In the meantime, and despite being slung out a month before, I had again started to spend my evenings at The Hare. I met Roy “Eggy” Phillips there one night. We had known each other since primary school and my first memory of him was seeing him spit in the playground when he was ten and getting a telling off from one of the teachers for it. I was horrified by this ruffian at the time, but this was exactly the type of attitude needed to be in a successful punk band.
Me & Clive – much like Woodstock in ’69, food was scarce (Knebworth ’78)
Another schoolfriend Clive “Olive” Richardson had bought a drum kit recently (mainly because I think I had coerced him into doing so) and the two of us had started rehearsing in my dad’s garage at the end of the garden.
Lo-Fi Garage Band Popsters rehearsal in the dark (Harlow ’78)
We were early exponents of what would later become bands like The White Stripes and Royal Blood, the only exception being they knew how to play.
The White Stripes – just a cheap ripoff of early Pressure Stops rehearsals
Roy & Song Writing
Roy, I discovered one evening, had started to write some songs of his own and every so often he’d suddenly drop into a riff or some lyrics. Even if he did wear a faux leather, tan jacket that made him look like an extra from The Sweeney, the ability to effortlessly switch into an original song, I found very impressive. Admittedly I was easily impressed.
All Roy needed was a Ford Consul GT and he was set
“My first attempt at song-writing was called “Abandon All Hope”. It was Dm, Am, Em. It went, “Abandon all hope I got psychiatric fever, Abandon all hope let me pull that lever. Abandon all hope let me cry, Abandon all hope I wanna die.” It was very cheerful stuff.”
Roy
The Magnificent 7. L-R (back) Me, Roy (with Tan Jacket ensemble), Jackie, Joy, Steve, (front) Evelyn, Diane – plus guitars. (North Wales ’79)
“Control” was my first proper go at song writing. Whether I’d written bits and pieces before? Probably. I used to read a lot about what Bowie did so I’d cut it up. I’d think of a story and write the end at the beginning, things like that.”
Steve C
Head Gear
You have to understand that I was desperate to be in a band, to write songs, to play live. It took up all my waking hours and most of the sleeping ones too. They called me the human jukebox at work because I was constantly referring to songs, lyrics, bands and the like.
A physical representation of my teenage mind
Band Discussions
So, when Roy nonchalantly dropped into some lyrics that I’d previously never heard, it was both literally and metaphorically, music to my ears. I’d found a kindred spirit, someone who reflected the same treasured aspects of life I held so dear.
We would be sitting in the beer garden at The Hare, on one of the benches that were set out to the side of the pub, talking about music, football or girls and the conversation would subside for a moment.
Roy would take a slug of his McMullens Country and suddenly he’d blurt out, “People on the side looking at me, going round the track to victory,” sneering to nobody in particular. Me, taking the bait would say, “What’s that you’re singing Roy, is it by a new band?” and he’d say dismissively, “Nah, it’s just a song I’m knocking around at the moment. And working on the chorus with Steve.”
Steve – on a good day he could be very charming – Spain ’80
“It sounds great,” I said enthusiastically. “Is it a punk song?” I enquired. He loved this. It gave him the air of an intellectually superior punk poet, preaching to the masses about the fifth-columnist enemy within.
“Yeah, it’s punk with, y’know, a bit of reggae in there.” He took another slug of his booze.
“I like reggae,” I said keenly.
It gave him the air of an intellectually superior punk poet, preaching to the masses about the fifth-columnist enemy within.
Control
“Well, that’s cool because one of the other songs I’m working on is much more reggae influenced. It’s called “Control”. Steve wrote most of the lyrics on that one. It’s got a real catchy off-beat rhythm to it.” Then he went “Boom-Chakka-Boom-Chakka” totally out of time and as if he had no rhythm whatsoever. He was the archetypal punk guitarist.
“Control” ended up here – but not Roy’s version…a misprint saw to that.
I was mesmerised. This guy had a catalogue of songs just waiting to be played and he knew about stuff like ‘off-beats’ which I’d never heard of, but they sounded impressive.
“So,” I ventured. “Are you…er, you in a band then?”
“Nah, not yet,” he replied casually. “Thinking about it though. Steve, the singer, he wants to but it’s finding the right people, y’know?”
Roy – “It’s about finding the right people”
Anyone?
I didn’t know at all. I thought it was about finding anyone. But here was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’d been banging on to anyone who’d listen about starting a band or joining one ever since I’d bought God Save The Queen in ’77, so I decided to press onward.
Control started life as a “slow-tempo-two-chord-skank” and morphed a “slow-tempo-three-chord-skank”
“Well, the way I see it is, it’s like this. You write songs so, do you play guitar, drums or something?”
He nodded slowly, sagely, as if taking in the more pertinent aspects of my questioning, before ruminating on the most suitable response. He then closed his eyes, took a long drag of his cigarette, tilted his head back, exhaled a long plume of blue tobacco smoke into the cool night air and then said “Guitar,” in a kind of monotone voice, as if he was already bored with the constant attention he received from adoring fans.
Under different circumstances I would have taken this as a hint not to proceed but I wasn’t about to give up so easily on this occasion though. This chance meeting was potentially the next step to reaching my goal; my destination.
The Deal Breaker
“Your friend Steve, he sings?”
Steve serenades Diane and Jonsey…or perhaps not, based upon that look.
He nodded again. “Yep.”
“So, how about this then. I play the guitar; I have some songs too. And Clive. You remember Clive from school? He plays drums. So why don’t we pool our resources and see what happens? We just need to find a bass player and we’re set. Whaddya think?”
He gave it some thought, weighing up the pros and cons whilst considering the complex paradigm I had presented to him. “Could work,” he said finally. “I’ll see what Steve thinks. He should be here soon.”
“Great,” I said. “So, where are you living these days?”
Proper Rock ‘n’ Roll
“Over at Katherines. With my sister,” he replied. “Moved out from home as soon as I could.” This guy was proper rock ‘n’ roll, I thought. Smoked, drank, wrote songs, played guitar, probably on uppers and had already left home. He had it all going on.
Roy – the ginger gun-slinger guitarist had it all going on
Steve arrived soon after, all long, tall and gangly with floppy hair and acting like he was on speed.
“I did have a lot of nervous energy at the time.”
Steve C
We did the introductions and got on really well. Steve was very serious when it came to music and was very knowledgeable about the subject too, which was perfect for me since it was my favourite subject also. We discussed punk battle scars i.e. what gigs we’d been to, what albums we had, and what songs we liked, and discovered we liked the same things.
One of Steve’s early Pressure Stops flyers
This was all going perfectly, I thought. And as I soon discovered, my spidey-senses were right on the money.
Because it was fairly central to everyone I socialised with, we had started to frequent a pub on the far side of town called The Hare. A few friends from school used to hang out there and it quickly became the place for youngsers to come and chill out after a hard week of avoiding doing anything at college or school.
Being a 17th Century inn, The Hare was the obvious place in Harlow to start a punk band.
“We were working at Blakedales and Roy suggested we go to The Hare one Friday night or whatever, which is where I met Lee and then James Doherty who I’d met before, although I didn’t make a very good first impression with him to start with.”
Steve C
“Not many people did!”
Roy
James Doherty – Is that my Guinness?
Blakdale (pronounced Blakedales) – where Roy met Steve C in ’76. The rest is history, much like Blakdales.
“Initially there was Steve Christy, Allan Walker, Gary Hull, then Cob appeared on the scene not long afterwards. And then other people used to drift in and out, like Mark McCallum, the guy with the van…Roland, Paul Weeks, Dave Sessford. Then there was Jackie Jones, Diane and Evelyn. Then Bill Meadows (of The Gangsters) drifted in. And Bill Pearmain.”
Steve C
Gary Hull, Roy, Me, Allan Walker & Clive enjoy a nutritious breakfast – Bradford ’79
“Bill was the playleader at The Dashes play scheme and when me and James used to go there and he’d sell us dope.”
Roy
Diane Butler and Jackie Jones – backcombing was a speciality
Lakes
Dave “Dartz” Bridge, Alistair “Gibbo” Gibson and I had spent a fortnight away in the Lake District, mainly because we enjoyed Geography and Geology and went to look at Palæozoic land masses, Arêtes and Basket of Eggs (Drumlin) scenery. Our geological ramblings suitably fulfilled, we returned to The Hare and were unceremoniously chucked out by the landlord for being underage.
Gibbo, Dartz & Me atop a breezy Skiddaw, Cumbria, ’781
It was the 24th of August 1978, the day before my 18th birthday, so I couldn’t really argue. I was one of the youngest in my peer group, so the others did argue but it was to no avail. Not only was I 24 hours underage for drinking in a pub, but I also only looked about 12.
Steve “Frisk” Christy, chucked out of The Hare, so went to the offy instead
Pressure Purchases
For my 18th birthday I had asked my dad to buy me an electric guitar. I had owned an electric guitar once before. An old right-handed copy of a Stratocaster which I’d traded with a friend of Steve Byrne’s, for a full-face Cromwell crash helmet I didn’t use anymore.
Monster Japanese 50cc Bike, soon to become a monster Japanese guitar & amplifier
I had spoken to a guy I worked with who played guitar in a band. He’d suggested something like an Ibanez/Peavey combo for the money I was looking to spend, and I’d been scanning the adverts in the music papers for months and had seen an Ibanez Les Paul Custom copy ‘left-handed’ for sale in a shop in Ealing and decided I had to have it.
Aladdin’s Cave
One Saturday (when I wasn’t in The Hare) I travelled up with my dad on the train and with the assistance of an AtoZ of London we found the shop tucked away in a side street. On entering, we discovered the wall behind the counter was covered from floor to ceiling with guitars of all makes, colours and sizes. It occurred to me I’d never been in a real guitar shop before and the plethora of equipment on sale, was breath-taking. It was like an Aladdin’s cave of bejewelled guitars: bright reds, metallic blues, deep blacks, sonic purples, sunlit yellows; everything.
London A to Z. Early offline Beta version of Google Maps
Ibanez & God
And then, there in the middle, shining out like a beacon from heaven was a pure white, left-handed Ibanez Les Paul custom guitar with gold hardware, black binding and a black scratch plate and volume/tone controls. As if it had been struck by a ray of sunlight, the guitar appeared to glow and shimmer, and I felt the sturdy touch of God’s hand upon my shoulder as he propelled me forward, and suddenly the shop was full of the majestic voices of angels singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” over and over. I looked again. This time it stood out because it was both white and left-handed and I knew then it would be mine.
Was the guitar shop called Wayne’s World of Guitars? It wasn’t, but should’ve been
Ralph and the Streets
I didn’t care what the guitar sounded like: the action, neck, frets, machine heads, bridge, saddles, pickups, wiring, weight, feel, playability. None of that stuff mattered because I either didn’t know what it was, or that it was important.
How the Ibanez Les Paul “White Wanderer” may have looked in the guitar shop in Ealing
What I did know was months of searching had led me here and if I didn’t go away with this guitar, I’d be starting again from scratch. One of the assistants in the shop got it down, plugged it in, ran off a few riffs upside down and handed it over. “Take your time,” he said, “I’ll be over here if you have any questions.” How daunting, I thought. I had to play it now. In front of everyone!
When in a guitar shop, some go for Stairway To Heaven, others prefer Ralph McTell
I sat on the amp and my dad sat next to me. I honestly had no fucking idea what I was supposed to do. So, I did what any other self-respecting novice would do. I apprehensively strummed an open E chord. It jangled brightly and harmoniously in my ears. “Wow!” I said. “That sounds good.” I tried a few chords and played “The Streets of London” by Ralph McTell, not because I thought it would sound good on an overdriven Les Paul, but it was one of the songs I’d learnt at my guitar lessons and so I could play it quite well.
Johnny & Johnny
“Well, what do you think?” my dad asked. “Are you going to be Johnny Hendrix then or that Johnny Horrible bloke?” He often did this. And he also sung the wrong lyrics. Partly for the entertainment factor, partly to wind me up and partly I guessed, to distance himself from the younger generation, as if misremembering lyrics effectuated a dismissive attitude to something of little consequence or importance.
One of his favourite songs was “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate, but he would sing “I believe in milkmen,” instead of “miracles.” What was a miracle was he wasn’t put away.
“I believe in milkmen!”
Misremembering lyrics effectuated a dismissive attitude to something of little consequence or importance
My dad’s attitude to popular, contemporary beat music
Jam Trifle
The lyrics, “Hello Hooray, what a nice day for the Eton Rifles,” became “Hello, hooray, what a nice day, he’s a right one,” which then became, “…what a nice day, eat your trifle.”
The Eton Trifles
Who or What?
He didn’t save this for me alone though. I remember he asked my brother Robert questions about an album Rob had borrowed from a friend, which my dad referred to as “The What – Dead at Wrexham.” Robert would roll his eyes, sigh in a world-weary way that only a teenager can and reply, “It’s “The Who Live at Leeds!””
“That’s them!” he’d reply enthusiastically. “The Who…Live…..at Wrexham.”
The Who may have played as ‘The What’ when they toured North Wales
Pressure Peavey
I bought the guitar. I couldn’t afford a case for it, so they put it in a guitar box, and I took it home. Later I bought a Peavey Classic 50-watt combo amp from another shop in London. This time it was in Tooting and my dad came with me again. He drove this time as getting a 50-watt, two tonne amp home on the tube was going to be a bit of a tall order.
My mate Steve “Bernie” Byrne came with me and tried to talk me into buying some guitar strings, but I wouldn’t part with any more money than I had decided was necessary. It was a habit I think I’d picked up from my parents. If I hadn’t broken a string on my guitar I reasoned, why would I need spares?
Peavey 50w Classic
“The first bass I used with The Pressure Stops I borrowed from Alan Wellbelove. The first guitar I had was a black Les Paul copy. I don’t remember what happened to it.”
Roy
“Roy and I went to Romford on the Green Line bus and there was a little music shop there, and I bought the loudest amp I could afford, with a mic and stand. Then the bus broke down on the way home and we were stuck at Theydon Bois for hours waiting for a replacement bus. As was the way for the next few years though, we lugged all the gear between us round to the bus station at Katherines, to go to rehearsals at Netteswell.“
Steve C
Roy & Steve board the wrong bus to Rock ‘n’ Roll stardom
Find People Who Want The Same Thing
“Roy and I went to Harlow College to do an ONC day release and one morning we went down to the Refectory and there was Steve Lazarus, who I knew vaguely, and Mick Cowley sitting at one of the tables, and someone said, ‘We’re starting a band, can you play anything?’ I said ‘no I can’t’ but that was Howard Like they were putting together.”
Steve C
“A few months later we saw them playing a gig. And the likes of Kevin Jones (The Sods) was saying stuff like, “You lot should start a band”. And all of a sudden it occurred to you that you could start a band up. It wasn’t until people you hung around with or you saw on the streets or at parties said it, that you thought you could be in a band.”
Steve C
Steve & Roy found likeminded musical people here
“The first actual band we had was ‘Eggy & The Chips’, which was Me, Steve, Cob and James. It reached legendary status due to never actually existing as a functioning band.”
Roy
A few weeks later I was back at The Hare, meeting other “musicians” and suddenly I was discussing forming a band.
In May ’77 I bought my first punk record. I went out from school at lunchtime to Startime Records with my mate Dave “Dartz” Bridge and bought the single, “God Save The Queen” by a new pop band called The Sex Pistols.
Startime Records was at the far end of Post Office Walk – No. 21.
Epic
An epic record and not a bad way to start your punk record collection. Anyway, we went back to school and played it at full volume on the 6th Form record player, much to the chagrin of the teachers and the 6th form girls who preferred to have a quiet chinwag at lunch time.
Is there a more iconic picture sleeve in existence?
“The first punk record I bought was Anarchy, the day it came out. I’d been reading about punk in the record papers since the middle of ’76 and so it had already caught my eye.”
Steve C
Anarchist
An even better place to start
“My first punk record was The Dickies, Nights In White Satin and then the Aussie band, The Saints, This Perfect Day. The Dickies single was on white vinyl too.”
Steve Byrne
The Dickies – If you couldn’t play it at 100mph then what was the point?
“My first punk record? I don’t remember.”
Roy
Welcome To The Hotel California
“My one stand out memory was buying Never Mind The Bollocks. My mother was not impressed at all! I decided to tuck it under my arm and visit a friend. Ray Pask and a couple of others were standing on a corner and they looked at me curiously and said, “Have you got that album?” “Yep,” I replied. They were still listening to Hotel California. What a Rebel!”
Robbie Tucker
It’s No Secret Now
“To my eternal shame my first ever record purchase was “No Secrets” by Carly Simon. I was probably 13, and shame, because a mate who lived around the block in Long Ley used to host Monopoly and Cluedo parties, and his mum had it – I literally fell in love with the girl on the cover but the songs were brilliant. They still are of course, and now I appreciate them for their quality rather than the pic of Simon casually flaunting herself on a London street with a T-shirt and no bra. The breast fixation has remained with me throughout my life.”
Clive
According to Clive, (and many others no doubt) Carly Simon was “none too shabby in the tit department”
Go To Gigs
In November ’77 (the 5th to be precise) me and my punk mate Dave Puddiford went to our first punk gig. It was fitting that it was The Stranglers. It took place at The Roundhouse in Chalk Farm, London and I couldn’t even begin to describe the thrill and the emotions of actually being there, in the middle of the whole punk wave that had swept the country, despite the Establishment desperately trying to crush it.
“The gig was like being repeatedly smashed in the face with a sledgehammer wrapped in cotton wool and dipped in adrenaline, punctuated by the grind of a chainsaw”
At a Stranglers Gig ’77
The Stranglers play the best gig ever
The Greatest Gig Of All Time
And it remains to this day, one of the best gigs I’ve ever attended. Possibly the best, purely due to the shock, the sonic attack, the energy, the exhilaration of being there, in a massive crowd, hemmed in on all sides by likeminded people, all there to have a good time. Because it was like joining a club where everyone and everything reflected all the things you adored. And you didn’t have to explain it to anyone, they all just ‘knew’, by osmosis or something.
Also, it wasn’t just me who thought it was good, most of it ended up on a ‘live’ album.
The Stranglers were so impressed with me attending one of their gigs, they recorded it for posterity
Afterwards when everyone left, bathed in sweat and smiling from ear to ringing ear, Dave and I decided we had to repeat this outing…and soon.
From Harlow to Hammersmith
The Boomtown Rats. Bob Geldof occasionally gave his mild views an ‘airing’.
We did. In December we were back in London to see The Boomtown Rats at The Rainbow on Saturday 17th (tickets were £2.50) and on Sunday 18th we saw The Jam play their final gig of ’77, at the Hammersmith Odeon.3
Dave Puddiford and Me consider which punk record to buy next even though we’d never heard of it (Austria, ’76)
Up The Spurs
Anyway, we stayed at my Nan’s in Tottenham for the weekend because it was cheaper and there were no guarantees the trains would run late enough to get us back to Harlow after the gigs had finished.
The Jam play a bouncy little number
1st Punk Gig
“My first punk gig would have been The Vibrators at Tiffany’s in Harlow. That would’ve been about May 1977. I’m not sure whether Roy was there or not.”
Steve C
“I don’t remember.”
Roy
Steve’s 1st gig. Might have been Roy’s too.
“A few weeks later we went to the Harlow version of Punk Rock. Again at Tiffany’s. I can remember Lorcan Divine (of The Rabbits) selling us tickets. We were sitting outside The Willow Beauty. He said everyone’s playing tonight. It was an early version of The Rabbits, Pete the Meat and the Boys dressed in ponchos, The Gangsters I think and The Sods/Rage was headlining.”
Steve C
Pete The Meat & The Boys without Mexican attire
Chelmsford Punk Festival
“Steve and I went to the Chelmsford Punk Festival. There were about 1500 people there. The Damned were supposed to headline but didn’t so Eddie & The Hot Rods did it instead. I remember Lew Lewis was playing and the scaffolding around the stage was being taken down (because nobody was going to get paid). Chelsea, Fruit Eating Bears played, and Aswad too.”
Roy
“The Punk explosion meant regular trips to The Triad to see such formidable outfits as Crass, Poison Girls and A Flux of Pink Indians – a lesson in “I don’t give a shit” rock ‘n’ roll to last forever.”
Robbie
Poison Girls – effortlessly giving zero shits
Pressure Plagiarism
I continued to practice the guitar and teach myself how to write songs and then on the 22nd of September 1978 the The Buzzcocks released their second album, called Love Bites, which I thought meant love is painful rather than a reference to the marks you might end up with on your neck if you were an over amorous teenager.
Q. How do you write songs?
A. Listen to this and ruthlessly plagiarise
As usual, I bought my latest punk record from Startime Records and discovered not only an incredible collection of bright, catchy, poppy punk songs but the core of the songs was fairly rudimentary (a feature of punk music) and this was a turning point for me.
Pressure De Plata
Suddenly I didn’t have to possess the ability of Manitas De Plata or Dave Gilmour to be able to write pop songs and I discovered I could write punk songs with the few major, minor and seventh chords I already knew.
