping me sat on ‘loading’, I had to dismally go back to work and accept the fact that I wasn’t going to see Ed.

My gloomy mood was made worse by Tash celebrating her tickets, and my vain attempt to get tickets in Sydney and failing. There were people on Twitter selling tickets, but before long my glumness was turning to anger at the scalpers who were already selling tickets for $300 plus a pop.
Tash tried to call me.
I ignored her. I was too angry to speak to her, irrationally so, I know, but the emotion was real and I wasn’t ready to be a complete bitch to her just yet.

Talking to Zac in the car on the way to the train station the next day, I was become Ed’s spokesperson:
“I just know that he doesn’t want it, like he fights so hard to keep ticket prices affordable and tells us all not to buy from the scalpers, but I just feel so let down by everyone. It’s not fair on the people who really wanted to see him, when he’d tried so hard to make the gigs accessible to everyone.”
I wanted to stomp my feet, and be a Princess, have a full on strop, but I was trying not to be petulant at training given I’d only just met these people, but I’d made such a big song and dance about getting tickets that I had to walk back in the next day, tail between my legs.

Roll around to my week in store and there’s been another date announced.
I’ve made triply sure that I’ve signed up for the pre-sale and I’m sat at my desk as the boss is trying to explain something important to me, entirely distracted because I’m not missing out this time.

4.5 very intense minutes later, and we’d got two (pretty good) tickets to see Ed Sheeran, next year.
It was such an adrenaline rush just trying to get the tickets, and I immediately called Tash to apologise for being a bitch up until this point, affirming that we could be friends again.

I went in to training again today and announced to the room, thanking them for their concern and worry, but ensuring them, they’d be pleased to know that I’d done it, I’d got the tickets.
I’m sure 60% of them thought I was being serious, until I mentioned Ed Sheeran.

I don’t know if I’ve made this post clear enough.
Did you know I’m going to see Ed Sheeran? Live? Next year?

In preparation, I’ve already started listening to Ed on repeat, with most playlists sponsored by Ed Sheeran.
I don’t care that I’m hearing Shape of You twelve times a day, and I’ve been binging his radio covers and appearances on YouTube.

Can’t. Wait.



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