Picture it—July 1998, the six-week summer holidays. My nan asked me what I’d like to do. The park? The zoo? The cinema?
But nine-year-old me had other plans.
“Nan, I want to do a tour of Wembley Stadium,” I said eagerly.
Without hesitation, she replied, “If Wembley Stadium is what you want to do today and you can’t stop thinking about it, that’s a sign you should. You don’t want to regret never doing it.”
Those words stuck with me. I’m so grateful that little me chose Wembley—what is now known as Wembley Stadium, built in 1923, — before it and its iconic Twin Towers were demolished in 2003.
My fascination began in the school library, where I read about historical buildings. Wembley stood out—not for the football or the 1948 Olympics, or even the 1966 World Cup—but for its music history. The book also featured Live Aid, the legendary 1985 benefit concert held simultaneously at Wembley and JFK Stadium in Philadelphia to raise money for famine relief in Ethiopia. £40 million was raised initially, rising to around £150 million over time.
I wasn’t born until 1988, so for years Live Aid was just pictures in a book. Then, for its 20th anniversary in 2004, a DVD boxset was released. They say you should never meet your heroes, but watching that footage exceeded every expectation. Live Aid ignited something in me—a hunger to see live music, especially at Wembley.
Wembley officially became a music venue in 1972 with The London Rock and Roll Show. Since then, it has hosted legends: Michael Jackson, who played there fifteen times across three tours and earned a Guinness World Record in 1988 for selling out seven Bad Tour shows to a combined 504,000 fans; Queen’s record-breaking 1986 Magic Tour ; the 1992 Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert; Adele’s record-setting 2017 shows; and, in 2025, Oasis’s seven comeback concerts, followed by Coldplay’s ten-show run that same summer.
But none of these moments would have existed without the vision behind Wembley. The architects Sir John Simpson and Maxwell Ayrton, with engineer Sir Owen Williams, built it atop land first used for the British Empire Exhibition (1924–25). The exhibition’s Twin Towers—initially meant to be temporary—were retained for the stadium thanks to committee chairman Sir James Stevenson’s insistence. His decision gifted London nearly 80 years of one of its most beloved landmarks.
When the old stadium was demolished in 2003, it felt like losing an old friend. The Twin Towers, even granted Grade II listed status in 1976, were the last to fall. The new design placed them where the new pitch would be, sealing their fate.
The new Wembley opened in 2007 and brought a new symbol to the skyline: a stunning 133-metre arch, the largest single roof structure in the world. Yet even in its destruction, Wembley’s past refused to disappear. During demolition, workers discovered the original Olympic Flag from the 1948 Games, which had flown from one of the towers. It was later unfurled again, proudly displayed inside the new stadium—a poignant link between eras.
And though the towers couldn’t be preserved, fragments of their rubble were incorporated into the foundations of the new stadium, meaning a piece of the old Wembley quite literally lives on beneath the pitch. Builders even uncovered remnants of Watkin’s Tower—a 19th-century attempt to rival the Eiffel Tower—during the process. Wembley’s layers of history run deep.
The modern stadium is breathtaking. With 90,000 seats, it is the UK’s largest sports and music venue. Its arch supports 60% of the roof’s weight and can be seen across London—a new beacon for a new generation.
The updated Wembley offers an immersive tour where visitors can explore the press conference room, the royal box, the England changing rooms, and even walk through the players’ tunnel. It’s a tour I’d love to take again, this time seeing how the old spirit lives within the new.
As a music venue, it has more than upheld its legacy. Adele’s 2017 shows drew record crowds. Coldplay, in 2025, played ten consecutive nights, making history once again. And then there was Oasis—the band that brought everything full circle for me.
Picture it—July 2025. The air thick with anticipation and the scent of lager. My husband and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder among 90,000 fans. Above us, the gleaming arch of the new Wembley curved into the night sky, a futuristic echo of the Twin Towers I’d once admired as a child.
The lights dropped. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Then—Oasis.
As the opening chords of Hello thundered through the stadium, I grabbed my husband’s arm. He looked around, awestruck—not just by the music, but by the sheer presence of the place.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” he shouted over the music. “It’s not just a venue—it’s an experience. You can feel the history, can’t you?”
And I could. Every layer of it—the 1923 opening, the first FA Cup Final, Queen’s anthems, Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, the 1948 Olympic Flag, the rubble of the Twin Towers beneath our feet, and the wide-eyed little girl from 1998 standing here again in awe.
My nan’s words echoed in my mind: “If Wembley Stadium is the thing you would like to do today and you cannot stop thinking about it, then this is a sign that you should do it. You do not want to regret that you never did it.”
Decades later, standing there with my husband as 90,000 voices sang in unison, I knew she’d been right.
The Twin Towers may be gone, but their spirit endures in every echo, every light beam, every chord that rings through the night. Wembley—old or new—isn’t just a building. It’s a living monument to dreams, music, and memory. It’s where history is made, again and again.
And as I looked up at the dazzling arch, feeling that same awe my nine-year-old self once felt, I smiled. Because Nan got it absolutely right.