“At that time all of those prog rock bands were fantastic, classically trained musicians but it wasn’t accessible to people like us coming out of a crappy, comprehensive school and living on a Council Estate. And that above all is the amazing thing that punk provided and no other movement before or since has ever done.”
Roy
OGWT
The Buzzcocks album was like opening up the whole world of music to me which until now had been closed to all but the most gifted musicians i.e. those who appeared on the Old Grey Whistle Test.
However, I used to love the overblown, bombastic pomposity of some of those bands. Introduced by “whispering” Bob Harris, OGWT often featured bands who were as dull as ditch water, with guitarists whose solos used all of the fretboard all of the time. Not because it sounded good but because they could, so consequently, were (thankfully) way out of my league.
And sometimes they’d have Bowie on, or Alex Harvey, or even The New York Dolls. Something with bite. With energy.
“Mock Rock”. Whispering Bob struggled to comprehend why a nation’s disaffected youth treated him with disdain and suspicion
Curtains for Bob
Then punk arrived and like an unruly, petulant child, ripped the curtain aside and we saw OGWT for what it truly was. A bunch of ageing Hippies desperately clinging to the gravy train they’d been riding since the 60’s. Which effectively meant keeping me and people like me, out. OGWT and Punk mixed about as well as oil and water.
I may have been a little hasty with my disparaging remarks regarding OGWT
Sniffin’ Glue deconstructs the art of song-writing
But to paraphrase “Sniffin’ Glue” the punk fanzine of the time, all I had to do was learn three chords and form a band. And sometime later, I did. Unfortunately for an unsuspecting world, it was The Pressure Stops.
People On The Side: The Pressure Stops. 2 - Peaches
lee.r.adams
8 May, 2022
Punk music began to develop quickly in the UK, much to the frustration of a disaffected establishment, hell-bent on shutting down the problem at source.
During 1976 an explosion occurred in central London which, albeit small at the time, caused ripples and reverberations that eventually made their way to Harlow in Essex, into the house I lived in at The Downs, up the stairs and into the bedroom I shared with my elder brother Robert.
Robert, Carolyn and Me. It’s possible Carolyn didn’t share my enthusiasm for driving. (Harlow Fair – ’63)
On this occasion, the explosion wasn’t the IRA, who had been targeting mainland Britain for a number of years, this time the explosion was of the musical variety and became widely known as Punk Rock. Or just Punk. It was a form of music that paved the way for bands like The Pressure Stops to come into existence. Clearly there was a downside then.
The house in The Downs where an idea to form a punk band began to germinate
Punk wasn’t just about music, it was an attitude, it was fashion, anger, aggression; it was about making dreams seem accessible. It reflected the attitudes of a disaffected youth and its ethos of “Do It Yourself” was the catalyst for another musical form “Indie” to come into existence from the ashes of Punk and New Wave.
Disclaimer
And this is why I like to inform my children at every possible opportunity, that The Pressure Stops invented Indie. I should point out that The Pressure Stops didn’t officially ‘invent’ anything, least of all a whole musical sub-genre. But we were there, at the vanguard of the movement that did. Ok, so not at the vanguard exactly, but off to the side a bit, or near the back, choking in the dust thrown up by others more competent than us.
Four Horsemen
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Sex Pistols came to overthrow a 1000 year-old entitled, elitist establishment with nothing more than a handful of 3 minute pop songs and a couple of ripped T-shirts
People On The Side
And herein lies the truth about my dubious claim to fame. We weren’t the bastions of youth culture: we weren’t the leaders of a revolution: we weren’t breaking down the barricades. We were the People On The Side; the outliers, the watchers from the window, bystanders, looking on as others garnered fame, took the plaudits, accepted the accolades and then proceeded to sell their souls to corporate record companies, to High Street clothes shops and to anyone that was willing to stump up a few quid.
Woof
So, although The Sex Pistols, The Clash et al were making a little ‘filthy lucre’ from record deals, they were also being moulded into complicit playthings, being trained, with the offer of the occasional cheque and promissory note from the record company.
I wanna be your dog!
But would I have done the same, given the opportunity? Abso-fucking-lutely I would. Now? No way.
DNA
Many young children have a natural, irrational fear of abandonment. And that fear is a critical function of a child’s DNA survival programming i.e. if you fear abandonment you will develop ways to avoid it, ergo you will survive.
But abandonment issues can also lead to an overblown and unhealthy desire for adulation. So, where does a 4-year-old discover examples of adulation in the early 1960’s? One place would be on TV programmes like “Ready Steady, Go!” or what was at the time, the fledgling “Top of the Pops”.
Generation X liked Ready, Steady, Go so much they wrote a song about it
So, in the simplistic terms of a child searching for a form of security, the conclusion he might come to is this:-
Q. How do I survive?
A. By being liked.
Q. How do I become likeable?
A. By being mindful of others feelings.
Q. Anything else?
A. Yes, join a rock band and become famous. 1-2-3-Blam!
The weekend starts here! Peter Noone & Cathy McGowan create an overblown and unhealthy desire for adulation, on Ready, Steady, Go!
Listen To Music
In March ’77, a seismic shift occurred that would change my life forever. It was awatershed moment. There was a period of perceived, uncompromising knowledge, clarity and wisdom, followed by a chaotic maelstrom of confusion, anger and distrust. And it related to punk music and the press.
The most disturbing aspect of Punk was the establishment (here disguised as “the peoples’ paper“) viewed it as a ‘cult’
Pressure Press
We were told by the media to subscribe to the point of view perfectly summarised by Conservative GLC Member Mr Bernard Brook-Partridge when he stated in ’77 that Punk Rock was “nauseating, disgusting and sleazy.” And they were the positive traits. Expanding on this, he stated that most of these bands “would be improved by sudden death.”
The Partridge Family
And The Sex Pistols he concluded, were “the antithesis of humankind.” A bold statement given he’d never met them and had little idea of who they were.
Brook-Partridge discusses Punk Rock and the over-use of adjectives in modern language
Pressure Pravda
But you have to place this information into the context of the historical time period in which it occurred. At that time, I was a very naïve and impressionable young man and as far as music was concerned, it existed in the microcosm of a few controlled shows on TV, a handful of controlled Radio Stations, or on your record or cassette player at home.
The BBC & ITV – possibly modelled on other media outlets
Teenage Lobotomy
So, if the press stated punk rock was a nauseating cult, who was I to argue? My ability to be a rational, free-thinking individual had slowly been eroded, day by day. And people like Brook-Partridge were able, using subterfuge and deceit, to control how the nation thought, spoke and acted. It had been happening to all of us, for the whole of our lives and we never suspected a thing.
They’re Our Heroes
But if, as a nation, we were still bewildered as to where we stood regarding this “disturbing new cult”, up stepped Bill Grundy to clarify a few aspects of the new music scene and it didn’t take much longer to polarise the masses.
6pm – 1st December 1976. The Today Show with Bill Grundy, The Sex Pistols, Siouxsie Sue and Steve ‘Spunker’ Severin of Siouxsie & The Banshees (warning – video contains colourful language)
“I saw the Bill Grundy/Sex Pistols interview live, when it was broadcast, and I was like, ‘Wow, this is somethingelse.'”4
ROY
Oh Alright, Siegfried
So, if you want to find a good example of how Punk Music was received by the mainstream media in the mid 70’s then this interview provides a perfect insight into the dismissive attitude of both towards the other.
The Today Programme issues an unreserved apology (and then sacks Bill Grundy)
A Disturbing Discovery
However, few months later I was listening to the radio one evening when the DJ played a song by a band called The Stranglers, whom I’d heard of but rather assumed, like all punk bands, were just another discordant group of screaming banshee noisemakers who’s very existence would be greatly improved by sudden death. ‘Peaches’, was the song he played, and when I heard the opening riff, played on a Bass guitar, I was shocked. Disturbed even.
The BBC couldn’t decide whether the song Peaches was morally bankrupt or not. So they banned it from TOTP anyway just to be sure.
Three Notes & The Truth
Just three notes and the thud of a Bass Drum, was all it took to dispel all the scaremongering of the press and media who followed their upper-class traditions of eliminating anything that might attempt to wrestle away the control they held over society. In the song, a reggae-type riff appeared, with its sparse, choppy nature and large gaps in the sound, which were highlighted by the snare and the hi-hat opening and closing, making a ‘pea soup’ type of sound.
Jet Black – was he vegan?
Suddenly everything I had read, everything I had seen, everything I thought I understood about the Punk movement evaporated, dismissed as lies and deceit, as soon I heard the intro to Peaches. Its creativity was stunning; it was like music from another planet. Simple, yet complex; it was new, yet had 60’s style keyboards; it had a bright, scratchy guitar cutting through the heavy rhythm set down by the bass and drums, and it had vocals that were melodic and told a story, albeit one of questionable moral virtues.
The Stranglers – invited me into their (nice ‘n’) sleazy world, and I gleefully accepted
Lyrical Morality
But as a 16-year-old I wasn’t aware of the existence of questionable moral virtues and even if I had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. They were lyrics in a song and nothing more. Furthermore, the vocals were not the screaming, vitriolic rubbish I’d been led to believe was the cornerstone of punk. This was a structured song that got into your head and wouldn’t let go. I was converted. The next day I told my elder sister Carolyn. I said, “I heard that song by The Stranglers yesterday. It’s amazing.” She agreed.
I didn’t know it then, but it was exactly what I had been looking for. The first step towards the creation of The Pressure Stops had been taken.
People On The Side: The Pressure Stops. 1 - Blank Generation
lee.r.adams
8 May, 2022
Depending who you asked, The Pressure Stops were a 70’s “Punk/Post Punk/New Wave/Indie” band, from Harlow, Essex.
That’s what they were. But do we know who they were? Over the next few blogs we should start to find out.
Forming in 1978, the Pressure Stops recorded two singles on Airplay Records, which were played on BBC’s Radio 1 by John Peel5. There is also apocryphal “evidence” to suggest they may have once scraped into the Rough Trade chart for one week at No. 49. They disbanded in 1981.
Who Were The Pressure Stops?
The Pressure Stops members were as follows:-
PRESSURE PERSONNEL
Lee “Agg” Adams – Guitar (78-Present)
Steve “Rubber Legs” Coulson – Vocals (78-81, 04-Present)
Roy “Eggy” Phillips – Guitar (78-79) Bass (79-81, 04-Present)
Clive “Olive” Richardson – Drums (78-81)
Steve “Bernie” Byrne – Bass (78-79)
Robert “Robbie” Tucker – Guitar (81-14)
Mick “Keefy” Richards – Bass (81)
Niall “Kelloggs” Kennedy – Drums (04)
John “Macca” McGinn – Drums – (14-19)
This then, is a history of The Pressure Stops as I remember it. This summary includes additional notes from other Stops members (where stated).
The Pressure Stops – Brays Grove, Harlow. (L-R) Me (gtr), Steve (vox), Clive (drms), Roy (bass). A few hours later we were on Radio 1. Sept ’80.
I think it’s fair to say, the Pressure Stops 1st single wasn’t to everyone’s taste. But Radio 1’s John Peel liked it. My wife Vikki didn’t think much of it though. Below is a “Crimewatch Reconstruction” of what happened the first time she heard it (video needs sound for full effect).
Are you playing that fricking song again?
Choose Your Weapon
For my 11th birthday, the guitar I received was both the best and worst present ever. And anyone who’s struggled to play it, will understand the disparate dilemma it can cause. It was a ¾ size six-string acoustic which came with a Lazy Susan Guitar Method book for beginners and the first thing I had to do was learn how to restring the guitar for a left-handed player; a move I have regretted to this day.
Lazy Susan – not quite as inspiring as Bert Weedon
Left Hookers
Since the age of 5 I’d been ‘playing’ the tennis racket guitar and had come to be fairly adroit at strumming with my left hand and working the “neck” with my right. So, it appeared difficult to swap over, even if I had understood the complications being a lefty would later cause.
If you wanted to be in a 70’s punk band, you had to dress the part. Skinny tie, dodgy shirt, white braces…
Still, Paul McCartney and Jimi Hendrix had both done ok so why should I have worried?6
Hey, what key are you in?
“I bought a guitar from my mate James Doherty’s brother Tony, and that was the first guitar I ever had. I paid about £30 for it and I still have it. Anyway, I took it home but didn’t have a clue what to do with it, so my stepbrother taught me how to do a blues riff thing. And that was the first time I had a guitar, picked up a guitar, learnt something. I was fifteen and the guitar always seemed an accessible instrument.”
Roy Phillips
The Fendson “Eggocaster” – Roy’s first guitar, now including marquetry by Nick Howlett
Pressure Play
My Dad always maintained that the look of horror, confusion and disbelief on my face, when I first strummed the guitar and this horrifically discordant and bizarre noise emanated from the sound hole, was the funniest thing he’d seen in years. But it didn’t deter me. Because, those blokes on the telly, effortlessly rattling through a twelve-bar improvised solo with ease and dexterity, were my inspiration. And it looked so simple. I had no idea I’d still be wrestling with it over forty-five years later.
“I tried learning guitar. A guy my dad used to work with, Pete Sherwin, who was quite a good guitarist, he played in bands in the East End, and his band supported the likes of Freddie and the Dreamers and Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas, not sure if it was them specifically, but those types of bands. So he tried to teach me but I could never get the guitar to tune up! When it came to singing, I just wanted to show off a bit.”
Steve Coulson
Roy – I’m not sure which is more scary, the hair or the wallpaper
“Then I bought, or was given, Bert Weedon’s “Play In A Day” guitar book and taught myself some chords. Loads of famous guitarists used that book to learn how to play.”
Roy
As used by proper guitarists…and Roy
Bertie
In deference to Bert Weedon, who’s book I didn’t have, Roy was correct. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Brian May, Pete Townshend, Sting and Mike Oldfield are just some of the musicians who started on guitar with Bert Weedon’s book. So, Roy trod the same early footsteps of many other, more famous contemporaries.
“In my late teens, I got caught up in some stuff called Punk, and no one seemed to have a drum kit. And, despite music being a very important part of my life by now, my own seeming lack of any musically proficient bent seemed no obstacle to buying a kit and being able to make a reasonably coherent racket. Plus, I would be in demand.”
Clive Richardson
EKO
One day in 1975, I visited Muzart, a musical instrument shop in Bishop’s Stortford. There I bought a second-hand EKO Ranger 6 Dreadnought acoustic which cost £45. The guy knocked a fiver off because I’d come all the way from Harlow on the train (all of three stops).
Muzart – Bishop’s Stortford
I had the EKO for about 40 years before it met an untimely and messy end. I maintain it was due to diminished responsibility, after some psychological issues came to visit (and on that occasion they stayed for about a year). One day they decided I should recreate a 60’s Who gig, and I smashed the guitar into a brick chimney breast. But before I’d magically transformed the guitar back into its component parts, it provided me with a stepping-stone into the world of music, bands, song-writing, and gigs.
This Telecaster failed the build quality test, as did my EKO Ranger 6
Early Music
“From a very young age (5-8 maybe) we had an old Bush transistor radio in the kitchen at home. I remember hearing a lot of Fire Brigade by The Move on that radio. For a 7-year-old boy it was pretty cool hearing fire bells on the radio, and grown-ups going wee-ooh, wee-ooh (Roy Wood). ”
Clive
The Move – had issues with emergency services funding
“My earliest memory of music is “Yeah Yeah” by Georgie Fame. I loved that song.”
Roy
Roy’s early jazz influences were later reflected in his edgy bass solos
There were plenty of songs a lot worse than that one. Oh look, here’s one now…
“The first song I really remember getting into was Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep by Middle of the Road.”
Steve C
Where’s your Mama gone? Proto-Punks, Middle Of The Road
“I also remember ‘Ruby – don’t take your love to town’ by Kenny Rogers, and even at that tender age it seemed obvious to me that he’d had his dick blown off in ‘Nam and he could no longer satisfy his wife.“
Clive
Freddie
My earliest favourite was Freddie and the Dreamers, You Were Made For Me. But it was Freddie’s dance moves that had me hooked. Did grown men do this type of thing? Apparently yes, and they made a career out of it.
Freddie Garrity – was made for me
I Belong To The ____ Generation
However, listening to, buying and attempting to play music was one thing, what we needed was a reason to start a band, a vehicle which would propel us forward into the limelight of superstardom, or whatever the hell it was we were looking for.
Although we didn’t know it, the vehicle in question was parked up in a lay-by just around the corner, waiting to pick us up and take us on a joyride to nowhere. The vehicle was called Punk and like many others, we didn’t look it over to ensure it was safe or roadworthy, we just jumped right on in.
The Stranglers are an English rock band who came to prominence during the late 1970’s British Punk scene. Currently touring the UK and Europe on their final “Full UK Tour”7, they recently released the album Dark Matters which reached No. 4 in the UK Charts.
The Stranglers formed in Guildford in 1974 which means they’ve been in existence for 48 years and not 45. However, it’s 45 years since I first saw them in London in 1977, hence the title.
I went to see The Stranglers at the Cliffs Pavilion in Westcliff-on-sea (Southend) recently (15th Feb 2022) but previously I’d seen them at The Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London on 5th November 1977.
A one-way ticket to heaven
Something Better Change
Has much changed in the intervening years? Well yes…and no. For a start, I wasn’t crushed against the stage in the mosh pit this time (thankfully) but being in the seats in the balcony has its drawbacks too. More than you may imagine.
Awaiting the arrival of The Ruts DC (aka The Ruts)
Walk On By
I first discovered The Stranglers in 1977, when I heard the single Peaches on the radio one evening and from the opening few bars I was hooked. I bought the album Rattus Norvegicus IV, No More Heroes, Black & White, then The Raven. And then I stopped. I didn’t buy The Gospel According To The Meninblack because, well, I was 21 by then. Far too old for punk music.
This album featured the instrumental Waltzinblack, famously used in the opening credits of Keith Floyd’s “Floyd On…” cooking programmes
The next Stranglers studio album I bought was Dark Matters, which was released in 2021 and it is an incredibly good album.8
Definitely worth a spin
The Stranglers were never your average punk band. They didn’t follow the pattern as determined by the likes of The Pistols and The Clash and, whilst alienating themselves from the British music press, they conversely brought themselves many admirers. Like me for example. I didn’t care whether they were truly ‘punk’ or not. I liked the music. But they weren’t your average musicians either.
Always The Sun
Hugh Cornwell the singer/guitarist was a Biochemist
Jean-Jacques Burnel the bass player/singer was French/English, a black-belt in martial arts, and a classically trained guitarist
Dave Greenfield the keyboardist was a very-high functioning autistic ‘genius’
Jet Black the drummer owned an off-licence and a fleet of ice-cream vans
Dave Greenfield, Hugh Cornwell, Jet Black, JJ Burnel
In the interim though, since I saw them in ’77 the keyboard player Dave Greenfield, had died. During the pandemic he was admitted into hospital for a heart operation, and then contracted Covid.
Before that Jet Black, the drummer retired from the band in 2018 because he was pushing 80.
And in 1990, Hugh Cornwell, the guitarist, left the band due to the usual musical differences.
No aspiring punk drummer would be seen in anything else
No Mercy
So what has changed in the 45 years since the Roundhouse? Well the Roundhouse was a dirty, unpleasant place that held live music and if you want to know what that gig was like, listen to the live album X-Cert. Most of it is comprised of the gig I attended. As I recall an American band were first on. They were called The Destroyers, or something like that. Or did they have a song called Search & Destroy?9
Featuring me as an audience member
Death & Night & Blood (Yukio)
However, the English punk audience didn’t take to them very well and a lot of spitting ensued. Spitting, I should state, isn’t big or clever especially in a post-pandemic world, but in the UK in 1977, it was either a compliment for a band to be spat at, or as in this case it clearly meant the audience were not impressed.
Down In The Sewer
The singer, Handsome Dick Manitoba (he really was asking for it) then performed the cardinal sin, which is to start lecturing an audience that doesn’t respect you. He said, for the right reasons albeit foolishly, that if the audience didn’t stop spitting, the band wouldn’t continue. Cue a volley of phlegm arcing through the stage lights like arrows from an army of medieval bowmen.
“Handsome Dick” and his hair. On my command, unleash hell!
Black & White
After they cleared off, the lights went down again but The Stranglers didn’t appear. First we were treated to a short, silent black and white Mickey Mouse cartoon accompanied by some jaunty music. Then The Stranglers did appear. On the X-Cert album, Hugh Cornwell makes a reference to the film. “You get a free film here,” he says to a delighted audience. “You don’t even get that at the Hammersmith Odeon!”
Part of the early Stranglers live set
Hugh, who stood directly in front of me, spent time between songs, wiping himself and his Telecaster down with a towel, Dave Greenfield’s keyboards stopped working (a feature of pretty much every gig), JJ Burnel snarled and Jet Black kept perfect time.
