This reminds me of trying to do my eyeliner like the dark haired one (not Phil!) and being chuffed when someone told me at the local disco I danced just like her...taken as a compliment at the time, now I'm not so sure...
It makes me think of camping. Five of us in a two man ex-army tent for a week, aged 15. My best mates older brother who drove us there and helped put up the tent, was sentenced to 25 years back awhiles: for buying guns in Europe , flying them back in a light aircraft and throwing them out over a field. Where some stooge picked up the booty. Of course someone snitched and he had his collar felt upon landing..
You Essex boys, Mondo! This reminds me of a far more innocent time when I passed myself off successfully as Joanne Catherall in a pub off Regent Street. I was with a friend, Sean, who was a convincing Phil Oakey clone (though he kept quiet because he couldn't do a Sheffield accent, whereas I could.). People were sending us over drinks all night and I thought how wonderful it must be to be famous.
You'll be featuring in this when it gets to '83, Hels. And I don't think there's any shame in being compared to Joanne Catherall or Susanne Sully whatsoever. Just ask ISBW.
It reminds me of Canet Plage in the south of France, my first foreign holiday. I was nine and the discos at night were full of teenagers who danced to many a Human League tune and chainsmoked.
This reminds me of trying to do my eyeliner like the dark haired one (not Phil!) and being chuffed when someone told me at the local disco I danced just like her...taken as a compliment at the time, now I'm not so sure...
ReplyDeleteIt makes me think of camping. Five of us in a two man ex-army tent for a week, aged 15. My best mates older brother who drove us there and helped put up the tent, was sentenced to 25 years back awhiles: for buying guns in Europe , flying them back in a light aircraft and throwing them out over a field. Where some stooge picked up the booty. Of course someone snitched and he had his collar felt upon landing..
ReplyDeleteYou Essex boys, Mondo! This reminds me of a far more innocent time when I passed myself off successfully as Joanne Catherall in a pub off Regent Street. I was with a friend, Sean, who was a convincing Phil Oakey clone (though he kept quiet because he couldn't do a Sheffield accent, whereas I could.). People were sending us over drinks all night and I thought how wonderful it must be to be famous.
ReplyDeleteYou'll be featuring in this when it gets to '83, Hels. And I don't think there's any shame in being compared to Joanne Catherall or Susanne Sully whatsoever. Just ask ISBW.
ReplyDeleteAnd Mondo! What company you keep.
It reminds me of Canet Plage in the south of France, my first foreign holiday. I was nine and the discos at night were full of teenagers who danced to many a Human League tune and chainsmoked.
ReplyDeleteI had to be in bed by 10, sadly. Even on holiday.