Sad News: What happened to my daughter in front of Taylor Swift was every parent’s worst nightmare: Being metres from the stage at the Eras tour should’ve been a night to remember..Read More

It’d taken an awful lot to be there. We’d driven five hours from the north of England, stayed in a hotel overnight, then queued up in front of the stadium for eight hours in the blazing sunshine to get prime position in front of the barriers. We didn’t even get to see the unforgettable momentjoy. And, at least for the start of it, it was a night of pure elation and we were a happy part of the Swiftie family. Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly, we were being sped round to the medical centre at the back of the stadium then bundled off to hospital. We were told by medics that only one person could travel with Sophia in the ambulance, and the others would have to make their own way there – without a car; while 100,000 people were beginning to exit the stadium. In the end, they offered to point my friend to the best place to get a cab, which turned out to be an area where all roads were shut. They had to walk half an hour to get a Tube, shaken and confused.

A few hours later, exhausted and heartbroken and in some random London hospital, I could only think – how did we get here? And how is this fair?

When we booked the tickets a year ago my daughter hadn’t been diagnosed as epileptic. I opted for the only tickets available to us in the pure stress of the rapid Swift lottery – four VIP “Ready For It” package tickets, which cost enough to give me heart palpitations. But it felt important and precious to us as a family – as a single parent raising teenagers – so I made plans to pay the tickets off and clicked “purchase”.