The Gospel According To The Meninblack
In 2022 the audience is a little older. There are (as my friend Steve Christy noted) a lot of old, bald men wearing black. And this is very much the case. What he may not have appreciated is these same old, bald men have not only a limitless thirst for cheap beer but also incredibly poor bladder control.
And so the new “Gospel According To The (Old & Bald) Meninblack” is triangular in its formation, with each of the three points representing one absolute necessity of their being, namely: Stranglers, Bar, Toilet. Stranglers, Bar, Toilet, Stranglers, Bar, Toilet. And this continues ad infinitum until the venue closes.
The Stranglers? Nah mate. I’m here for the beer
So, when you sit in the balcony at the Cliffs Pavilion as Vikki and I did the other night, you get to spend half the gig standing up and sitting down as the same group of people go back and forth to the bar, then back and forth to the toilets about 15 minutes later. This continued right up until the very last song of the night. It was actually worse than being at Spurs.
2022 Stranglers play an acoustic encore
Princess Of The Streets
Then as if to add insult to injury, the two seats in front of us were taken by two women, about my age, who not only arrived late but had clearly decided not to spend the evening going to and from the bar, so they had got tanked up before they came in. What we were treated to was choruses of “woo-woo” every 30 seconds, followed by hands in the air like 60’s go-go girls, then the pointing at the band in time to the beat.
Bring On The Nubiles
Then the one in front of me, who we’ll call Brandy (for obvious reasons) started trying to sing the songs, at full volume and out of tune before she suddenly stood up, swayed a little whilst she spoke to her friend (the gig was going on behind her although I now couldn’t see anything), then she stepped out onto the stairs beside us, leaned against the wall, and just when we all thought she was going to throw up, she started dancing. At least she had the decency to move out of the way to boogie so I was thankful for that.
“Whatever happened to the heroes…” Brandy cuts some shapes
Strange Little Girl
Then a couple of songs later she sat down again. Then she started “woo-wooing”, then she started singing Strange Little Girl (the band were playing Skin Deep), then the pointing started again, then she stood up and slowly walked/stumbled down the stairs towards the exit.
5 Minutes (x6)
She didn’t come back for half an hour. Her friend didn’t bother going to find her. I assume she’d seen it all before and was well versed in the whole routine. When she did return, she had another drink in her hand and she flopped into her seat before bouncing back up again, like a jack-in-the-box, to start gyrating on the stairwell once more.
Indian Love Call
A bit later, singer/guitarist Baz Warne started chatting to the audience and Brandy took this as her cue to profess her undying love for him. Again at full volume she started shouting, “I LOVE YOU!” only the “you” part was pronounced “You-Woo-Woo-Woo”. She had her lips pursed with her bottom lip jutting out to really get that final “woo” out.
Brandy at The Stranglers gig
In between her dancing, shouting, pointing, and people going to and from the bar/toilet, a gig was going on in the background. What I saw of it was quite good.
The Stranglers – Peaches. Watch out for Go-Go Hands and people standing up to let the drinkers out
And If You Should See Dave
Towards the end of the gig, The Stranglers played a couple of acoustic numbers, one of which is called And If You Should See Dave – a lament to the recently departed Dave Greenfield. One of the lyrics is “And if you should see Dave say hello, this is where your solo would go,” at which point the lights dim and a spotlight shines on the empty keyboard. That was more emotional than I thought it would be.
And If You Should See Dave…
So, on reflection, both gigs were wonderful for completely different reasons. They had their positive traits and their negative ones too.
Would I see The Stranglers again? Absolutely. I’d just want front row tickets next time.
Some tickets for the tour are still available should you be interested. See link below.
Monday the 17th January was Blue Monday. Not named after the 80’s hit by New Order however, but because it’s the most depressing day of the year. Well, it was for me.
When I got up on Monday the 17th January 2022, I wasn’t thinking, “Well here goes, most depressing day of the year.” But it was anyway. Vikki, in her infinite wisdom as Mother Earth, Goddess of Light, Possessor of all things Virtuous, Breaker of Chains, and also Wife of Mine, had decided that what I really needed at 8.15 on a cold January morning, was a visit to the dentist (ok, so only the hygienist but hey, you’ve still got to leave the house for that).
Mr Adams, having you been flossing with sticks again?
“Working” From Home
I wasn’t best pleased but I went anyway. You’ll be pleased to know that all was well with the facial tombstones other than the fact I don’t know how to use dental floss properly – perhaps using it might be a good place to start. Anyway, I got back from the hygienist and Vikki said to me (as she was “working” from home), “I’ve received an email through work explaining that today is the most depressing day of the year.” I countered with the standard retort that “every day is the worst day of the year if you’re going to work,” but she appeared non-plussed by this revelation.
The 3rd Monday
It transpires that Blue Monday falls on the third Monday in January, which this year was the 17th (just gone). So you’re safe. It is defined by an ‘equation’ which takes into account Weather, Travel, Delays, Finances, Christmas, Failed New Year’s resolutions, Lack of recreational drugs, Tottenham Hotspur’s home record, Tottenham Hotspur’s away record etc. but most people who know about these things call it a load of old ‘hokum’ or pseudoscience.
Blue Monday – A Legitimate Mathematical Equation or Pseudoscience?
Anyway, we were just talking about pseudoscience and Blue Monday by New Order when I said, “How does it feel?” Vikki said, “How does what feel?” To which I replied. “To treat me like you do.” She looked perplexed. “What are you warbling on about now?” Then I tried to impersonate the synth opening riff to New Order’s Blue Monday and sing like Bernard Sumner. “I thought I was mistaken!” I cried at full volume. “I thought I heard your words. Tell me, how do you feel, tell me how how do you feel?” She sighed. “Are you going to do this all day?” she said, with levels of disdain I thought were somewhat unnecessary.
How Does It Feel?
Router
Then, because I presume it was Blue Monday, the Wi-Fi router ‘went down’. Just went offline right in the middle of Googling the lyrics to Blue Monday by New Order. The irony of this is when the router is connected to the internet, it shows a steady blue light but when it cannot connect to said web, it goes orange. So now it was Orange Monday (or Wednesday, if that’s still a thing). I tried a number of highly technical network reconfigurations to re-avail us of online communication to the outside world, which consisted of switching the router off and on again. But nothing worked. All hope was lost. The router stayed orange and refused to go any further.
Orange is the new blue
Using my mobile I contacted BT’s fault checking system, plugged in my phone number and post code. A fault has been detected on your line, it said. First reported at 9.27. anticipated resolution time 17.35. I explained this to Vikki and suddenly a cold, icy chill enveloped us in its frostbitten, wintery tentacles. “Is the back door open?” I asked. “No,” she said. “I think the heating has gone off.”
And then that’s when the enormity of our situation hit me. We have Hive!
Hot Stuff
Hive
Now, for those who don’t have Hive, you really should, except when you don’t have an internet connection. Hive is all about flexible management of your heating and water system. Basically you get a thermostat which you can move around the house (good) i.e. it’s not fixed to a wall, and you get an app (really good) so you can control your heating even when you’re at the pub (very good). The problem occurs when you don’t have an internet connection. That’s when your whole world and what was once a ‘smart’ home, comes grinding to a halt. Because when you go to the app it just says (in a friendly but ultimately useless manner) “Your hub doesn’t appear to be connected to the network. Let’s do some simple diagnostics and get you up and running” (or words to that effect). Yes. Let’s.
Of course, I’m no techie (not anymore anyway) but I reckon the diagnostics, simple or complex as they may be, will only ever determine that the router is offline (but of course we already know that). So I didn’t bother with ‘simple diagnostics’. But then, just after my teeth started chattering and I thought I was slipping away due to extreme hypothermia brought about by the heating being off for about 5 minutes, my life took a turn for the worse.
Melitta
I began to panic when I realised the coffee machine is on the internet too. I bought this Melitta a couple of years ago. It has an app and it makes coffee and it’s flash and everything because you just dial in your hot beverage of choice on your phone and it appears from the machine as if by magic. But now it wasn’t so flash after all.
I can’t make coffee without an internet connection.
Vikki said, “Ok, so you can’t use the app, so why don’t you just use the buttons on the front?”
I was horrified. “What, like normal people?” I asked.
“Yes, like normal people.”
I shook my head. “You don’t seem to understand. My life is falling apart, it’s all BT’s fault and all you can say is “Make your coffee manually”?”
“Well, can’t you?” she asked.
I thought about it. “I suppose – but that’s not the point!”
Flaky
“No, it never is,” she said. “Anyway, are you sure you can’t use the heating system at all if you don’t have an internet connection? It seems a bit flaky.”
And then I remembered. “I love you,” I said enthusiastically. “You are a wonder of modern thinking.”
“I’m sure I am. So, have you just remembered how to fix the heating?” she asked.
“No. It’s more important than that. The coffee machine. It’s not on Wi-Fi. It connects via Bluetooth.”
“Which means?” she asked.
“Which means I can use the app,” I said.
“Well, thank God for that,” she said with just a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “I won’t need to utter ancient supplications to the Coffee Gods then.”
And then, enthused by the coffee revelation, I Googled “Hive” and discovered that I could use the thermostat instead of the app to control the heating if the hub was ‘offline’. So we could heat the house after all. And so, all my 1st World problems were averted and I could breathe again and take off the four jumpers and eight pairs of trousers I’d put on earlier.
Has it warmed up in here yet?
Then, about ten minutes later the router came back online and everything went back to normal. I could’ve cried but I was too busy making a Latte Macchiato with sprinkles to concern myself with emotional outpourings. Well, there’s no point overreacting to minor issues in the home, is there.
And that was my Blue Monday, which was quite blue for a while. I hope yours was better.
Morality
And the moral of the story? Always have a “Plan B” even if it is only a kettle and a jar of mouldy Nescafe. You never know when it might be your redemption.
Of course it would be remiss of me not to mention mental health when discussing the most depressing day of the year. It doesn’t follow that Blue Monday is the only day when it’s acceptable to suffer with depression but it’s worth remembering that if you do struggle, then there really is always someone you can talk to. Like me.
In London during 1965, two unknown American folk singers met and recorded an album of rare beauty. One of the musicians, Paul Simon, went on to become a global superstar as one half of Simon & Garfunkel. The other, Jackson C Frank died penniless and in obscurity, haunted by a lifetime of disasters, poor decisions and just pure, bad luck. This is his story.
I didn’t know who Jackson C Frank was until a couple of years ago, when Vikki was asked to sing in a ‘Tribute to Sandy Denny’ concert. So, you’ve not heard of Sandy Denny either then? Well, I’m not overly surprised. Both Frank and Denny (no, not the restaurant chain) were famous on the folk music circuit from the mid 60’s to early 70’s but never achieved mainstream commercial success.
Sandy, can’t you see?
So, Vikki was asked to sing in a tribute show and suddenly I began delving into a surprisingly murky world of 60’s folk music. I knew of Sandy Denny, not because she was the lead singer of Fairport Convention but because she’d famously out-sung Robert Plant on the Led Zeppelin track, The Battle of Evermore, from the 1971 album Led Zeppelin IV (aka Four Symbols).
The Battle of Evermore – Led Zeppelin ft. Sandy Denny
I discovered Denny had a brief and tumultuous relationship with someone called Jackson C Frank in the 60’s. And so, I began to uncover the sad tale of Jackson C Frank.
Sandy Denny and Led Zeppelin were good friends before they were famous
Cleveland Hill School
Jackson C Frank was born in March 1943 in Buffalo, New York. He had a fairly ordinary upbringing until he was eleven years old when in a single moment his life changed forever. Sound dramatic? It is. He and his classmates were at school one day sitting in a music lesson, when a furnace located in the basement directly below the classroom, exploded, killing fifteen of his friends, including his then girlfriend Marlene Du Pont.
Marlene Du Pont was the subject of Frank’s song “Marlene”.
And though the fire had burned her life out
It left me little more
I am a crippled singer
And it evens up the score, Marlene
Frank suffered burns to over 50% of his body. The trauma from the episode damaged his thyroid which in turn caused weight gain and a build-up of calcium in his body, causing extensive joint problems throughout his life. And that’s only the beginning.
Elvis
He spent months in hospital recovering and when a school teacher gave him a guitar to occupy him during his convalescence, he found something he could put his mind and energy to. His hero was Elvis and in 1957 his mother took him to Graceland where he got to meet his idol and have his picture taken with “The King”.
A 14 year-old Jackson C Frank with “The King”, three years after the school fire and clearly still recovering.
Take a boat to England baby
He spent time crafting his guitar style and writing folk songs until he was 21, when he received an insurance pay-out for the accident which had scarred him both physically and mentally, ten years previously. The amount he received was $110,000 which was more than enough for him to travel to the UK where he met with many UK folk scene luminaries, including Sandy Denny with whom he had a relationship. It was he who convinced her to give up her job as a nurse and concentrate on her singing career.
Sandy Denny – one of Britain’s great singers but like Frank lived a troubled life10
Pentangle guitarist John Renbourn met him when Frank’s girlfriend, Sandy Denny, brought him along to Les Cousins folk club on Greek Street in London: “He told me he came from Buffalo and that it was a good place to come from. And then started to tell me that he’d been in a fire.”
John Renbourn – The Guardian
Paul Simon
Also in the UK was fellow ex-pat Paul Simon, still relatively unknown (although he had recorded one album as the duo Simon and Garfunkel which hadn’t sold well). When he heard Frank play and sing he was sure he was onto something and convinced Jackson to record his songs. This they did, in six hours at the CBS recording studios in New Bond Street, London. The result is a number of evocative pieces, with additional guitar from Paul Simon and Al Stewart.
Paul Simon wangled some studio time for Frank, which he duly accepted.
The album, Jackson C Frank sold relatively well and songs such as Blues Run The Game, the haunting Milk & Honey, My Name Is Carnival and Dialogue (I Want To Be Alone) really should have set him up for a long career in music, but his psychological issues began to manifest themselves and sometime later he entered hospital for evaluation. Around the same time he started to struggle with writer’s block and also his insurance money began to run out. Under increasing pressure, Frank decided to return to the US.
Jackson C Frank album cover.
Woodstock
Now living in Woodstock, New York (yes, that one) he continued singing but he became troubled by his past and he spiralled in and out of depression. He was wrongly diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia when indeed he really suffered with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and so his ongoing treatment caused him further psychological damage.
Jackson C Frank never escaped the guilt and shame of surviving the school fire
London Again
He returned to London in 1968 but a number of changes had occurred in the interim. One was the folk scene had moved on and changed dramatically in the UK. Bob Dylan had invented electric folk and suddenly Jackson C Frank felt like an outsider. The second change was in Frank himself. His psychological issues had affected him more than he had appreciated. Gone was the quiet, shy singer with the beautiful voice and extraordinary guitar style and its place was an angry, frustrated man of rage and bitterness. Al Stewart (of The Year of The Cat fame) met up with him:-
He proceeded to fall apart before our very eyes. His style that everyone loved was melancholy, very tuneful things. He started doing things that were completely impenetrable. They were basically about psychological angst, played at full volume with lots of thrashing. I don’t remember a single word of them – it just did not work. There was one review that said he belonged on a psychologist’s couch. Then shortly after that, he hightailed it back to Woodstock again, because he wasn’t getting any work.
Al Stewart – Wikipedia
Woodstock
Back in Woodstock his life briefly took a turn for the better when he married Elaine Sedgwick, an English model and actress who had met through the UK folk scene. They had a child, a boy and for a while Frank’s life seemed to be coming together, until the child died of Cystic Fybrosis. Frank’s turmoil returned, the marriage ended in divorce and Frank was alone again once more.
Elaine and Jack in happier times
In the 70s, Pentangle guitarist John Renbourn was in Woodstock shortly after receiving a letter from Frank, and tried to trace him by describing him to friends.
“I was told there was a guy who was odd, even by Woodstock standards, who went around looking at traffic lights.”
John Renbourn – The Guardian
It was Frank, but aside from a brief phone conversation the two friends didn’t meet.
Buffalo
He returned to Buffalo to live with his parents and stayed for a few years, until his mother went into hospital for heart surgery. When she returned home Frank was gone. No note, no forwarding address, he had just disappeared. And nobody saw him again. For ten years. It transpired he’d had a brain wave. That he would hitch hike to New York City, meet up with his old pals Simon & Garfunkel (who were now global superstars) and ask them to help get his career back on track.
Could Simon & Garfunkel have helped propel Frank into the big time?
The meeting never took place and Frank was forced to sleep rough for a few nights while he waited for Paul Simon to appear. A few days became a few weeks, which became a few months and then ten years had passed. Illness had ravaged his body, his psychological issues meant he couldn’t work, he was obese because of his thyroid issue and struggling to survive.
Jim Abbott
Until fan Jim Abbott tracked him down and offered to help him by re-releasing his album.
When I went down I hadn’t seen a picture of him, except for his album cover. Then, he was thin and young. When I went to see him, there was this heavy guy hobbling down the street, and I thought, ‘That can’t possibly be him’…I just stopped and said ‘Jackson?’ and it was him. My impression was, ‘Oh my God’, it was almost like the elephant man or something. He was so unkempt, dishevelled.”
Jim Abbott
Air Rifle
Whilst waiting at a bus stop in Queens a street gang started firing an air rifle indiscriminately at people in the street. A pellet hit Frank in the face and he was permanently blinded in one eye.
Frank, ravaged by time, blinded by fools.
Abbott helped him move back to Woodstock where he began writing and recording once more but in 1999 his underlying health conditions caught up with Jackson C Frank and tragedy struck for the final time. He contracted pneumonia, the complications of which resulted in a cardiac arrest. Frank died a day after his 56th birthday.
The Joker
A few weeks after reading Jackson C Frank’s story, I found myself sitting in a comfy sofa at The Everyman Cinema in Chelmsford, watching a film I wasn’t overly keen to be watching. It was called The Joker and starred Joaquin Phoenix as The Joker.11
The Joker – surprisingly good
And a short way into the film The Joker is having a therapy session when he mentions a song he heard on the radio, “where the guy singing was called ‘Carnival’.” He explains it was his stage name as a clown. And then the song “My Name Is Carnival” begins and it’s that unmistakeable tone of Jackson C Frank singing and I was sitting in the cinema welling up because of the story I’d just discovered and here he was, 20 years after his death, and 40 years after finding himself, penniless, destitute and homeless on the streets of New York, his song playing out in a Hollywood blockbuster. Fate played him a cruel hand but as the man said, Blues Run The Game.
Is The Joker a metaphor for the life of Jackson C Frank?
Consideration
This has been a difficult piece for me to write, purely because of the emotional strain it put me under researching the details of the story. I spent some time considering whether or not to post it but I decided I would for a number of reasons. 1.) To tell the story and to make people aware of the musical genius of Jackson C Frank. 2.) To remind people that your life and the specifics within it, can be taken away without notice, at any time. Nothing is certain. 3.) Not everyone on the street is a scrounger, malingerer, mumper or a slacker.
So, the next time you’re stepping over the prostrate body of a homeless person at Liverpool Street Station (as I have done) remind yourself that you may have been listening to their album recently and perhaps they really do have nowhere else to go.
You’d think you just use a One4All Gift Card like any other Gift Card wouldn’t you? Except it really isn’t that simple. It’s so difficult in fact, it’s almost as if they don’t want you to use it.
I ‘ve not seen One4All Gift Cards before and I hope never to see one ever again. The pain of using it is just too much to bear for someone of my fragile mindset. But use it I did and I jumped through hoops and clambered over obstacles to get there. It’s like the SAS Selection equivalent of e-vouchers. If such a thing exists.
Carrying a 50 kilo Bergen across the Brecon Beacons is easier than trying to spend a One4All Gift Card
Amazon
Vikki and I received a One4All Gift Card each for Christmas and a very nice present it was too. The great thing about it is you can use it in any number of shops and online retailers (theoretically anyway). Currys, Argos, M&S, Wagamama, you name it, it’s on the list. So, I thought I’d better use….
“Can you use it on Amazon?”
“What?”
“Can you use it on Amazon?”
“No, I don’t think so why?”
“You said, you name it, it’s on there. So I named Amazon.”
“Well, it’s a figure of speech, it’s not supposed to be taken literally.”
“So you literally can’t name it and it’s on there then….literally speaking.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Well, thanks for clearing that up. Carry on.”
Anyway, I thought I better use these ‘bad boys’ before they get shoved in a drawer and lost or forgotten about altogether. After all, there was £40 burning a hole in my online pocket.
Maldon
Also for Christmas Vikki got a DVD of a really old film called Riding High starring the famous stunt rider Eddie Kidd. Remember him? No? Ok then. The reason Vikki got the DVD was a.) I bought it for her and b.) because the big climax of the film was shot in Maldon, where we live. And no, it’s not a load of cheap rubbish, it’s got Irene Handl in it.
Is this not the perfect present for any woman?
Idiot Boy Beeching
Many years ago Maldon had two railway stations: Maldon East and Maldon West and across the River Blackwater was a railway viaduct. After idiot boy Beeching closed all the railways in the 60’s to save himself £20 a year on servicing costs, the bridge fell into disrepair and collapsed, leaving an 80 foot gap which is what Eddie Kidd jumped on his Yamaha back in 1979.
