Two Idiot running a blog

There was one birthday, or Mother’s Day, where we were sat giving Mum her present. Harry was beside himself, for the first time he had managed to not blow a surprise early. She’d opened her card and was just about to tear into the wrapping paper when he couldn’t hold it anymore and exploded: ‘It’s a handbag!’ So close.

I stayed nearby so that when the call came and he was out of the competition, I could go and commiserate, take him home to Cheshire and school, and back to his normal life. None of us wanted him to fail but we never dreamed things would go the way they did. That call never came. He has just kept on winning and winning - maybe not The X Factor, but there’s no denying he’s golden. My baby brother never came home again. He grew up, and all of our memories became his origin story.

Playing these big venues when you just see a sea of people, that view.. You stop for a second and wish you could bring all your friends to just stand these with you for a second and see it. It’s unlike anything else. There’s no drug you can take that gives you that same high. It’s pretty amazing that it’s a natural thing. The feelings come back to you - the view, the people. It’s cool to have such specific moments in your mind to look back on.

harry: