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It was my brother Mike who first got me enthusiastic about pop music. He used to buy his singles on a saturday morning and I'd wait for him to return home to play them on our little suitcase record player. I will always remember his smart words when i told him I thought Steve Harley was rubbish as he couldn't sing. He told me 'nothing is rubbish if somebody likes it'. From then on I listened to music in a whole different way. buddies came and went, Steve Fordham was my right hand man in several of our escapades some of which I cannot talk about till the statute of constraints runs out. We might fish down Tottenham Locks and go adventuring together though I do not understand why we did get on as he used to enjoy me being in discomfort especially the time when we received caught scrumping in somebody's garden and a dog was put on us. Steve flew over the wall but i struggled being a tiny bit smaller. I was there, attempting to pull myself up over the wall with a dog hanging on my trouser leg. I think Steve must have been close to wetting himself that day. We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun though it was a doleful day when he moved up to Burnley and my pa wouldn't even let me have a sleepover for his yesterday. Life was good for many years until my dad met someone and got remarried. With her came 3 more boys. Are you able to imagine it ? Six boys in one house. So goodbye Leyton, howdy Stratford. The worse thing about this move was that I had to share a room with her youngest and he was a handful with an especially quick fiery temper. I can remember coming back home and finding all my stuff thrown out the window and laying in the back garden with my treasured cuddly bear impaled on the garden fence. These were difficult times for me and my bros as she ruled the roost and the stereotypical step-mother held court. Things were not all bad though. We usually got on with the bros Steve, Graham and Colin, the youngest, but the bonus was the fellowship of Gary the kid from next door. Out of all the years living there the best year has to be 1976. It was actually the year when the sun failed to stop shining all summer and the vacation we had down in Looe, Cornwall was the best vacation i'd ever had. Cornish Pasties were the food of the god's and sweetest romance matured. Everything was just going great. Gary and me spent all summer catching the 69 bus to Beckton lido with our crew playing about in the pool, and to cap it all I'd finally managed to get back in communication with my old buddy Steve and arranged a trip up to Burnley for Xmas. It was so new and exciting traveling up there on the national coach as I'd never been away from home on my own before. When I arrived Steve was there waiting for me and the welcome I got from his mother and family nearly made me cry. We partied all over the place which was like being a celebrity. The girls would continuously ask me to claim different words in my cockney accent,. You didn't hear me bitching. I can remember one party particularly because they actually stopped it to observe Starsky and Hutch! The Yuletide week culminated at the Cat's hairs for New Years Eve and we danced all night to the likes of Rose Royce, Leo Sayer and Candi Staton finishing the evening off with John Christie's Here's to like. it was a great end to probably the best year of my life.
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