Eddie Kidd jumps the Maldon Viaduct (1979)
So, I bought this DVD online for Vikki but we had a slight problem. My DVD player is so old it only has a Scart connecion, not HDMI. And my telly is so new it only has HDMI, not Scart. So, it’s a bit like me speaking in English to someone who only understands Korean. That was an analogy by the way and not a very good one.
Speaking in tongues
21st Century Technology
So, I thought I’ll buy a Scart/HDMI converter. Well, that’s more difficult than it sounds but you can get them. In the end I decided to bite the bullet and upgrade the DVD player to one that was built in the current century. And this is where everything started to unravel.
How my ‘Heath Robinson’ Scart DVD Player works
After scouring the web for HDMI DVD players, with Blu-Ray, 4K, HD upscaling, region free, blah blah blah, I found an LG which was only about £60. Result I thought. Yes, it is. If you can buy it.
Eventually I discovered one at Currys which I could pick up in Chelmsford, so I decided to buy it. I should’ve known better. Every time I use Currys anything I want is ‘currently out of stock‘, and every time I try to buy something from Argos it is also ‘currently out of stock but available for pick up in our Weymouth branch‘.
Weymouth. Despite the pleasing vista, a 350 mile round trip to pick up a DVD Player is a little too far for me
Now, the One4All card states it is a “Gift Card” but can you use it online? No. What you have to do (after you’ve spent half an hour trying to use it as a gift card and getting nothing but errors on the payment page) is you have to go onto the One4All website and convert it to a Gift Card or an eGift.
It looks like a gift card, it says it’s a gift card but is it a gift card? I have no idea.
Cookies & Cash
Then you can convert it to, in this instance, a Currys Gift Card and then you’re supposed to just type in the gift card details on your payment page and off you go. But it’s not that simple. And the reason it’s not that simple? Because of something called Cookies and Cache. What they do is hold information locally (on your phone, laptop etc.) of the page you just visited. To speed things up (allegedly). So, if there’s an error on the page you just visited, it reloads the error for you. Hmm, so not so good then.
Cookies. Get these on your hard drive and you’ll know about it.
Because if you go back to your payment page and it is stating your last payment failed (because you were using a Gift Card that wasn’t a Gift Card) then you won’t get any further. It just says ‘payment declined’ or even better ‘we’re unable to process gift cards right now. Please try later’. So, I closed the page down, reloaded it and went back. Nope. The same error messages appeared. So I logged out of my Currys account, logged back in and guess what? It still didn’t work.
Variant
By now of course the laptop had been aimed out of the window and the man next door had reported a ‘domestic incident’ to the local constabulary. So, when I went to retrieve the laptop from the front garden (after an hour of Buddhist Meditation), he was able to pacify the ‘boys in blue’ and explain the mistake. “I’m not surprised,” the Detective Inspector said, removing the handcuffs. “The data we have is that the “One4All Variant” is causing greater disharmony across the UK than “Omicron” at present.”12
Boris Johnson details UK lockdown measures due to the “One4All” Variant
Computer says ‘No’
After the police had left I discovered what I had to do was close down Google Chrome (or MS Edge) which flushed the Cache (deleted it), then I went back to Currys, bought the flaming DVD player again, and then and only then, did the payment system deem me worthy of purchasing a product on its holiest of holy site.
It’s almost as if…well, you know.
Me, on the Currys website (yes, I do need a haircut)
So, my advice to anyone who has an One4All Gift Card is this:- Either a.) throw it in the bin and pretend you never received it, b.) ask to have it replaced with an Amazon Card, or c.) bring it round here and I’ll spend it for you, because I know about Cookies and Cache.
And, it transpires (brace yourself for the word play) if you’ve got the wrong cache then the right cash is worthless.
With the “Get Back” Documentary released on Disney+ a few weeks back, I took a look over the 13 official Beatles studio albums to rank them in order of preference (for me). The albums listed below are UK, studio albums only, in release date order.
Please Please Me – 22/3/63
Beatles For Sale – 22/11/63
A Hard Days Night – 10/7/64
With The Beatles – 4/12/64
Help! – 6/8/65
Rubber Soul – 3/12/65
Revolver – 5/8/66
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band – 26/5/67
Magical Mystery Tour – 27/11/67
The Beatles (White Album) – 22/11/68
Yellow Submarine – 13/1/69
Abbey Road – 26/9/69
Let It Be – 8/5/70
And this is the order I put them in, in order of preference:-
1. Abbey Road
McCartney has no shoes on. Hmm, must be dead then…
Is this not one of the greatest albums of all time? I find it difficult to fault it on any level. From the iconic cover, to the conspiracy theories13, to the 17 tracks.
The Ballad of John & Yoko didn’t make it on to Abbey Road
There are 11 tracks on Side 2, most of which form a medley, the last being called The End which in a turn of poetic irony, was the last track The Beatles recorded together. On top of that it includes two of George Harrison’s best compositions in Here Comes The Sun and Something. Lennon had left the group by the time the album was released although much like McCartney’s apparent death, nobody but the band knew.
2. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
The band Salt ‘n’ Pepa would not form for another 18 years, so we listened to this instead.
Is this not one of the greatest albums of all time (what, another one?) Again, an iconic cover and an album flooded with songs from every genre and every spectrum; even dare I say it, Harrison’s Within You, Without You, which for me shouldn’t be on a pop record. It belongs somewhere else, Sitar or no Sitar.
Penny Lane didn’t make the cut for Sgt. Pepper
The title, said McCartney, came from a misheard conversation on a plane when he thought their roadie Mal Evans, had asked for Sergeant Pepper and not ‘salt and pepper’, and as a result, the concept album was born. From then, the seed of an idea surrounding a fictional band started to take shape.
3. Revolver
The Beatles were first to use realistic moving eyes, long before Action Man ‘invented’ Eagle Eyes
Is this not one…ok yes, I’ve done that already. Anyway, it really is another top album. To be honest, it could take the top spot in this list purely because it includes the greatest Beatles track of all time, Tomorrow Never Knows. This is where The Beatles decided to invent Psychedelia and Sampling all at the same time.
Paperback Writer didn’t make it…well you know the drill by now
Loads of tape looped sounds open the track14 and then Lennon’s voice, ‘like a thousand chanting monks on top of a mountain’, utters the immortal phrase:-
"Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream"
If this is not The Beatles at the height of their mystical powers, I don’t know what is (apart from the other two albums I’ve already mentioned).
It also includes Yellow Submarine, Taxman, and Eleanor Rigby, the latter including no musical input from The Beatles.
4. The Beatles (aka The White Album)
Shiny white cover and not much else…until you play the album
This sprawling mass of music came out of a trip to India to meet the Maharishi Yogi, who it transpired wasn’t as holy and godlike as he had first appeared15. However, it gave The Beatles the chance to write vividly albeit independently of each other. The ‘concept’ here was to release an album with absolutely no information on the sleeve. The only clue is the embossed The Beatles on the front cover.
Lady Madonna
A double album, it’s highlights include, Back In The U.S.S.R, Dear Prudence, Glass Onion and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, and that’s just the first four tracks. Elsewhere it features Sexy Sadie, Lennon’s take on the Maharishi, Harrison’s While My Guitar Gently Weeps, and the nonsense that is Revolution 9.
5. Rubber Soul
The Beatles were clearly long-haired layabouts.
Another wonder of an album where it’s difficult finding a duff track. Here you’ll find all sorts once more, from Drive My Car, the album opener, to Norwegian Wood (where Lennon discusses an amorous affair).16
We Can Work It Out
Other wonders on here are Nowhere Man, The Word, Girl and Michelle.
6. A Hard Days Night
As a 4-year-old, I was fascinated by this album cover
The only Beatles album to contain Lennon/McCartney songs only, the album was written as the soundtrack to the bands first feature film. My Dad had the album, so I played it a lot when I was young (I still have it). The film had been shot and most of the soundtrack had been written but they had no title or corresponding song until Ringo, on discussing the long hours they were working and not being sure what time it was said, “It’s been a hard day… er…night!” and suddenly the film had a title.
Film intro – George & Ringo take a fall
Lennon went home later, wrote the song in the evening, came into the studio the next day and within three hours the song was finished. George Martin decided to add “the most famous chord in popular music history” onto the beginning of the song as the striking sound would open the film and the album. It’s not a particularly easy chord to reproduce as it requires three guitars, a bass, a piano and drums…to do it properly. Other excellent songs include Tell Me Why, Can’t Buy Me Love, Any Time At All and You Can’t Do That.
7. Magical Mystery Tour
They are the Egg Men
McCartney came up with the idea to make a film without a story or script (never a good idea) then add music to it. The resulting film suggested The Beatles should have stuck to song-writing but Paul would revisit this open-ended, flexible approach for the Let It Be album (and we all know how that turned out).
Hello, Goodye
However, if the film was a messy confusion of ideas, the accompanying musical release was even worse. A six-track double EP was released in the UK with an 11 track album in the USA. The album consisted of singles releases from 1967. The LP wasn’t released in its entirety in the UK until 1976 and includes the following standout tracks:- Magical Mystery Tour, The Fool On The Hill, I Am The Walrus, Hello Goodbye, Penny Lane, and All You Need Is Love.
8. Help!
Sadly The Beatles are not spelling out the word “Help” in semaphore
Another soundtrack album but The Beatles weren’t in control of the film on this one thankfully. Until now they had always added a few songs in from their Hamburg Club days and this album is no exception But the song Help! does include the first reference to depression, fear and anxiety in popular music culture.
Ticket To Ride
Lennon thought the fame, fortune, money, and honours that came with being a pop star were out of proportion with how he viewed himself as a person. The album also includes Yesterday, a big departure from full on pop music for The Beatles at the time. Yesterday has become the most covered song in history with around 500 recorded covers. The album also includes Ticket To Ride and You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away.
9. Let It Be
Apart from George temporarily leaving the band, they appeared to enjoy making this album
Not a favourite with Beatles aficionados, mainly it seems because Lennon gave the recordings to Phil “wall of sound” Spector to Produce. Having said all that, Spector wasn’t given much direction in what the band wanted, since the band couldn’t decide.
On the 7th January 1969, this song didn’t exist. Here it is on the 30th.
The acrimony between them meant none of them would agree with the other, on principle. However, it does include McCartney’s Let It Be, which is ironic as he spent most of the recording sessions not ‘letting it be’ at all.17 In the ‘Get Back’ documentary, he can be seen stressing over every tiny detail of songs, arrangements and practice, and stressing out the rest of the band in the process.
The album also includes highlights such as Across The Universe, The Long & Winding Road and Get Back.
10. Please Please Me
The debut album, replete with image taken at EMI House
The debut Beatles album opens with McCartney counting the band in, “1,2,3,4…” and they fly into “I Saw Her Standing There”. The album also includes the first two singles Love Me Do and Please Please Me. Both include the signature early Beatles harmonica sound by John Lennon. The second track, Misery was written by Lennon and McCartney for Helen Shapiro, with whom they were touring. She turned it down. They went on to global stardom and Helen, well…
She Loves You
Not often mentioned regarding this album is the Lennon track “There’s A Place” which includes the lyrics “There’s a place I can go, when I feel low, and it’s my mind.” These days it’s a reference to psychological issues but in 1963 it was considered to be a song that meant nothing more than ‘thinking about stuff’. How times have changed. The album closes with Twist and Shout which was recorded as the final song of the session in one take, as Lennon lost his voice after recording it.
11. Beatles For Sale
Mean, Moody, Magnificent!
The fourth release in the Beatles catalogue comes in at No. 11. It included the standard ‘standards’ but little gems such as I’ll Follow The Sun‘ which McCartney had written as a 16 year old, after a bout of the flu. The album also boasts Eight Days A Week and Every Little Thing; pointers to the more sophisticated direction they were taking.
I Feel Fine
12. With The Beatles
Black & White but visually stunning
The follow up album to the Please Please Me debut, With The Beatles included 6 covers and the first recorded George Harrison composition (Don’t Bother Me). Two covers, Please, Mr Postman and Money became big hits when recorded much later by The Carpenters and The Flying Lizards respectively.
I Want To Hold Your Hand
The album also included All My Loving, which was not a single but was released on an EP instead.
13. Yellow Submarine
Much like the film, the album can be hard work
Yellow submarine is an oddity all on its own. Not an album as such, nor a film soundtrack, it’s sort of a bit of both but not really very much of either. It’s not even a Beatles album either, since half of it is a film score written by George Martin. It featured the title track (albeit the song had already been released on the Revolver album), All You Need Is Love, Hey Bulldog (complete with barking Beatles) and the wonderful psychedelic It’s All Too Much, written by George Harrison (under the influence of LSD). It’s a song which returns to the musical theme of Tomorrow Never Knows; wide, expansive with droning chords and mystical chanting.
Hey Jude
So, there you go. The 13, ranked. I did look at another site which had also ranked the albums. They had Revolver at No.1 and Yellow Submarine at No. 13. So not totally different. It’s not the easiest thing to do because I like them all in some way or another. And if you haven’t heard all the albums that much, then what are you waiting for?
In Part 1, (which you can find here Pushing Away…Part 1) I detailed 5 things you may want to consider putting into practice, should the unthinkable happen and depression comes knocking at your door. Here are 5 more, like exercise and my personal favourite, being judgemental.
6. Exercise
If, as in Item 4 in Part 1 (Get Out) you do decide to take some air, then while you’re there you may want try to do a bit of exercise. If you’re anything like me then that would be something like taking the dogs for a walk for about a minute, trudging really slowly all the time, whilst eating chocolate. This is not a good form of exercise unless you want to exercise those aspects of your alimentary canal that turns food to fat. If that is your goal, then this is the perfect kind of exercise for that.
Don’t take any notice of all that rubbish Doctors spout about doing at least twenty minutes exercise, three times per week. Doing that is already putting pressure on yourself that you really don’t need right now. Start small, by doing something, even if it is a one-minute trudge with a Crunchie in your gob. It’s a start. Maybe tomorrow it’ll be two minutes with a large slice of Battenburg between your fingers. Maybe one day you’ll dispense with the sugary treats for a day too. It’s all possible.
Should Crunchies be part of your 5-a-day?
7. See People
During your regular forays outdoors (by regular I mean once a quarter) you could consider seeing friends and family. It is really amazing what a difference a brief chat with some friends can have on your overall demeanour. It won’t make a permanent difference but all these things are what the Sky Pro Cycling Team might have referred to as marginal gains. You may not see an improvement from any of them in isolation but put them together and you’ll have no need for EPO or WADA banned asthma inhalers or even jiffy bags brought to you by couriers with no knowledge of their contents.
The Sky Train – never knowingly uses couriers of questionable moral integrity
The thing I discovered was my outlook would improve while I was out but as soon as I returned home it was as if the evil spectre of depression was waiting at the door for me and I would swiftly return to my previous sombre self. The point wasn’t to expect to beat the depression in one fell swoop. Rather, it was to reduce its negative impact one step at a time. Chip away at it. Seeing people who had an idea of my condition and were compassionate in their feelings towards it, was of great benefit. Be selective about who you see. A misplaced word or negative attitude put me back weeks.
8. Diet
This is not so much about taking up the keto diet, or becoming a vegan, vegetarian or even a flexitarian. This is about taking note of the type of things you are eating every day. I piled on the pounds when I was in the deep throes of depression. I was eating all the rubbish I could get my hands on because I could, I didn’t care and because I was punishing myself. Many people find depression causes a loss of weight due to a distinct lack of appetite. Unfortunately for me that didn’t occur, but the message is the same.
You still need to be vigilant to the vitamins and minerals you are getting from the food you eat, and the usual story regarding vegetables is always a good place to start. I’d give fruit a miss because its full of sugar (and no, natural sugar isn’t ok).
A medium sized apple contains 25 grams of sugar. A can of Coke contains 35 grams.18Coke evil. Apple good. Coke evil. Apple good. Coke evil…
But be aware that you are literally feeding your depression by shoving that Crunchie down your throat, because vitamin and mineral depleted foods can lead to weight gain/loss, whichever is your enemy, and that gives you further licence to hate yourself, and while your doing that your depression is sitting back, metaphorically rubbing its hands with glee and saying joyfully, “You’re making this too easy for me!”
9. Communication
This is where you stop imagining everyone else is a mind reader and you start talking to people rather than hoping they know how you feel and what you need, naturally by osmosis. I found most people to be very supportive towards me, but I did also recognise that banging on about it 24/7 can be a little tiresome for others. You want people to want to help you, or at least understand your condition, not think, “Oh shit, here he comes again, it’s enough to make me depressed the way he goes on about it.” By the same token it helps no one, least of all yourself, if you suffer in silence. It’s about finding a balance between silent martyrdom and constant prattling.
Oh dear
10. Judgement
Being judgemental is effectively feeding your already overweight, negative mental attitude with a big, fat, unhealthy lunch, followed by a large gut-busting dessert, then nipping down the road for dinner at an all-you-can-eat burger joint. Which is the last thing you need when you’re depressed. It’s like entering a hopping race when you’ve just broken both legs. Judgemental people (like me) tend to have an overblown opinion on something or someone which in itself is okay, except that it tends to a.) carry with it negative connotations and b.) is usually based upon incomplete knowledge, which is not okay.
First Dates
Item 5, in Part 1, about Lena Martell, is me being judgemental, although I do have a fairly good knowledge of music so I would probably argue that it’s nothing more than a very robust opinion based upon information I have accrued over a number of years. The facts are, most of us are judgemental most of the time. Every time I watch something like First Dates on Channel Four and I see someone to whom I don’t naturally or immediately warm to, I start to think, ‘Well he’s and idiot,’ or ‘She’s a bit full of herself,’ and stuff like that.
Get your judgemental hat on – it’s First Dates
Then they get to tell you their back story and if they open up about their vulnerabilities or the issues they’ve suffered due to say, a difficult upbringing, then I start to think, ‘Well considering what he’s been through he’s actually turned out okay,’ or, ‘I’m not surprised she’s putting the barriers up, if that’s the kind of life she’s had.’
Jumping
There I was being all judgemental, jumping to conclusions without knowing all the facts and I catch myself doing this constantly, so I do what I can to stop it happening too regularly. Vikki, my wife, might say to me, “Well that’s a very judgemental thing to say,” and initially I’ll go on the defensive and look for ways to back up my statement but then I’ll stop and think for a moment or two and come to the conclusion that I had made an uninformed statement based on limited knowledge or information.
So, it’s quite possible you’ll see someone in the street, or in a bar somewhere and you’ll immediately think ‘What a freaking weirdo,’ and you might be right, based upon the generic westernised society definition of what a ‘freaking weirdo’ is. But do you know why the person is the way they are? It’s highly unlikely you have any idea, if you just saw them for the first time. If you’ve already decided you don’t like them based upon the way they appear to you, then you’re being judgemental.
The Cycle Of Negativity
But what has being judgemental got to do with depression, you might ask? Well, being judgemental feeds a negative attitude and depression feeds on negativity. It has a voracious appetite for all things negative. In fact, it loves negativity so much that if there’s none to be had, it invents some for it to feed upon. And when it invents some, it’s called being judgemental.
Negative thoughts create negative feelings, which create negative behaviour, which creates negative thoughts, which create negative feelings, which…
I can remember being on a training course many years ago at a converted Stately Home, west of London. Everyone on the course was staying at a hotel near Heathrow and there was one chap on the course who I decided I didn’t like. He had bad skin and a funny shaped head. These were the main reasons I didn’t like him. He looked like the generic westernised society’s definition of a ‘freaking weirdo’, as far as I could tell. So, I decided he was. For this reason, I didn’t speak to him for the duration of the course.
ICL Beaumont, Old Windsor. I’d been to worse places for IT training
The Thing From The Planet Zog
On the last night, we all decided to meet in the hotel bar, have a few drinks, kick back and relax. This was all going very well to begin with. The people I had bonded with over the course of the week were all on good form and we were having a very good time. Then the unthinkable happened. We went to another bar and all the seating positions changed and I was stuck next to Mr Weirdy Pants and so “Bang!”, I put the barriers right up. I wasn’t having any of this nonsense, where I would have to talk to old banana head. So, I sat, or stood, I’m not sure, next to The Thing from the Planet Zog, resolutely ignored him and sipped my beer very quickly. But then it got worse.
Then “The Thing” spoke to me
He spoke to me. Can you imagine that? I was fuming. And I was outraged at what he said. He said something like, “So Lee, we haven’t spoken much this week, what do you do?” and his head was all wobbly and I could feel my skin crawling. Inwardly I sighed. I was angry, as now I was in this invidious position, where he’d asked me a perfectly reasonable question. So, I decided against my better judgement, to answer. I told him where I worked, what I did, the usual stuff. Then, the unthinkable happened again. We found ourselves agreeing with each other and then he mentioned he was very interested in film which, at the time, was one of my favourite subjects.
