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Ok after lots of tellings off for not ever finishing it in all these years (especially at Torch reunion last saturday)
Heres another clipping:
One morning I left the Saints and Sinners with everyone else when it shut but
I couldn't find my mate John , with whom I'd gone there with the previous
night, anywhere. In fact, come to think of it, I'd not seen him since about three
that morning. I asked everyone, but although everyone remembered him being
there earlier noone had seen him for ages. I thought it was odd because he
was supposed to be going back to Leeds with me. I went down New Street
with a load of the crowd, and we sat in the buffet as usual, smoking and
talking about the night, waiting for our various trains, to all parts of the
country.
Eventually trains came and people went, but there was still no sign of John.
I went down to platform 6 to wait for the train to Leeds.
Of course, in the world of nighters and gear it was not really unusual for
someone to not be where you'd expect them to be. You could easily, say,
meet a load of your mates from Norwich, and end up going somewhere with
them, or get pulled by the squad or police. You could forget where you were
supposed to be or who you were supposed to be with because of the gear you
took, or indeed if you hadn't forgotten, you maybe liked it better where you
were right now, then where, or who, you were supposed to be. We all
understood this. It wasn't like normal people with normal plans.
A lot of it was "Let's go where the music takes me", to pinch a line out of one
of Jimmy James's songs So often when someone wasn't there, you just
wondered where he was, but didn't worry about where he was
Don't take this to mean we were all morons and didn't know what we were
doing, its that the gear made you fearless, happy and you knew the others
understood this same feeling, because they were all doing the same as you.
Of course there were exceptions. Serious situations were different, and a
DEFINITE promise to turn up was almost certainly kept to, then you may worry
if they weren't there, the rest of the time you just took it as it came.
So I'm sat on New Street station waiting for my train, wondering where
John is, when suddenly he appears!
He's got two holdalls that appear to be breaking his arms.
"Swish. How many records did you sell last night?"
"Not many, actually John. Why?"
"Add up the value of the records in your box".
"There's quite a lot of money there John, about thirty quid."
John chewed his lip non-stop and made a put-put sound all the time.
It used to drive me nuts.
"I'll have 'em all", he says, and opens the first holdall. It's full of ten bob bits.
He counts out sixty ten bob bits. I put them all in my pockets.
My pockets weigh a ton.
He shows me the other holdall, it's jam-packed with cigarettes.
"Go on then. John, tell me the story".
"Well, I left Saints and Sinners about 3.30 to do a chemist, found one
but I couldn't get in so I did the pub next door., and this is what I ended
up with."
"Nice one John", I remarked.
"Swish, do you fancy a lift with us instead of waiting for the train?"
"Oh, you've got a lift"?
"Well put it this way, I've got a car parked outside the station forecourt,
It's quite a nice one too".
So I went outside with him, and there was the car. It was a brand new Daimler!
He'd not only done the pub, he'd nicked, the Daimler as well. Like you do!
Six of us got in it.
There was a problem with the electric windows.
They kept going going up and down on their own, which was a bit of a shock,
seeing as how I never even knew such a thing as electric windows even
existed! It was sorted out somehow, and soon we were on our way out of
Birmingham. John gave us 60 cigs apiece, much to our delight.
Away we went, not frightened whatsoever, but when they all started saying,
Get the sounds on Swish" I thought it was a bit stupid because they had the
windows wound down and I thought it would attract attention.
"I tell you what, Swish, I'll take all the B roads home, where there's
not likely to be coppers, so wait till we get out of Brum then put the
discotron on.
So we did. There we were, speeding along, sounds full blast, when
John spots a hitchhiker at the side of the road.
"Look at that poor geyser, let's give him a lift", shouts John.
"Are you fucking crazy?" I shouted back.
John ignores me and pulls up, and in he gets, though now there are seven of us.
"Here mate, have forty cigs", offers John.
"No thank you, I don't smoke", replies our new friend.
I don't know what he thought. Six kids in a brand new Daimler,
records on full blast, and 500 cigs littered about the car.
Several miles on, we saw we saw a cop car with two coppers in it facing us
on our side of the road. I was certain we'd be stopped. I turned the sounds
down. We got nearer
and nearer to the cop car, I reckoned they'd have to be blind, stupid, or both,
not to think
there was something fishy.
We passed it! Nothing happened! Amazing!
Eventually we arrived in Sheffield. We all had gloves on of course,
but just in case John decided to wipe the car down, so he took it away
somewhere and dumped it. An hour later he was back.
This was almost 40 years ago and nobody would ever believe it any way.
I certainly don't. Lets face it its ridiculous!