The Funny Shaped Head
What happened then was we got into this long discussion about Hollywood blockbusters, Film Noir, British film, Foreign Films, Classics, Black and White, Silent Comedy – the whole shebang. We were there hours and then suddenly it was 2am, the bar was closing and it was time to go and get some sleep. Never have I been so disappointed at not talking to someone sooner than I did. I was inwardly mortified that I hadn’t allowed myself to talk to this guy for longer. He’d been there all week and I hadn’t bothered and all because he had a funny shaped head.
So Lee, you seem like a perfectly reasonable chap….
Judgemental. It’s not all about you, you know.
Conclusion
So, in conclusion. the idea behind my shopping list wasn’t to do all of those things, every day without fail. That would have been impossible. It was primarily an aide memoire to remind me of the types of things that might assist in creating a positive mental attitude. I didn’t have a positive mental attitude most of the time. In fact, I had the opposite but I recognised, in my calmer moments, that a PMA was something which could help me get back to the promised land, and so I would occasionally scan the list and see if there was anything on there which caught my eye, then I’d try to implement it at some point during the day.
Pushing Away The Demons
Other days I’d look at the list and say with a scowl, “Well that’s not happening,” and that was the end of any positivity for that day. This then, is not for the days when it feels like depression has you in a headlock on the floor and is manoeuvring you into a half-nelson, it’s for those days when it leaves you alone for a few hours. You know the time, when you start feeling guilty that there’s nothing really wrong with you. Look at it then. It’s almost impossible to be positive when you’re depressed but having little reminders of positivity when your negativity levels are a little lower than usual, is one way to push away the demons. Even if at first, it’s only for a few minutes at a time, it all helps and it all adds up. The fact I’ve written this and you’re reading it, is proof it works, for some of us at least.
Thank you for your time. I hope you found some of this useful. If not, there’s always next time.
What better way to celebrate Christmas than to write a piece on Mental Health. Apparently, depression doesn’t take time off at Christmas so if you suffer with it, then I’m afraid you’re stuck with it. But all is not lost. Pushing away the demons is about managing depression in a meaningful way.
In the last piece I posted on Mental Health I focussed on the outside looking in, i.e. how someone without depression might assist someone who suffers with it. This piece is viewed from the opposite end of the telescope. From the inside looking out. How you might help yourself in ‘pushing away the demons’.
Which end of the telescope are you using?
Below is a shopping list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ I made a during a period of mental instability. It was a simple list of things I could do, or consider doing, should the pressure of depression become too much and I began to slip off the path towards redemption and better mental health. They were not written in any significant order, other than the order in which they came to me, but this is what I noted and tucked away for a rainy day. And trust me, I had some rainy days. Quite a lot of them, actually. So much so, rivers flooded, reservoirs were full and thoughts of a hosepipe ban were no more than a distant memory of years gone by.
Pushing away the demons doesn’t mean beating the illness, because an illness it is. It’s keeping it at arms length, at a manageable level, so you can live your life. None of the things on this list, either in isolation or collectively, will banish depression from your soul but they all help. And as you may know, even if you can keep it at bay just for a short while, that is a joyous thing in itself.
This then, is the “10”
Positivity
Do One
Transience
Out Out
One Day
Exercise
People
Diet
Communication
Judgement
Collectively I referred to them as ‘pushing away the demons’, hence the title. You can call them what you like. Anyway, let’s take a minute to study these in a little more detail because I think there’s something of use in here. If not, hopefully I’ll think of something amusing to say along the way. This might allay any fears that reading this is a complete waste of time.
Part 1 deals with items 1 – 5. Items 6 – 10 can be found in Part 2 which will be available very soon.
1. Stay Positive
It’s fairly self-explanatory this one but how do you do it? When you’ve got the death-chains wrapped around your neck and they’re getting tighter and heavier by the minute, it’s safe to say it’s going to be difficult to stay focused and also stay positive. But stay positive you must. The death-chains won’t be there forever. It’s your job to outlive the death chains even if they do keep you awake all night with their incessant rattling. Why doesn’t someone invent death-chains that are silent? Why do they have to clank about so much? Couldn’t they be made of foam for example, to aid restful sleep?
I’ve got a splitting headache and now I’ve got chains rattling in my head too. So no, I’m not feeling, as you English say, “chipper”
Of course, you cannot ‘stay positive’ when depression is blasting through your mind like a cyclone with anger management issues. But there are days, sometimes only hours, when your depression feels a little less overbearing than normal. And these are the little chinks of light, the tiny shoots of encouragement you can cling to to remind you of the brighter days ahead. We all know those moments won’t last forever and the black shroud of darkness will descend again soon. But until it does, enjoy it and try to remember it and remember that those moments will return, one day soon.
2. Do One Thing
I may have mentioned this in a previous piece but it’s worth mentioning it again because it’s quite important; at the beginning at least. The “do one thing” mantra is much like the five-minute rule and they could be linked. As in the “doing one thing” could last “five-minutes” therefore satisfying the criteria of both rules. The five-minute rule is choosing to do something, anything, for five minutes – that’s all.
This is what is called the double-whammy and if you’re considering having CBT sessions then prepare for some homework between sessions. If you have reached the point where self-help is something you’ve recognised as being beneficial to you, rather than the enemy within, then doing one thing a day is a good place to start. And it is simply that. Finding one thing to do…in a day, deciding what it will be and doing it. It’s not as easy as it might first appear but stick at it and it may become a regular feature of your life.
If depression gives you 5 minutes off, then take it
3. Feelings are Transient
Well yes, they are and we know that otherwise we’d all be in a state of permanent joy or constant anguish, but in those moments of doubt, when all you feel you can rely on to keep you company is the shitty British weather and its ability to throw cold, grey, twenty-four hour days at you for what seems like an eternity but is in reality only twenty-four-and-a-half hours a day, then your dark mood might just get the better of you.
What better way to deal with such angst than to let go of it sooner, rather than later? In dark times I embraced the hatred day after day. It was my best friend and perhaps the only thing I could truly rely on but at the same time it was soul destroying, not to mention exhausting. Hanging on to that level of negativity for days on end saps so much of your strength that, at the end of it, all you want to do is sleep. Save the sleeping for the grey days. If it’s warm, dry and sunny then try to enjoy the weather. Or just sit in it for a while.
If you’ve ever watched clouds drift across the sky and disappear, remember that’s what emotions do too. Even the bad ones
4. Get Out
This dovetails nicely with the last point. Getting out of doors and getting some sunshine works wonders for negative mood swings. It’s not easy to go out when all you really want to do is destroy yourself or other people, but you must try to remember, those thoughts and feelings are coming from another person and it’s not the real you that wants to do that. When every sinew of your mind and body is screaming at you ignore common sense and stay in your room in perpetual darkness, your job is to secretly undermine the messages you’re being fed from within. Your job is to demand of yourself the opposite of what you’re telling yourself you must do.
The sun provides lots of free Vitamin D. That means it’s even cheaper than Home Bargains
You might, as with other points here, need some external help from a friend, spouse or relative to ‘chivvy’ you along, but getting outside and seeing the sun, or just daylight, does a lot for lifting the spirits. It also means you’re changing your environment which is analogous to saying ‘a change is as good as a rest’. And, as a revered stand-up comedian might say, you don’t have to go ‘out out’, just out will do fine.
You could always go out out….
5. One Day At A Time
In 1979, there were a lot of changes occurring in the music industry in the UK. The tail end of punk was happening; the invention of New Wave had occurred and as a consequence Indie came into being. Ska and Bluebeat had begun to materialise from Reggae influences. On top of this, Heavy Metal had also made great strides forward too. Amongst this maelstrom of new genre activity, PYE Records (one-time home to Bowie, The Kinks and Donovan) released a single called “One Day At A Time” by Lena Martell. It was a dreadful, dirgy, Country/Gospel mashup written by Kris Kristofferson of all people.
This man is completely untrustworthy
Not only that but it reached number one in the UK charts and stayed there for a mind-boggling three weeks. Worse still, Top of the Pops (the UK’s only weekly music show, and supposedly for teenagers) took great delight in showing the maternal looking Lena warbling her little Scots head off, at every opportunity.
Lena Martell – clearly a pop superstar
Tubeway Army
“One day at a time sweet Jesus, that’s all I’m asking of you,” she went, and a nation’s disaffected youth yawned and growled “Good grief!” at the TV (or maybe they used more ‘colourful’ Anglo-Saxon adjectives). It became the tenth biggest selling single of 1979, outstripping “Message in a Bottle” by The Police and “Hit Me with your Rhythm Stick” by Ian Dury and the Blockheads, arguably two of the most influential singles of that year, along with “Are Friends Electric?” by Tubeway Army (later, just Gary Numan), the latter which ushered in the new, new wave of eighties synth, keyboard and drum machine inspired pop music.
“Are friends electric? Only, mine’s broke down and now I’ve no one to love.” I know how you feel Gary
I was just 19 at the time, had my own punk band, was attempting to write punk anthems (which on reflection weren’t anything of the sort) and I often wondered where all this ‘old ladies’ music came from and why it was clogging up the charts, which really should have been a bastion of youth culture.
Dr Hook were never bastions of youth culture but they replaced Lena Martell at the top spot with some equally dreadful (un)easy listening
Scarred
But now, when I look back at Good Old Lena and her pseudo religious claptrap, it’s viewed through the benefit of a mind scarred by life and depression (yes, I did say benefit), and I can see a lot of positive elements in it for people such as myself, who are able to admit they are not without issues; who can and will lean on others when times are hard and pickings are slim.
Here’s the chorus:-
“One day at a time sweet Jesus That’s all I’m asking of you Give me the strength to do every day What I have to do Yesterday’s gone sweet Jesus Tomorrow may never be mine Lord help me today show me the way One day at a time.”
Finding Your Way Back
With depression, taking one day at a time is as much as you can do. Focus on today and do whatever you can to find your way back to who you really are. Even if today you do nothing, that’s not all bad, it only becomes an issue when it becomes nothing every day, for months on end. If you need Jesus or The Lord to help you, then take comfort in that. If like me, you don’t subscribe to that point of view then that’s fine also. It’s whatever works for you, not others.
Thanks should be given to Kris Kristofferson and PYE records
When you find what works for you then you can truly begin to work some magic and start to come back home. One day at a time.19
So, head on over to Part 2 which covers the equally exciting items numbered 6 -10 on the shopping list.
What exactly is an “Immersive Experience” and how immersed can you get in it’s immersivity? I fully immersed myself to find the answer to this immersive question.
“No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own…”
H.G. Wells – The War of the Worlds
And so begins the story of The War Of TheWorlds by H.G. Wells. The Immersive Experience though is another matter entirely. It is billed as 5D multimedia which places you (yes, you!) in the heart of the action. So, if you’ve ever wondered what it might be like to wander the suburbs of Victorian London whilst under attack from Martian War Machines, then this most definitely is the place for you. And if you haven’t, it still might be the place for you anyway.
The book is cheaper than travelling into London but it doesn’t have a slide
It’s based in the City of London and takes about 2 hours to complete (although that does include a 20 minute stop off at the bar, which I don’t believe happened in the original).20 It includes Virtual Reality (VR), a slide (hurrah!), actors, sets, special effects, holograms, Martians and the music of Jeff Wayne. Oh, and darkness. Quite a lot of darkness in fact.
Leadenhall Street – on a Saturday it’s so quiet you’d think the Martians were coming. Oh wait…
City of London
The WotW IE is based at 56 Leadenhall Street, which is about a 10 minute walk from Liverpool Street Station. Basically, you wander down Bishopsgate until you reach Leadenhall Street, then you turn left. That’s it really. We were invited along by Vikki’s step-brother Giles and his wife Laura who gave us tickets as a gift. And what a gift it was too! They were going with friends and family so there were about 8 in our party. A maximum of 12 can go round the show at any time and the shows run every 20 minutes or so.
The Red Weed gets everywhere
So, what is an immersive experience and how is it 5D? Well, I’ll explain. You know the story War Of The Worlds by H.G. Wells? No. Ok, so you know the album Jeff Wayne’s War Of The Worlds then? You don’t? Have you seen the 2005 blockbuster War Of The Worlds starring Tom Cruise? You have? Great. Well, forget that, it’s nothing like it.
5th Dimension
Unfortunately I didn’t experience a “living in the 5th Dimension spiritual experience” and if I’m honest I would’ve known because I’ve already had one.21 But that’s not really part of this story (or is it?).
When you arrive, the first thing you have to do is sign your life away to ensure the owners aren’t inundated with fake insurance claims (have you had an injury at the War Of The Worlds that wasn’t your fault? call immersiveexperienceinjurylawyers4u now). Then you put all your personal belongings in a locker and you’re ready to go. There is a bar in the waiting area so if you’re early or nervous then you can always have a drink or two to calm your nerves.
Darling? The Martians have blown up the Bridge Club again!
The Eve of War
Once inside the ‘experience’ the actors lead you through the story and take you to your next destination. It starts with a little housekeeping i.e. what to do if you feel unwell, or if the Virtual Reality headsets aren’t working, stuff like that. Then you’re off into a little cinema where you meet Mr George and Carrie Herbert (or at least you get to meet their holograms because they don’t actually exist in physical form) who explain the beginning of the story.
The Eve Of War – Jeff Wayne, Justin Hayward & Richard Burton rock out
There is also music from the Jeff Wayne double album too, just to set the mood. Next you make your way down some dimly lit corridors to meet the astronomer Ogilvy who, despite his impressive intellect, is a bit of an old duffer. After all, he was the one who calculated “the chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one”. Yeah, and still they came. Then he got sizzled by a Martian heat ray, so that worked out well for him didn’t it. Personally I think the Martians overdid it with the heat ray gizmo but perhaps they preferred their dinner well-done because they feared the debilitating effects of Salmonella. But as it transpired, Salmonella shouldn’t have been their primary concern.
Horsell Common
So, now you’re part of the story, you’re in the story and you’re in the experience. The Immersive Experience. Are you feeling suitably immersed? Probably not. You know how it is. You had to be there.
In the original novel by H.G. Wells, all the initial action takes place in Woking, Surrey. On Horsell Common, to be precise. These days if you visit Woking you can see the occasional reference to the great man’s work.
A Martian Tripod Fighting Machine, a Cylinder from Mars and a rubbish bin, impersonating a Martian cylinder. All in Woking High Street
In the Wells version the narrator details the crash landing of Cylinders around Woking and then after depositing his wife with relatives in Leatherhead, goes back to Woking to help fight the invaders. Later, the book also details his brother’s escape via North London, Chelmsford, Maldon, and The Blackwater. At which the ship HMS Thunder Child strikes out against the tripodulated nemesis but takes a battering herself.
Mersea Island can be seen to the rear
Ulla Ulla
The narrator then travels on foot into London and discovers (Spoiler Alert) the carnage that has taken place before also discovering the “Ulla Ulla” ululation of a dying Martian in Regents Park. Yes, although the Martians had the technical ability to fly across the 140 million miles of space between Earth and Mars within a couple of days, they hadn’t reckoned with viral infection. Indeed, in 1897, when the book was published, COVID-19 wasn’t considered a thing worth discussing in polite company.
The Jeff Wayne musical version plots a similar route to the original novel and so, by association does the Immersive Experience. There’s lots of moving about between different locations, sets, and rooms, with different characters providing updates on the ‘fight’, and ‘shockingly’ asking you direct questions on where you have been and who you have spoken to. The Virtual Reality (although apparently a few years old now22) is quite impressive all the same, with the backdrop of London under attack and the Jeff Wayne music Forever Autumn blasting through the headphones as you splash along a choppy River Thames.
Not Justin Hayward but the video is better
A Confusing Avatar
Be careful though, because if like me you’re holding the hand of your nearest and dearest while the VR carnage plays out around you and you look lovingly into her eyes only to discover her avatar has turned her into a man with a moustache and flat cap, you can safely say this discovery might be treated with a little surprise. It feels like her hand, it just doesn’t look like her hand. Helllp!!! I’m all for Non-Binary Gender Equality but come on, in the middle of a Martian attack? Luckily the next stop was The Red Weed bar where I thought I might need a solid drink.
After the shock in the VR, I was glad to make it to a Gender Neutral lavatory
There are other things going on on these sets too. There’s the thing that touches you in the darkness, the splashing of the water in the river and the Martian trying to grab you when you’re wearing the VR headset. I really can’t do it justice so you’ll have to go and experience it yourself.
Thankfully, by the time we reached the bar Vikki had returned to being a woman
And the unfathomed poetic irony of the whole episode? Well, in the Wells story, the Martians were stopped in their tracks by a virus; in London the Immersive Experience was stopped in its tracks by a virus, and then to top it off Vikki and I both received messages to say we’d been in contact with someone who had ‘a virus’. Thankfully we didn’t have it though. Well, not yet anyway.
The Martian Heat Ray was the forerunner to the microwave oven so we didn’t have to wait long for Pizza
Tix
Tickets are from £40 although there are occasional ‘special offers’. So, it’s not the cheapest couple of hours but still cheaper than going to see Tottenham Hotspur and generally with a better outcome too23. But, by far the best way to see it is if someone just gives you free tickets.
Elsewhere in the 70’s, there was some talk of Wishbone Ash releasing Blowin’ Free as a single but in my opinion they did the right thing and left it as it is, because the first thing MCA would’ve done was give the track to an in-house producer with the strict instruction to ‘chop it down to three minutes’ before the day was out. So, you can imagine how it would’ve sounded. It did eventually find its way onto a single but as the B-Side to No Easy Road which is from the fourth Wishbone Ash album, the imaginatively entitled Wishbone Four.
When in doubt just add up how many albums you’ve made.
No Easy Road
No Easy Road doesn’t really sound like a Wishbone song (to me at least), which is perhaps why it was considered as a single. It sounds as if it was recorded on the Rolling Stones Mobile Unit and a discarded Stones track bled over onto the Wishbone song and they just went with the vibe. For me it’s not a very good single choice because the song is not particularly original (when compared to the rest of the Wishbone Ash canon) and has no real ‘hook’ to it, like a riff or an original melody line.
It sounds as if it was written to be a singles release but by someone who didn’t fully comprehend the nuances of writing a hit record. But it’s more of a single than Blowin’ Free, even though Blowin’ Free is a much better song. And that’s because there is a formula to writing a single and the formula is usually something like this:-
Brief intro (riff etc.)
Verse 1, Verse 2
Chorus (preferably within 45 seconds of the start)
Riff
Verse
Chorus
Middle 8
Solo
Chorus repeat to fade
Martin: “How do we turn this song into a hit single?” Andy: “Just chuck in a na-na-na.”
Three minutes and that’s it. Blowin’ Free is nothing like that. Blowin’ Free is over 5 minutes and is structured like this.
Intro Riff
Intro Riff again
2nd intro riff
2nd intro riff again
Verse
Guitar Solo
Verse 2
Slow Middle 8 with echoey guitar
Longer Guitar Solo
2nd Intro Riff
Verse 1 repeat
Guitar Solo
Outro to end
MCA Meeting
So, as you can see it’s structured a little differently to the ‘accepted’ singles format.
This rarity would set you back the best part of 5 quid these days.
I can see the MCA executives meeting with the “Ash” boys in a plush West End office, playing Blowin’ Free through on the Hi-Fi, when the record exec (who I imagine to be someone like Paul Giametti) says:-
MCA: “Great song guys. Great song. Really diggin’ it, hell yes.”
Wishbone Ash: “Thanks. Glad you like it.”
MCA: “So you want to release it as a single?”
WA: “That was the general idea, yes.”
MCA: “For what reason, may I ask?”
How an MCA Music Exec might look
WA: “Well, to reach a bigger audience, to connect with younger fans, to expand our popularity and, you know, make a bit more money…for all of us.”
MCA: “Well that’s very benevolent of you. And you’re going to do all that, with this song?”
WA: “We think so, yes.”
MCA: “Ever thought about world domination? Ha ha! Just kidding, just kidding. Ok, that’s great, so we put this out as a single then, yes?”
WA: “Yes.”
MCA: “And would you let us choose the B-Side?”
WA: “Of course, if you want.”
MCA: “Ok, so that’s agreed then. Anything else?”
WA: “No, I don’t think so.”
MCA: “Well thanks for popping in guys. Have a nice weekend.”
WA: “You too.”
Just One Thing…
They get up, open the door and whisper to each other, “That went quite well.”
MCA: “Oh, just one other thing…before you go.”
WA: Yes, what is it?”
MCA: “I seem to be missing something here. In the song. I’ve listened to it a few times and it’s been bugging me for a while, you know, what’s missing, what’s missing? And it keeps on prodding me, over and over, you know. Really annoying. And then it dawned on me. It’s the chorus.”
WA: “The chorus?”
MCA: “The chorus.”
WA: “What about the chorus?”
MCA: “Well, where is it? The chorus.”
The Ash boys look a little confused.
MCA: “You know, the singalong bit. The ‘na-na-na-na-na’ bit that everyone on the street whistles on their way to work. The chorus.”
WA: “It doesn’t have one.”
MCA: “Doesn’t have one? And you want to release it as a single?”
Silence
Silence. The Ash boys look at the floor, at each other then at the record executive. More silence.
MCA: “Ok, well you go away and record one and we’ll get one of our technical bods to punch it in afterwards. Can we do that?”
A flunky nods.
MCA: “Good. Someone let me know when it’s done.”
WA: “No, you don’t understand. It doesn’t have a chorus.”
MCA: “No laddie. You don’t understand. This is not going out as a single without a chorus. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked and I’m not changing it now, not for you, not for anyone.”
WA: “But…”
MCA: “No buts. You heard me. No chorus, no single.”
WA: “But it’s a perfectly formed pop song.”
MCA: “It’s a perfectly formed song I’ll give you that, but pop it-is-not.”
WA: “It doesn’t have a chorus and it can’t have a chorus. It’s not structured that way.”
The uneasy silence is punctured by the exec.
MCA: “So, No Easy Road it is then. As the A-Side. Is that ok with you boys?”
Paul Giametti would only allow Blowin’ Free to go on the B side
WA: “Do we have a choice?”
MCA: “Actually? No, you don’t. I was appearing to be benevolent just then, whilst not really offering anything.”
WA: “We’ll just get going then.”
MCA: “Ok. Nice to see you. Bye.” They depart and the executive shouts, “And write more ‘na-na-na’s’ next time!”
There’s The Rub
Wishbone Ash were never a singles band which, in an ironic twist of fate, was exactly how I spent the 70’s. Single. They couldn’t crack the singles market whereas I couldn’t escape it. But as the Ash boys might say, “There’s The Rub”24 because things have a way of turning out alright in the end, whether you’re down in a hole, stuck in a rut, or up on the surface, blowin’ free.
Album Cover designers Hipgnosis were beginning to run out of ideas
Conclusion
So, where does this leave me and my relationship with Wishbone Ash? As it transpires the stuff with Jane wasn’t really Wishbone Ash’s fault after all. It wasn’t mine either. Or Jane’s. It was nobody’s fault. It just was. A rite of passage. Wishbone Ash had written a song which had inadvertently tapped into the subconscious mind of a teenager in Essex, some parallels were drawn and contextualised, where parallels and contextualisation weren’t warranted and didn’t previously exist. And that’s the top and bottom of the whole sorry episode.
On a more positive note, Wishbone Ash went on to record 24 studio albums and still tour today (albeit in two separate formats). They tour as Wishbone Ash (with original guitarist Andy Powell) and at the time of writing (Nov 2021) they are touring the UK before heading off to Europe and the USA. They also tour as Martin Turner ex Wishbone Ash (with original bassist/singer Martin Turner, surprisingly). And at the time of writing they are also touring the UK (details in links below).
Andy Powell, the lead guitarist said Blowin’Free was written on a journey to the “Whisky a Go Go” club in Los Angeles. Wishbone Ash were touring with The Who and Andy liked the chord progressions that Pete Townshend was using at the time. “I just copied them and sped them up a bit” and Blowin’ Free was born.
Them included Van Morrison, The Doors included Jim Morrison. Neither of them worked at Morrisons and neither did Wishbone Ash. Coincidence? I think not.
As for relationships, well the bare facts are these: If nobody’s going to ask you on a date, (and let’s be honest, unless you’re Brad Pitt it’s not happening) then in a binary world stacked full of nothing but boolean variables25, you have to do the asking or risk becoming a recluse. The key is not giving a damn about the outcome.
Would you ask this man out on a date? I would.
Resentment
Obviously you want the person, the object of your dreams, to say yes, but the secret is not allowing the fear of rejection to prevent you from taking the first step. However, this is easier said than done because fear leads to inaction, inaction leads to disappointment, disappointment leads to regret and then all that’s left at the bottom of your emotional tank, is resentment. And between you and me, my advice is to avoid resentment like the plague, because entertaining resentment is a one-way ticket to Hell and Damnation. You should trust me on this, because I know.
Thank you for your time and dedication to this 4 part (+2) epic. I hope you found it enlightening in some way.
What I learned about girls (and as with most men, this still amounts to almost nothing) was I had no idea how to determine whether a girl or woman had any interest in me whatsoever. Not that I’m concerned with such things these days but previously I would’ve been. To prove my point, not long after the Jane Alldridge phone call debâcle, I asked Ann (without an e) Chapman whether she wanted to ‘go out’. She said no, so then I asked a girl I worked with at Boots the Chemist. She also said no. Then I asked a girl at guitar lessons. She said yes. Then said no. So, I asked a girl who worked in the Post Office. She said yes. Then said no.
The thing is, with all of them, the girls I asked on dates, I really had no idea whether they would say yes or no. No idea whatsoever.
Boots the Chemist, Broad Walk, Harlow. Girls worked there but sadly for me, they’d learned how to use the word ‘no’.
Then I asked another girl, she said yes, then no, then yes again. We got married, had three children and twenty-five years later we got divorced. I said no that time. Then I met a girl who, by my slightly biased comparison, made the ‘perfect’ Jane Alldridge look like the back end of the 236 to Hackney Wick. And I changed tack.
An attractive bus although the back end isn’t much to write home about
I (yes me) decided she should come on a date with me. I decided she had no choice. And guess what? She said yes. She said yes once more too and we’ve been married seven years.
Victoria & Me nipping to Tesco’s
Fear
As I stated previously, when I phoned Jane, I stumbled straight into my silent riffing phase because I had no plan of what to say at any point during the conversation. Due to having no previous experience to call upon to help me plan. Equally, I had no idea what would have happened if she had actually said yes.
I mean, what was I supposed to do then? What were the rules? How does someone date someone else? What was acceptable and what was off the table? How would I ensure I didn’t mess up on the first day? As you can see, my fear of failure far outweighed any desire for success. Which is why, at sixteen I’d never had a girlfriend before.
In you, much fear I sense….
I concluded therefore, that the best way to resolve this existential crisis, was to start at the top of the food chain, with the most beautiful girl in the school, and work my way down. And the question that’s been bugging me ever since (at least when I allowed myself to think of it) was, what on earth possessed me to act in such a cavalier fashion? It wasn’t until after I’d spent some time at Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) that I discovered the answer. Or at least an answer which made logical sense to me.
Who Are You?
As I touched upon earlier, when I was a little over a year old, I was hospitalised for several months with Meningitis. In the early 60’s, Meningitis was a killer disease.26 Meningitis is a bacterial disease which inflames the protective layer of the brain and spinal cord which causes, amongst other things, serious memory issues. And about the only thing Meningitis didn’t take from me was my life, because it stripped me of everything else.
60’s Hospitals
But two things did happen which would appear to prove pivotal in my development as a young child. The first was, in the early 60’s, as parents you were expected to place your sick child in a hospital, and you visited occasionally to see how things were progressing. You didn’t visit every day, or sleep at the hospital. It didn’t work like that. Hospitals weren’t for families, hospitals were for sick patients.
Secondly, Meningitis caused deep seated memory loss which meant after a while I couldn’t remember how to walk, talk, or eat, and soon I had forgotten who my parents and siblings were, where I really lived and effectively, my whole life up until that point. And when I say I’d forgotten who they were, I mean I was in fear of them, when they visited. Because now, as I perceived them, they were total strangers. And strangers were to be feared, especially ones who acted in an over familiar manner, as one might expect parents to do when visiting their child.
60’s hospitals – you weren’t there to enjoy yourself
Surrogate
So, in a desperate act of self-preservation, I attached myself to my surrogate primary carers; the nurses. They became my ‘parents’ whilst I spent months in hospital. Everything a young child needs to survive; food, warmth, protection, love, came from them and of course I reciprocated. So, once I’d beaten Meningitis, I discovered I had something far worse to contend with. And when two complete strangers appeared one day and took me ‘home’ to a place I had no recollection of, I was, to say the least, somewhat traumatised. Or as my Dad recalled, I “screamed blue murder”. No wonder! So, technically speaking, I had been ‘abandoned’ twice, in a matter of months. And on top of that, I was 18 months old and was beginning my life again, as a new born.
Here’s some heavyweight evidence on the subject, if you’re interested.
And there’s clear evidence that being subjected to inconsistent primary carers at such a young age can cause psychological trauma that can develop into co-dependency, attachment anxiety, abandonment issues and low self-esteem. It can lead to an overwhelming need for a relationship but paradoxically not feeling worthy of one. It may lead to the creation of a hole, a chasm, developing within ones personality, that becomes so big it engulfs everything around it, and the only thing that could ever possibly fill it is a relationship with the most beautiful girl in the school. But even then, it would only ever be a temporary fix because having a relationship is merely dealing with the symptom, not the cause. Akin to wallpapering over the cracks on a wall of a derelict building.
So, with all that in mind, how exactly would I have visualised success with Jane, in my own mind at least? Whilst writing this piece I allowed myself to consider, just for a moment, what really would have happened had Jane agreed to my clumsy advances and also conversely, what I like to imagine would have happened had she acquiesced. The vision versus the reality equation.
The Vision
It would have started with word travelling around school like wildfire that I, yes Lee Parka Adams, was going out with Jane Alldridge and before anyone really knew whether the earth had just span off its axis or not, my Parka would’ve magically transformed itself into a dusty, sun-bleached Poncho resplendent with the odd bullet hole from a recent stand-off with a Mexican bandido. With a cheroot tucked into the corner of my mouth, I’d’ve squinted into the noon-day sun through eyes of chipped quartz.
You got any notes on the Korean War I can crib?
The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
On top of that I’d have grown from 5’7″ to 6 feet 2 inches and instead of sitting sullenly at the back of the History class, I’d have purposely arrived ten minutes late, pushed the door open like a saloon bar in the old west, and when Mr “Dreary” Deer, the History teacher, admonished me for my poor timekeeping, I’d have cut him short and with an American accent said, “Quit yer ramblin’ ol’ timer.”
Then I’d have strode purposefully to the front of the class, tapped whoever was sitting next to Jane on the shoulder and said, “You’re in my chair, now git!” and they would have scuttled off to somewhere else in the room. Then I‘d have sat down, struck a match on the heel of my boots, lit up the cheroot and said to Dreary, “Continue with the lesson pardner,” whilst smiling at Jane who would be swooning next to me.
Quit yer ramblin’ ol’ timer
So, in case you hadn’t guessed it, that was the vision. The reality? That’s quite easy, I’d be a mumbling wreck, simpering around the school with doe eyes, following Jane about like a lost sheep until she finally would have lost it and shouted, “Stop following me! Leave me alone! You’re suffocating me! I can’t bear it. Every time I look around you’re there with that idiotic half grin on your stupid face. Go away!” And of course, having such low self-esteem I’d have been heartbroken and devastated and I’d have slunk away, destroyed.
“I’ll lend you my notes on the Battle of the Pusan Perimeter, just leave me alone for 5 minutes ok?”
The Parka-Cardie Combo
Of course, what I really wanted to happen was for Jane to say to me, “Excuse me, but did you have an inconsistent primary carer relationship before you reached the age of two? Because if you did, I might just have a solution for you and some of the psychological trauma that have dogged your teenage relationships.” But she didn’t say that, because for some unquantifiable reason, at fifteen she wasn’t a qualified paediatric psychologist.
“Excuse me, but did you have an inconsistent primary carer relationship before you reached the age of two?”
Jane never said this – I cannot fathom why
So, Jane couldn’t win and neither could I. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. I’d have been devastated by the eventual outcome of any response she could offer me, given my request. Additionally, as my temporal lobe had pointed out, we weren’t compatible, on any level. I had no experience of girls. She had no experience of someone like me and my issues, and so even if she had been attracted to the Parka-Cardie Combo27, the honeymoon period would have been brief. Very brief indeed.
The Parka-Cardie Combo
We’ll take a final look at what else the Wishbone boys got up to in the 70’s, plus look at where they are now. That’s all in part C.
In the final part of the Wishbone odyssey (deconstructed into parts a, b & c), we discover a.) what happened when Jane and I met at a reunion 25 years later, b.) what was so important about my primary carers, but more importantly, c.) what happened to Wishbone.
There were a few occasions after, outside of school, when Jane and I were in the same room once again. The fateful phone call was never mentioned though. The first reunion was at Susan Szydlowski’s 16th Birthday Party. Sid (or Syd), as she was affectionately known, lived on a Garden Nursery in Nazeing, a village near Harlow where people with money lived. We all traipsed over from Harlow one evening but weren’t allowed in the house with shoes on.
Man Child
Jane was there – with her boyfriend. But he wasn’t a boy from our year. He wasn’t even a boy from our school. In fact, he wasn’t even a boy. He was a man! He looked about 30! This is what I was up against. It was just so unfair. He had his Porsche parked outside (at least I think it was his) and he had stubble and a black roll-neck jumper. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the Milk Tray advert but even so, he wasn’t allowed to wear shoes either, so he looked as foolish as the rest of us. I didn’t speak to Jane that evening.
This is what I was competing with
Greyhound
The next time we met out of school was a year or two later at a reunion at the Greyhound Pub in Harlow Park. I thought I’d dress up for this event and wore my old Netteswell 1st Team Football shirt which despite being a football shirt had no other redeeming features. It was bottle green, looked as if it had been washed more than once too often and when I matched it up with a brown V-Neck sweater, I was told I looked like a Mint Cracknel chocolate bar.
Colour coordination wasn’t a strong point of mine
So, it was clear that even after I’d left school I still had the dubious ability to appear as if I’d dressed in the dark. What I didn’t know about the reunion was that Jane was going to be there. She arrived looking exotic and amazing as usual and I was horrified. So horrified in fact that I didn’t speak to her for the whole night.
Reunion
The last time I saw her was when another girl from our year, Linda Harris, decided to combine her 40th birthday with a school reunion party. Linda is the sister of Steve Harris, who back in Part 1 of this piece, lauded Wishbone Ash as a wonder of modern music.
I went along to the hall and met some friends there. Then, a whole load of others who I hadn’t seen since I was sixteen, began to arrive and a friend of mine, Colin Baterip, said to me, “Have you seen Jane yet?” I shook my head.
“Jane who?” I asked.
“Alldridge.” He replied with a knowing smile.
“Which one?”
“Don’t start that nonsense Adams, you know which one. You had a thing for her at school, didn’t you?”
“Didn’t everyone?” I said.
“Yes, but the rest of us weren’t stupid enough to ask her out.”
“Well, nothing ventured… and no, I haven’t seen her,” I replied and started scanning faces. “Well, you need to,” he whistled. “She. Is. Hot.”
Wow!
Yes, Jane was there and she’d brought both L’s with her too. And Colin was right, she was even better looking than I had remembered. She had really blossomed, into the most incredibly beautiful woman. Even further out of my league now. But I did speak to her. I made a point of it. The intervening years had left me feeling less clumsy and less self-conscious than I’d been at school.
I shuffled over to where she was standing. I was fully aware there was no chance she was going to come and look for me. But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t on an ego trip (not much I wasn’t). “Hi Jane, how are you?” I said. She smiled. “Hello,” she said. “How are you?” She didn’t have braces anymore. That was a relief.
Do you think I may have lost my youthful appeal?
We did the pleasantries, she smiled once more, uncomfortably this time, and then she just hit me with it. And I discovered she still had the ability to destroy me with one, ill-considered remark. “I’m really sorry, your face is familiar, but I can’t remember your name.” And Bang! There it was. Belittled again. I resisted the temptation to drift into the mind of a fifteen year-old because now I was made of sterner stuff. This time I was able to bat it away like an annoying fly. And, as I no longer used the silent riffing technique to confuse prospective girlfriends, I had to come back with something else. Then, a totally illogical idea popped into my head and before I’d had a chance to consider the complexities of its cognitive dissonance, off I went.
Jonathan
“It’s Jon,” I said. “My name. Jonathan Clark.” “What on earth are you doing?” I asked myself.
“Oh, so you’re Jonathan,” she said. She studied me closely for a moment. “You’re not, are you.”
Me and Jon Clark, Austria 1976. Are we not identical twins? No. Ok then.
“Yes, I am,” I said trying to keep a straight face. I came to your house once, years ago. Remember?”
“Yes, you did! You came with that other boy didn’t you?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Lee. Lee Adams.”
“I remember now. So, what do you do now?”
“I work in IT,” I said, quite proud of the fact I was doing fairly well as a Y2K contractor.
“Why does everyone I speak to work in IT?” she sighed, with an air of frustrated dismay Somewhere in the distance I heard the air slowly being let out of a balloon. No, it wasn’t a balloon, it was my dignity. I ignored it and ploughed on.
“How about you, what have you been up to?”
“Well,” she said, “I was married, now divorced…”
Helen of Troy
I didn’t hear what she said next. Not because I was thinking I had another chance now she was ‘back on the scene’. No, what I was thinking was, “Wow, so you’re not perfect after all. Thank God for that”. And so, I was able to consign that illusion to the dustbin where it belonged. Because to my way of thinking, had she been perfect, as I had always assumed, no one would consider for a moment that divorce could ever be the best option going forward. It was akin to Helen of Troy turning up at your house one evening and you saying, “Look, if all you’re going to do is bang on about Menelaus, Paris and that other mob, I’m having an early night. I suggest you do the same, eh?” And then, shutting the door in her face you go back to reorganising your sock drawer.
If Helen of Troy turns up at your gaff, whatever you do, do not let her in.
Clutches
We talked for a little while longer and I wondered whether to tell her I was really Lee Adams but in the end I didn’t. The moment passed, someone interrupted us and that was it. She left some time later and we never spoke or saw each other again. I hadn’t planned to hoodwink her, it just popped into my head, but when it became clear she didn’t remember me, I felt obliged to continue with the deception, I don’t know why. I hadn’t even known she would be there, at the reunion, perhaps after 25 years I still felt the need to repay her in some way.
But it also felt as if this was the evidence I needed to confirm I’d finally escaped her clutches. The clutches I had erected without her knowledge or consent. The reunion, brief as it was, had served its purpose. I discovered I didn’t need her friendship. And I didn’t need her approval. I didn’t need her to help me be the person I wanted to be. And I didn’t need her at fifteen either, I just thought I did. Or to be more specific, my pre-frontal cortex did.
And that’s where we go next. To meet my pre-frontal cortex. And what a piece of work that is. But, on the flipside, it does have good reason to be a little messed up. Head on over to Part B to find out why.
It’s Guy Fawkes night, so what better way to celebrate the greatest attempt to overthrow the establishment (and replace it with another one of a different religion), than to look at my punk album collection. Well, a small part of it (one album by The Damned, but mainly I’m going to warble on about the wildest gig I have ever attended).
This week (2nd November) in 1979 The Damned released their third album, called Machine Gun Etiquette. In 1977 they had released two albums (Damned, Damned, Damned & Music For Pleasure) both on Stiff Records. They didn’t release an album in ’78, changed line-ups and then moved to Chiswick (the record label, not the place in West London).
The Damned were on Chiswick, not in it
Rainbow
Then on the 30th November they headlined at The Rainbow Theatre in Finsbury Park. Me and my mate Steve Byrne got tickets, went along and were never quite the same again. I saw them once more at a free concert in Harlow Park a couple of years later (actually in 1987, around the time they released Eloise as a single) but that was a very tame, laid back gig by comparison. Having said that, The Stranglers and Sex Pistols gigs I attended were also tame by comparison. But I’ll come on to that in a minute.
On The Train
From what I remember, Bernie and I went up to Finsbury Park on the over ground from Harlow Town to Tottenham Hale, then got the tube to Finsbury Park. All very easy. The Rainbow was a top venue on the circuit. Take a look at some of the bands who played during the few weeks after we went:-
There was a pub nearby which Steve and I went in to have a drink before the gig started. And who was sitting at the bar getting sloshed? Rat Scabies, drummer of The Damned. Someone went up to him and asked for an autograph but he refused, saying his name was John Smith (which he was probably drinking). His name is actually Chris Millar so he lied twice in one go.
£3 was BIIIG money in those days
We went in to The Rainbow to find our seats. We were in Row D in the stalls and when we got there we discovered the first three rows of seats (A-C) had been removed to allow people to stand and jump around at the front. So now we were in the front row. Except others started arriving and standing in front of us so we stood up and moved to the front too.
Max Splodge
From what I’ve discovered, Spoldgenessabounds were supporting but I don’t remember seeing them (I was probably still in the pub). Splodge didn’t release the classic single Two Pints of Lager and a Packet Of Crisps Please until 1980 so I wouldn’t have heard of them. I did see them a few years back at the St. Anne’s Castle in Great Leighs so I made up for it.
Anyway, The Damned came on, Dave Vanian the singer dressed like a Transylvanian Dracula character after which he’d taken his name, Captain Sensible (who was nothing of the sort) on guitar and keyboards, Algy Ward, leather clad biker punk on bass and John Smith from the pub on drums.
Victims? I don’t remember them but I saw a few.
747
The Damned smashed into their first number. It was an explosion of noise, like a bomb going off in my head. In fact it was a noise, just a high volume screaming noise from the amps and PA. It was like tinnitus on speed. The screeching noise didn’t stop and a few minutes later the first song was over. I knew this not because the noise in my ears had disappeared but because the band physically stopped playing. The screeching though continued unabated. They started the next song and the screeching banshee wailing continued. It continued for four songs and then by the fifth song I detected something. A slightly different pitch from the whining drone I’d heard so far. It was a guitar. Then I heard a voice, then drums, then the bass. They all came flooding in, as my ears became accustomed to standing next to a 747 at take-off.
Groaning
A song or two later and there was a sudden groan from behind us. I looked round. Sweating bodies were everywhere. Then there was another groan and suddenly we all fell backwards as Row D gave way under the pressure of the people standing and they buckled and fell apart (the seats not the people). People stumbled over the wreckage of the seating but the gig continued. Then a few songs later it happened again. A short groan, then metal buckling and wood splintering, everyone falling backwards, people stumbling and falling over, others falling on them, then people helping them back up. Then a few minutes later it happened again. I was expecting the gig to be halted because people were getting trampled on but it didn’t. As with the titanic, the band played on.
And the band played on
So people got back up and carried on jumping around. About six or seven rows collapsed during the gig but that wasn’t the worst bit. The worst bit was when people starting flinging pieces of broken seating forward because presumably, they were stumbling over it. We were still at the front, pressed hard against the wall between the orchestra pit and the stage. We couldn’t have got out if we’d wanted to. Every so often a large piece of furniture, a wooden seat or a steel frame, came wheeling over our heads and landed in the orchestra pit. And it kept happening. The pit started to fill up after a while and debris littered the stage.
Injuries
Then the band were informed of the carnage going on in the front few rows, the gig was stopped and a punk, in bondage trousers and a mohican was brought up onto the stage. Algy Ward the bass player shouted over the PA. “Stop this throwing of seats. People are getting injured!” They were. The mohican boy had blood pouring from a head wound. Then, as if to punctuate the call for calm, a large piece of twisted metal came cartwheeling through the air and landed on the stage just beside Ward, and skittered away towards the drums at the back. He shook his head, looked across the crowd and said, “I’m never playing London again.” He was as good as his word. He left the band a few months later.
Don’t throw furniture, it could ruin my hairdo
The jagged, heavy metal weapons continued to whizz overhead, people got hit and were taken out by their friends. Then The Damned finished their set, everyone went crazy and they came back on for an encore. Captain Sensible was dressed in his characteristic Pink and Yellow furry suit which at some point in the proceedings caused him to over heat. So he took the top off and threw it in the audience. Then the trousers came off and they flew overhead too and were clawed away by a thousand grasping hands.
Clothes?
He was now only wearing a pair of socks. He put his guitar back on which covered his dignity. They finished the encore, went off, came back on but this time, instead of wearing conventional clothing he had an inflatable dinosaur tail on. It was so big though that whenever he turned around the rest of the band got knocked over. Then the tail went into the audience and people pulled it. Captain Sensible then found himself flying through the air, suddenly landing on his back. This was his cue to remove the tail before he ended up in the orchestra pit with the rest of the rubbish.
Looked better with his clothes on
I can only assume he had been angered by being pulled unceremoniously across the stage because his guitar went into the amps at the back, then he pushed the amp head off the cabinets, picked up an Orange 4×4 stack, staggered across the stage and flung it into the audience next to where I was standing. People grabbed it as it flew across the orchestra pit, held it for a second on the wall where it landed, then pushed it into the pit with everything else.
Drumkit
This was the cue for Rat Scabies, John Smith, Chis Millar or whatever, to remove his apparel (not a pretty sight), kick his drumkit to pieces, smash it into the amps and walk off.
No, I’m John Smiff mate, honest
The lights went up and only then was the true carnage revealed. We picked our way across row after row of broken seat debris. It was like a warzone, except it was inside the building. Then I noticed a large chunk of Captain Sensible’s pink jumper lying on the floor. I went to pick it up as a souvenir and someone grabbed it at the same time. There was a little tug-of-war before apunk lad came up and said, “Here I’ve got a razor,” and cut it in half. We smiled and went outside. It was cold as we walked to the station.
What?
I couldn’t hear a thing except for the permanent shrieking in my ears. Bernie was talking but it was as if he was mute. His mouth was moving but no sound appeared to be coming out. “WHAT?” I shouted. He was saying something about the gig being wild. When we got on the underground we discovered the others on the train weren’t overly keen on us shouting at each other at full volume. So we stopped talking. My ears were still ringing a couple of days later. The wildest gig I’ve ever been to. Even wilder than Paul Simon in Hyde Park.
People smashed up theatres when he played
So what has all this got to do with Discogs? Well, Discogs is a buying and selling vinyl database online. You create an account and you can buy and sell second hand vinyl (or cassette tape, 8-track, CD etc.). You can also catalogue your collection and it’ll give you a value. So, I started doing just that. I haven’t finished yet but although I don’t have enough to give up work (actually I’m already retired), I have more wrapped up in black, circular plastic than I thought I did.
As an example, I bought Machine Gun Etiquette in November 79, when it was released. It probably cost about £4.99 at the time. It’s worth 42 years later? Depending on it’s quality, anything up to £70. So when I started cataloguing The Damned album I remembered the gig, then Steve Byrne sent me message the other day asking me the same question.
Anyway, the best I can do in my collection is a Never Mind The Bollocks album with a missing track which has been sold for over £900.
Lovely
So, based on that, even if it’s just for the insurance purposes I suggest if you have any vinyl at home, start cataloguing it on Discogs. Or better still, give it away…to me.
Have a nice Firework night, and whatever you do, do not blow up parliament (difficult as it is to resist I know).
Guy Fawkes – wanted to do away with the establishment. Gets my vote every time.
44 years ago, on October 28th 1977, the album “Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s The Sex Pistols” was released on Virgin Records. Here’s what happened as the establishment went into total meltdown.
Caused some consternation in the legal world
The Sex Pistols released their seminal album, “Never Mind The Bollocks…” after signing for EMI. But first they left EMI and signed for A&M. Then they left A&M and then signed for Virgin. Then they released their album. It is their only album release and it was quite a good one. However, before it was released they had already released a number of noteworthy singles. Let’s take a quick look at them now and set the scene for the wonderful establishment upset.
Anarchy
The first single The Sex Pistols released was “Anarchy In The UK” which hit the shops on 26th November 1976 on the EMI label and reached #38 in the UK charts. Next up on the Sex Pistols ‘shock-show’ was the memorable five minute interview on Bill Grundy’s Today Show on the 1st December, which soon descended into abuse and farce and then spawned the single “Where’s Bill Grundy Now?” by the TV Personalities.
Siouxsie Sioux – invented Goth but as part of the Finchley Mob was a ‘fan’ of The Sex Pistols
The Sex Pistols & The Today Show
The Pistols had only been invited on the show because megastars Queen were unable to attend (apparently Freddie had a cold) and so were drafted in as last minute replacements. They were shown to the Green Room where guitarist Steve Jones downed a bottle of Blue Nun in readiness for his TV appearance. And what an appearance it was.
Steve Jones. Liked a Liebfraumilch
Bassist Glen Matlock said they were rehearsing for a tour with Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers, when manager Malcolm McLaren received a call regarding the TV slot. A Limo was sent to pick them up. “We’re not going and we’re not getting in that”, said Glen. It was only when McLaren explained that they wouldn’t be paid if they didn’t go, that they finally acquiesced.
Glen Matlock was a Teenage Sex Pistol
Siouxsie
The clip can be seen here. The language is somewhat “industrial” but not particularly poor considering today’s standards of acceptability. These days, most people seem to be more concerned with Bill ‘chatting up’ Siouxsie, of Siouxsie and the Banshees, who was there as a fan of the band (before the Banshees were formed).
Where’s Bill Grundy now?
Poor old Bill didn’t work on mainstream TV again and the public were so incensed (helped along by the extremely incensed media/establishment) that Thames TV were forced to issue a public apology.
Sorry not sorry
The tabloids also loved every minute of hating the Pistols and lapped up their indiscretions with bombastic vitriol. Especially The Sun and The Mirror.
Who are these punks?
Jubilee
In June 1977 it was the turn of The Queen and the Silver Jubilee. This one had nothing to do with Freddie however and was all about Queen Liz 2 (gawd bless ‘er). The Pistols decided to mark the occasion by releasing the single “God Save The Queen” which didn’t really paint the ‘happy-go-lucky’ monarch in a totally positive light. Lyrics such as:-
“They made you a moron, potential H-Bomb”
were viewed by the incensed media/establishment as somewhat vulgar and offensive.
The Queen belatedly became a Punk Icon
It was banned by the BBC, a host of ‘Independent’ radio stations, and record shops, making it the most censored record in British history. Then, the BBC in conjunction with the British Market Research Bureau, rigged the UK charts to stop it from reaching the No. 1 spot during Jubilee week. Retailers stated that “God Save The Queen” was outselling it’s nearest rivals by 2:1.
WH Smiths were so incensed, they couldn’t even bring themselves to add the filth to their chart list
A&M
To add to the confusion, A&M had pressed the single, fired the Pistols the next week and the single was finally released on Virgin Records. This A&M version therefore is fairly rare and quite expensive. On the “Discogs” vinyl sales database it’s listed as having an average price of £5,658 and a top price of over £12,000. And no, I don’t have a copy (sad face emoji).
If you have this version don’t throw it away. Give it to me and I’ll throw it away for you
So, after all the furore, how exactly were the Pistols supposed to top it once again? Well, simply put, they released an album with ‘offensive’ language on the cover.
Obscenity
When various shops up and down the country started to stock it and display it in their shop windows, police forces were instructed to remove the offensive material and charge the shop owners under the “Obscene Publications Act” of 1427. Well, not quite that bad but not actually that far off.
As usual, the major retailers (Boots, Smiths and Woolies) all banned the album. Virgin Records were selling it (it was on the Virgin label) and the manager of one of its shops in Nottingham, Chris Searle, was charged and arrested with contravening the “Indecent Advertisement Act” of 1889.
Virgin Records and Tapes, Nottingham
Searle found himself in court, but with back-up from Richard Branson, head of Virgin records, who had hired John Mortimer QC (the writer of the “Rumpole of the Bailey” TV series) as defence, they put forward their case.
John Mortimer wasn’t necessarily a fan of The Pistols
Etymology
Rumpole, er, I mean Mortimer, argued that the word “Bollocks” was in fact a nonsense statement and called Professor James Kinsley, head of English at the University of Nottingham as an expert witness. The Professor explained the etymology of the word “bollocks” was in fact an Old English term for “priest”. It had also appeared in early English translations of The Bible as a word meaning testicles. It therefore, had no meaning in the context of the phrase in question.
Once a champion to the stars, now champions the stars
The Magistrates seemed somewhat put out by the fact they couldn’t send anyone down and the black cap had to wait for another day.28
They summarised thus:-
“Much as my colleagues and I wholeheartedly deplore the vulgar exploitation of the worst instincts of human nature for the purchases of commercial profits by both you and your company, we must reluctantly find you not guilty of each of the four charges.”
In other words, “We’ve all worked really hard to find you guilty but it appears the law states you’re not, so unfortunately we’ll have to go with that.”
The Sex Pistols – liked to cause a fuss
Aftermath
Despite its notoriety and sales bans, the album debuted at #1 in the UK charts with 125,000 advanced orders, went ‘gold’ a few weeks later and spent over a year in the Top 75. It went on to sell over 2 million copies and today is seen as the definitive punk album. Then it spawned a TV Series and numerous memes.
Noel started on ‘Buzzcocks’ and ended up on ‘Bake Off’
Album Title
But where did the title come from? Steve Jones explained it was a phrase some fans used which effectively meant, “Don’t concern yourself with unnecessary trivia.” But that’s not a very good title for an album, so they went with “Never Mind The Bollocks” instead.
These days the album cover adorns T-Shirts, Mugs, Clocks, Key Rings, Socks, Bedding and numerous other assorted paraphernalia. And for good reason too. Because it still sells merchandise. But for a short time, not so long ago, when I was 17, a man went to prison. Because he put a record sleeve in a shop window.
In Part 2 (and there’s only one more to go after this episode) I discovered I was enamoured by the charms of the exotically beautiful Jane “with 2”. Here, we find out what I did about it and why. If you’ve not read them yet, you can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here
(Track 3 – “Queen Of Torture” – The Phone Call)
One day in December 1975 I stumbled upon the idea that I would pluck up the courage to ask Jane with 2, out on a date. This is analogous to say, the footballer Harry Kane, at eighteen and after a dismal loan spell at Leyton Orient, coming back to Tottenham Hotspur and announcing to Spurs Chairman Daniel Levy, “Get me Florentino Perez on the blower, I’m off to Real Madrid.” It was akin to me, as a five-year-old, picking up my beaten-up Dunlop Tennis Racket and announcing I was playing for the GB Davis Cup Team (it couldn’t have been much worse if you ask me), after all, “She told me you can try…”
Harry didn’t get his dream date, so we had something in common
Tarot
The thing is, at fifteen any information you hear can be used to positively or negatively impact your thoughts and feelings because at that tender age, your life experiences are so limited it’s almost impossible to separate good information from bad. The best I had was this, “She hadn’t said no.” And whilst Jane hadn’t said “no” I still had a chance. The fact I hadn’t asked her anything and therefore, technically speaking at least, she hadn’t been given the opportunity to return a deleterious response was beside the point, and I still had (the image of) a handful of Lovers Tarot cards up my sleeve.
The Lovers Card. If this didn’t work, nothing would (it didn’t and nothing did)
All I had to do was play those cards at the right time and in the right order and the-Jane-with-2-L’s-Seymour-Alldridge-combo would be mine, like putty in my hands. The fact I had more of a passing resemblance to Patrick Moore than Roger Moore didn’t seem to deter me either. But in what world would Solitaire or Jane Seymour even, look at the likes of Patrick Moore other than in amusement? However, the worlds of Astrology and Astronomy have always been poles apart, like oil and water, and for good reason too.
I’m continually perplexed as to why Patrick Moore was never offered the part of 007
Undertones
It was true that in 1975 the Undertones singer Feargal Sharkey was a complete unknown, but even so, it appeared I was already attempting to model myself upon him. Just watch him deliver the song “Jimmy Jimmy” from Top of the Pops in 1979 (an episode I happened to attend in person nonetheless).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKTPjLU5DDA&t=29s
How I may have looked when asking Jane out on a date.
The Undertones were a great band but you didn’t look at them and think “Wow, they’re cool!” It was likely I was thinking “I’m glad I don’t look like them” whilst appearing to be the prototype model for their stage attire.
During the Christmas school holidays, I had resigned myself to the fact that enough was enough. It was time to put myself out of the misery of my own making. It was now an open secret that Jane was the focus of my desires. Before we were due to return to school in January 1976, I would ask her, on the telephone and I would finally have the answer I desired. Jane would be mine and we’d live forever in perfect harmony. The only harmony I received though, were those of the vocal and guitar variety on Argus.
She was far away, I found it hard to reach her
She told me you can try, but it’s impossible to find her.
Stuart & Spurs
After Christmas had come and gone, my cousin Stuart came to visit. He was the same age as me and had lived in Harlow until about five years before, when his family moved to Australia as “£10 POMS”.29 They had recently returned to the UK and were living in Northampton. So, we decided a day at the football was in order and took the train from Harlow Town to White Hart Lane. We entered the ground and decided to stand on the terraces in the Enclosure.
0.30 seconds in is where the magic happens
It was the 6th January 1976, the 3rd round of the English FA Cup. Spurs were at home to Stoke City and after the players came out of the tunnel to kick off, a strange thing happened. The cameraman followed them out and moved quickly along the side of the pitch, filming the crowd. This was unprecedented and as we watched we realised something. The cameraman was coming straight towards us. We grinned as he approached, thumbs up and waving and then he was past us and gone. We enjoyed the match but not as much as watching it the next day on ITV’s “The Big Match”. And there we were, in all our teenage glory, grinning, thumbs up.
Ne’er-do-well’s at White Hart Lane – January 1976. Stuart and me make it onto “The Big Match”. Note the propensity for flat caps was still very much in vogue within the football terraces fraternity.
The Phone Call
The next day, Monday, was the big day. It had to be. We were back at school on Tuesday. I’d painted myself into a corner I couldn’t get out of since I’d also backed myself up against a wall and the wall was prodding me. I knew what I had to do and now it seemed like a cold, icy chill had entered my bloodstream. I was nervous yes but calm also. It was time. Time to face the music, time to become a man. Time to take the final step into adulthood. I looked up her name in the Phone Book as I had a thousand times before. There it was. Alldridge – Broxbourne.
I knew the address because I went round her house once. I can’t remember the reason (other than I was besotted) but Jonathan Clark and I decided to go over to Hoddesdon on the bus, and when we got there we looked up her address and then discovered we had no idea how to find the house. So, I called from a phone box and she directed us. It was a big, detached house and Jane was there with her Mum and her sister Susan. I don’t recall how long we were there for, but I can’t believe it wasn’t awkward.
Buzzing
So, as I sat on the stairs in the hall of the house in The Downs, I could visualise her house (the one I’d been stalking) and so I had some comfort I wasn’t entering completely unknown territory. I picked up the receiver. It was reassuringly heavy in my hands and the speaker buzzed and vibrated in my ear. I began dialling the number and the tone clicked and hummed as it made the connections, then all at once the number was dialled and the phone rang at the other end. It seemed to ring forever as I waited patiently at the other end.
1970’s instrument of torture
Then it clicked and a voice answered, “Hello, can I help you?”
“Er, hello,” I stammered. “Is, er, is Jane there?”
“Yes, who’s speaking please?”
It sounded like her mother. “It’s Lee. From school.”
“Hang on.”
It’s That Loser Again
I heard the resounding clunk of the receiver being put down and a voice echoing in the distance. “Jane, it’s for you. Someone from school,” she said.
There were footsteps and then the breathless voice I’d heard a thousand times, talking to me; only to me. One-to-one. “Hello?” she said. How perfect was that? Indeed, had she opened with, “Why don’t you fuck off bothering me at home you little shit,” it’s fair to say I’d have sighed gently in much the same way.
“Hi Jane,” I said, “it’s Lee. Adams. From school.”
“Oh…oh….hello!” she said brightly. I was three seconds in and I was smashing it.
“How are you? Did you have a good Christmas?” I asked.
“Yes, really good thanks, you?” she replied.
Riffing
“Yes not too bad,” I replied and then a dreadful thing happened. Silence happened. I hadn’t planned anything after the opening gambit and now I was into the riffing phase of the plan, I realised my riffing skills were somewhat lacking in depth, in fact they were totally non-existent.
“Did you want something?” she asked eventually.
“Sorry, yes, I wanted to ask you something but first I was just wondering if by any chance you watched The Big Match yesterday?” Quite why I thought she’d tune in to football highlights on a Sunday afternoon I have no idea, but I asked anyway and it suddenly occurred to me that since I wasn’t chatting to one of my mates at school anymore, I should have perhaps considered some other aspects of conversation.
I was about to discover that, by and large, teenage girls in the 70’s didn’t watch The Big Match
Flying
“No, no I didn’t,” she said flatly. “Why?”
“Well, I was on it,” I explained excitedly.
“Were you? That’s great,” she replied. Twenty-seven seconds and I was flying. Whether I was flying directly into a brick wall or not I couldn’t say but I was here now, so I metaphorically shrugged and continued.
“Only in the crowd you know but I was actually on the telly. With my cousin. Stuart. We were waving and everything.” This was an amazing revelation, but she didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm for my newly found TV stardom.
“That’s nice. Was that what you phoned me about?” she asked with a laugh.
Out Out
“No, what I wanted to know…” I ploughed on realising I was now into dark, dangerous territory because what happened next could change my whole life. I had been preparing for this moment for months, years even, in my own mind; the point when I would finally get to ask Jane Alldridge, the goddess of Netteswell Comprehensive, out. And to paraphrase Mickey Flanagan, I wasn’t just asking her out. I was asking her “out-out”. Ironically though, now I found myself teetering on the precipice it didn’t seem so fearful, after all I was just speaking, like I did every day.
Don’t ask her out. Ask her Out-Out
“Go on,” she said.
“Yes, well I wanted to know if you would, well, er, like to go out with me…sometime, perhaps,” it was out. I’d said it. Out loud, so she could hear. It was her turn to be silent.
“Well?” I asked after a moment.
“Like on a date?” she questioned.
“Yes, like a girlfriend…and all that.” There was another pause.
Clubber Lang
In the film Rocky III, Clubber Lang (aka Mr T) is interviewed before he fights Rocky Balboa. The interviewer asks him for a prediction on the fight. “Prediction?” he says. He thinks for a second, looks into the camera, licks his lips and growls the word “Pain.” It perfectly summarises what came next.
Clubber Lang may not have been much of a clairvoyant, but he still possessed knowledge I could only dream of
“I do like you but not in that way,” she said. I could feel a painful lump swelling in my throat and my eyes were beginning to sting. Where had that come from? I’d been fine a moment ago.
“I see,” I said trying to keep my voice steady. But, I didn’t “see” at all.
“I think it would be better if we just remained friends,” she continued.
How I thought Jane viewed our relationship
So No One Told You…
Wow! I thought. Friends eh? I didn’t even know we were friends, so this was turning into a triumphant success. And, she said we should “remain friends” which meant we already were and I just hadn’t realised. This was bad but it was wonderful too. Only I could be dumped in the dreaded “friend zone” and not even know it.
How she really viewed it
Of course, the phrase “remain friends” had other, hidden connotations too. Because it sounded a little like she was concerned that a more personal relationship between us could, over time, destroy the wonderful friendship we already had; the one I hadn’t been aware existed up until just now. So in reality, the only reason she was turning me down was because she treasured our especial friendship too much. She was so solicitous, mature and grown up. And I had so much to learn.
How I viewed it
Then She Was Gone
“Yes, ok that’s fine,” I said and fell into melancholy silence. After a moment we spoke a little about schoolwork and then she said, “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, I must go now.”
“Ok, well thanks anyway,” I don’t know what I was thanking her for, I’d just been blown out. Even so, the stinging in my eyes increased and we said goodbye and I put the phone down. The clunk as I replaced the receiver and the sudden silence that enveloped me, echoed through the empty house, and brought with it the cold chill of isolation, something I’d never experienced, and as a result, was woefully unprepared for. I was sad, I was lonely, I was fifteen. And yet, as I sat quietly on the stairs, I noted the all-pervading devastation was intermittently punctuated by fleeting moments of elation.
Every action creates a reaction. And the reaction was, a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Admittedly, I felt as if I’d been ceremoniously eviscerated with a blunt, rusty tin opener but at the same time the pain of the blow had been tempered by the “friends” disclosure.
Go out, dressed like this? Are you insane?
School
The next day was a school day. And although I went in as usual, I didn’t say anything to anyone about “it”. I was devastated in a way that someone who has never had the central object of all their desires and affections thrown in their face, could ever comprehend. So, I sat at the back of the class in History and there was Jane, at the front, not speaking to me or even looking at me. In fact, it appeared she was purposely not looking at me. “I think we should remain friends.” It was beginning to dawn on me that her interpretation of friendship was somewhat dissimilar to mine. Wildly dissimilar.
The Boy With The Spare Pen
I thought friends talked and joked together. I thought they shared things. Went to the shops together. Bought stuff and went round each other’s houses. I wasn’t aware that they ignored each other for no apparent reason. And to be perfectly blunt I’d have been content with a friendship of any sort. Because I just wanted to breathe the rarefied air she breathed; to occasionally be the object of the dark, sultry eyes; to share a joke or a conversation. I just wanted her to know I existed in some other way than ‘the boy with the spare pen’. Then someone said to me, “Did you ask Jane out?” and everyone turned around. There seemed to be a very awkward silence. “Yes,” I replied eventually. “Anne told me she said no,” said one of the girls haughtily. “That’s right, she did.”
One of the ways I imagined Jane and I would look, strolling into double History
Later that day, I had the misfortune to bump into Dave Twigg. Dave was in my year and had a number of complex facets to his personality. He was either smashing your face in, warning you he was going to smash your face in, or smashing somebody else’s face in. And if he wasn’t doing that, he was having a laugh and a joke, usually at your expense. There wasn’t much else to him that I could detect. I waited to see which side of his demeanour had turned up today.
Twigg
“Adams!” he shouted across the corridor. “I hear you got blown out. Big time!” he grinned. Thankfully I was only going to be verbally abused today.
“Something like that,” I replied.
“So, you asked Jane Alldridge out?” It appeared the old adage “bad news travels fast” was alive and well between fifteen-year-olds. He laughed at my stupidity. “You prat. As if she’d go out with you, I mean, look at you.” He pulled at my zip-up cardigan. He had a point, but I pushed his hand away nonetheless. He stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. “Oops,” I thought. Then he had second thoughts and his disposition reverted back and he smiled again. Perhaps he thought I’d been through enough already.
Pillock
“I have to say, prat or not, she’s very pretty. I admire your taste and your balls. Shame she didn’t!” I smiled in spite of myself. When Dave Twigg wasn’t threatening your very existence, he could be quite amusing. Later, as I walked along the school corridor to the next lesson, I spied my brother Robert with his friends, also changing classes. We didn’t talk, we rarely communicated other than shouting, and as he was two years older, he always won any disagreements. I did not want a conversation with him, so my friend Ray Pask decided to engage him in conversation instead.
“Hullo, Rob,” he said. “D’you hear about ‘Agg’ (me)?
“No,” said Rob.
“He only went and asked Jane Alldridge out and she said no.” If the phrase “What a muppet” had been in existence in 1976 I feel sure it would’ve been used quite frequently when describing my actions at the time.
“Said no, did she? What a pillock!” Rob laughed.
I existed in 76 but they didn’t
They were walking behind me, past the Technical Drawing classrooms. I waited for the verbal onslaught that was sure to materialise but it never came. Even so, I’d made a grave error of judgement. A faux-pas that could haunt me for months to come. I’d asked Jane out on the day before we came back to school, whereas sensibly I should have asked her on the day after we broke up for the summer holidays and in doing so given the ‘news’ a six-week cooling off period, by which time people would’ve been greeting the revelation with the age-old phrase, “I heard that yonks ago you wazzock!”
Why Visiting Home Bargains Is Like Playing Squid Game
lee.r.adams
16 Oct, 2021
If you’ve not seen Squid Game, it’s currently streaming on Netflix. As good as it is, it’s not necessarily for the faint-hearted. But if gratuitous violence isn’t your thing, don’t worry, because you can play your own version, at the shops.
The other day, one of my children asked whether or not I’d watched Squid Game. I hadn’t, but decided to give it a whirl on the Telly thing, in the corner. Anyway, I got quite enthralled by it which is unusual, since many programmes that have multiple episodes and series (not seasons30), tend to have something of a ‘slow-burn’ element to them, where it takes three to four episodes for the story to get started. This was much quicker though.
Game of Thrones. I’m 25 episodes in and the story has just started to get going!
Bingeworthy
So, I started bingeing Squid Game, like you do, and recognised some parallels with the UK shopping experience. If you’re not familiar with it, the essence of it is a whole load of deadbeats and down-and-outs are forced to play games for the entertainment of the super-rich. But that’s just Home Bargains.31 Squid Game is even worse, if you can imagine that.
Squid Game is a fictional Korean story where adults play the games they played as children, for vast quantities of cash. Except there’s a twist. Of course there is. The rules of British Bulldog, It, He, Murder in the Dark, Runouts etc. state ‘if you are caught, you are out until the next round.’ In Squid Game the players who are ‘out’ get ‘eliminated’ from any further competition. In this game it’s a bit more of a literal ‘elimination’ though. And usually there’s a rifle involved.
Shylock
So, those playing Squid Game are all in debt up to their eyeballs (which tells a different story regarding South Korea and its ‘progressive’ capitalist, westernised culture), and the players have little choice other than to play, since back in the real world the loan sharks are circling, waiting to ‘send the boys round’ to collect their ‘pound of flesh’.32
One of the myriad reasons visiting Home Bargains is like playing Squid Game is because everyone is a washed has-been, teetering on the rim of the abyss, desperately looking to claw back some money, just to make their existence slightly more palatable. And, I include myself in this category. Primarily because I have a mortgage I’ll still be paying when I’m a 117, which I still owe a few quid on.
Shark
And the loan sharks are still circling, waiting to send the boys round, except in this instance, the loan sharks aren’t illegal backstreet moneylenders. No, these ones operate right on the high street, in broad daylight. But they don’t refer to themselves as “unauthorised” moneylenders. No, they call themselves a ‘bank’. But it’s much the same thing. And the ‘boys’ they send round aren’t Albanian drug traffickers. They’re called ‘bailiffs’ but they do much the same job. It’s called money with menaces, or intimidation if it’s classed as illegal, but they’re given legal powers to intimidate. So they do.
Anyway, at the weekend Vikki and I had some shopping to do. Usually we go to Tesco’s or Lidl, because they’re the easiest to park near to. But ever since the ‘Fuel Crisis that never was’ occurred, it’s been difficult and sometimes impossible to get anywhere near Tesco, as the queues have been down the street, gridlocking the roundabout in the process. So, for a change we went to Home Bargains and Aldi. They avoid the roundabout but have useless parking facilities.
Squid Game ‘Shopping Edition’
Red Light, Green Light
Before you enter Home Bargains you have to be drugged, or you just wouldn’t go in, obviously. Then one of the guards sorry, shop assistants, checks you’re wearing the appropriate Sports Direct tracksuit apparel. Once the check is complete, you are able to play a game called Red Light, Green Light. This is where you can only enter the shop when the green light is on and you have to stand still outside if the red light shows. The lights were originally installed to improve the Covid related shopping experience, not to play Squid Game but they work just as well for either.
Green Light! You may now enter the shop
Trolley Dash
Once you’re in though, you get to play a game called ‘Wildfire Trolley Dash’. This is where you pick up as many useless items as you possibly can. However, you have to select the ones that are half the price of Tesco’s. These are considered ‘a bargain’ which, naturally cannot be ignored.
The staff, who wander about in scary uniforms, control this aspect of the game. Staff are forbidden to talk to each other, or customers.
“I’ll just check whether we have any more Fairy Liquid in the stockroom.”
And you never see the Store Manager, aka The Front Man. He just hides in a back room watching everything unfold on CCTV.
The Front Man – “Clean up on aisle 5!”
An extra game, called “Sweetie Scream” is only available to those accompanied by young children. This is where you have to escort your 3 year-old’s past the confectionary and toy section of the store. This generally covers about a quarter of its total footprint. If the child screams “I want Feeties!!!” the parents have to either scream a negative response back at the child, buy them something, or remove them from the shop and therefore the game. It’s everyone else’s job to gawp and murmur something about “over-aggressive parenting” but nobody must intervene.
Shopping can be an exhausting experience
Gladiatorial
Failing to complete a game in Squid Game means elimination for the contestant. Eventually, this culminates in the successful contestants playing the Squid Game, where two players face off, like modern day gladiators. Squid Game is like a combination of Hopscotch and Sumo Wrestling. One player attempts to move to certain sections of the Squid but must not step outside the boundary of it. The other tries to prevent it.
Home Bargains Checkout Assistants are often under quite a bit of pressure
Checkout
“Checkout Line” is the Home Bargains version of Squid Game This is where you have to queue up with your purchases and choose the checkout line which is going to empty the quickest. If you choose poorly, you then have to enter an opposing line without anyone noticing. You’ll note, if a pensioner is at the front of a queue, nobody must queue behind them, even if the other queues have 6 or 7 customers already waiting. The reason for this is simple.
Customers queue for the till at Home Bargains
The pensioner will still be there an hour later complaining that the coupons he/she cut out of TV Quick this week are valid even though they haven’t bought any items which correspond to them. At this point, the checkout assistant has to call “The Front Man” to come and “eliminate” the pensioner. All this takes time and in Squid Game, time can literally be the difference between life and death..
Never queue behind a pensioner with coupons
Run Down
At the end, if you can get out of the shop with your wits still intact, your shopping still in hand and you can make it to your car without being run down by a coupon wielding pensioner on a motability scooter, then you win the game and get to repeat it all next week. Unless the “Fuel Crisis That Never Was” ends and you are able to return to the comparative, quiescent, gentile solitude of the self-checkout at Lidl. And the chances of that happening? Well, you’ve got a better chance of winning Squid Game and those odds are fairly low.
Thank you for your time. You can return to the Blogs page here Lee’s Blog Page
Bulletproof Coffee? Don't mind if I do.
lee.r.adams
9 Oct, 2021
So, you’ve not heard of Bulletproof Coffee. Well listen up. Information overload incoming.
About 2 years ago I was chatting to a guitarist/piano teacher friend of mine about the vagaries of diet when he told me about something called “Autophagy”33 which he’d discovered and then he told me how it had literally cleaned up his body and mind. And it works at a cellular level too, so pretty low level stuff. I was looking to change my dietary habits after years of neglect, abuse and doner kebabs, and I went away impressed, determined to research the mysteries of this new age thinking.
Autophagy works at cellular level
Bulletproof
The first thing I discovered was The Ketogenic Diet34, or Keto for short. Then I discovered IF35, or Intermittent Fasting for long. Then I discovered Apple Cider Vinegar36 and then the 3 B’s: Biohacking, Bone Broth and something called Bulletproof Coffee. And, as if I’d suddenly been transported into the mind of my old mum, I said to myself, “Well what’s that then, when it’s at home?”
So, what is Bulletproof Coffee?
Did you just say butter?
Me: “Well, it has coffee in it.”
You: “Ok, so that’s good.”
Me: “And water.”
You: “Excellent.”
Me: “And Butter.”
You: “Ok good….wait. What did you say?”
Me: “Butter, yes.”
You: “Butter? BUTTER? Are you out of your fricking mind?”
Me: “And Coconut Oil too.”
You: “Are you insane? Are you Gwyneth Paltrow? Are you Gwyneth Paltrow insane? Oil and butter? In a drink? So, what do you think, I was born yesterday?”
Me: “It’s true. Other than coffee and water, Bulletproof has two other main ingredients in it. Unsalted Butter and MCT Oil.”
You: “But why? Seriously. Why? Why do that to a lovely cup of coffee? A lovely cup of jitter juice?”
This looks pretty repulsive, primarily because it is
How to make Bulletproof Coffee
Well, there are very good reasons for the additions but first, I don’t think you should be thinking of this as a cup of coffee with a dollop of butter bobbing around in it like an iceberg, ála the image above. It’s more of a frothy, creamy, coffee flavoured drink. But made from coffee. Basically you make it like this.
First you make up a shot of black coffee. Espresso, or Americano. If you’re doing it properly you’d use coffee that is ‘mycotoxin free’.37
Buy yourself a Melitta and give your coffee odd names
Lob it in a blender. Add a chunk of organic ‘grass-fed’ unsalted butter.38
The Gold Standard in Bulletproof terms (even though it’s the silver one) Looks lovely doesn’t it. No….ok MCT Oil. Can increase the regularity of certain aspects of your life
Add some MCT Oil (I’ll come on to that later), whizz it up for 30 seconds and enjoy. Personally, I add some Almond Milk to mine, or even Pea Milk (yes that’s a thing too ladies and gentlemen).
Did you know peas contained milk? No? That’s because they don’t Do not put hot liquids in this type of blender And there you have it, a cup of joy
But how did we get here, to a place where people think it’s acceptable to put butter and oil in a hot drink? Well, I’ll tell you.
Dave Asprey
Some years ago this unhealthy, fat American bloke called Dave was wandering about Tibet being unhealthy and fat (his words not mine) when he stumbled gasping, into a tent in the foothills of the Himalayas and the occupant served him some tea made with Yak milk, to revive him. It was so invigorating he vowed to research it when he got back to the US and some years later Bulletproof Coffee was born.
Some yaks may feel exploited
He discovered that by merging organic, grass-fed butter with coffee and MCT Oil, it provided nutrition and health benefits he’d not seen before. But don’t take my word for it, see what Bulletproof say about it here.
It’s a high fat, low carb drink that provides energy for several hours of the day and because there’s no carbs in sight, you don’t crash and burn at 10.30am, or in my case 8.15.
The Bulletproof Bible
Dave though, after coming up with this drink, went on a diet and isn’t fat anymore. And he has a multi million dollar organisation to run now too. I’m trying to discover the latent benefits of Bulletproof Sausages but I can’t get the pig to stand still for long enough to blend up the ingredients. Perhaps I’ll try something else.
The Bulletproof Bible. Because God said so.
MCT Oil
MCT Oil is Oil derived from Coconuts which are high in Medium Chain Triglycerides (MCT).39 They get absorbed into the body quicker than fats in food which contain Long Chain Triglycerides (LCT’s). I don’t want to get into biological compounds and chemical structure (mainly because I have no idea what it is) but short chains = quick digestion, long chains = slow. Once they get to the liver they are converted into ketones which the body uses for energy (this assumes you’re carbohydrate consumption is low).
MCT is good for brain functionality because the brain is able to absorb the C8 variety very well, and so a shot of this in the morning should give you a good kick, especially when combined with the caffeine from the coffee (are you beginning to see how this works?). Add in the unsalted organic butter (do not underestimate how unpleasant salted butter in coffee is) and you have a power drink of champions. And me. Except I’m not a champion.
And I haven’t even got onto the weight loss yet. But that may be because Coconut Oil is a natural laxative, so don’t go pouring a few tablespoons into each drink you make. Maybe start with half a teaspoon to begin with and build it up slowly. Better safe than sorry eh?
Careful with that blender, Eugene
It is advised not to use a ‘Bullet’ or ‘Single Serve’ sealed blender to mix hot liquids, as in the blender image below. This is because hot liquids expand as steam is created, which then forces its way through the seal and you’ll discover hot coffee pouring into the motor and ruining your latest purchase (as I did). So, although I was lucky enough to get a replacement (through Amazon), I’ve discovered warm liquids are ok. So, I make up the coffee, pour it in with the other ingredients and leave it to cool for a few minutes, and then it’s ok. I add in hot water from the kettle after.
Lunch may be delayed by a few minutes
Aerolatte
I’ve also tried a stick blender which is ok and another invention, the milk frother. You can buy one of these for anything between a fiver and £20. I’ve tried a few different types and the one I bought for a fiver was great, until it fell apart after a couple of months. This is what is considered to be a ‘false economy’, i.e. you get what you pay for.
Aerolatte, does the job and has a little stand
With this device, you place the frother head into the coffee, just below the surface, switch it on and blend it for about a minute until the froth goes crazy. If it doesn’t froth at all it’s usually because you’re totally incompetent; at everything. Ok, maybe not. It depends on the milk, how fresh it is, the protein content, the fat content, the temperature, what day it is, whether or not you’ve had a sandwich, whether you’ve been to Lidl recently. Lots of things.
Best thing to do is try different things and see what works. Or just stick it in the fricking blender and have done with it. Better still, forget the whole thing and go to the pub. They serve coffee there too these days.
Jackson Pollock
Just one other thing on milk frothing. Ensure you switch the frother on after you have submerged the head into the liquid, unless you were planning on wearing the drink.
Devil Food
On a Keto diet, Bulletproof replaces breakfast because your body burns the fat for energy rather than carbohydrate. And carbs, if you didn’t already know, are the food of beelzebub, his dad and his great aunty Mavis.
That’s it really.
So, the idea is to drink this instead of eating a bowl of devil food cereal as it provides more energy, more nutrition, more of everything, without the shocking blood sugar spikes.
Remember, it’s quite possible that not everything you’ve been told about food is true. In fact, it’s possible none of it is. Except here, of course. This is your happy place.
Thank you for your time. Chin chin.
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A Walk Around St Pauls
lee.r.adams
2 Oct, 2021
Everywhere But St Pauls
This is a blog about a walk around St Pauls, not a blog about going in St Pauls. If you want one about going in St Pauls then you probably want to head on over to the Central Anglican Church website. It’s a bit wild over there but you might still enjoy it.
How a walk around St. Pauls might look if you walked around it
A couple of weeks ago, at the back end of August, Vikki and I had a couple of days ‘up the smoke’. You know, in town. The reason is all because of Lauren & Stuart’s extended Wedding (a link to the wedding blog is here). You see, they’d bought us a Virgin Red Letter Day thingy which consisted of a meal and a trip to the top of The Shard.
Pandemicals
We were supposed to go last year but what with pandemics and stuff we postponed it. But it worked out really well because London was very quiet. Quieter than I’ve ever seen it. Apart from in the 70’s when I worked at BOC Datasolve and sometimes I did night shifts (a link to a blog about Datasolve is here). If we finished early, I used to walk back from Old Street to Liverpool Street and get the ‘milk train’ home. London was quieter then, in fact it was all but deserted at 4.30 in the morning, apart from the odd milk float, road sweeper and the occasional prostitute40, there wasn’t anyone else on the streets. But for August in 2021 during the day, it was really quiet.
Oysters
Anyway, we went up on the train from Hatfield Peverel (our nearest station), to Liverpool Street and changed to the Central Line to go on to St Pauls. And that’s where the fun started because my Oyster card wouldn’t work. I’d had an email the previous week saying I needed to update my card details (which I did) otherwise I wouldn’t be able to top up my account. I updated the details and added £20 to it and then it told me I had £58 on my card! How bizarre I thought, why did it need topping up?
Colchester Rock Oysters don’t work on the Underground and neither do the card-based varieties
Anyway, as soon as I tried to use it the barrier responded with an error message. The bloke at Liverpool Street was very helpful and let me on and suggested I phoned the number on the back of the card when I got to my destination to resolve the problem. When we got to St Pauls I obviously couldn’t get out. I started to explain my predicament to the station attendant who just cut me short and said, “Do you want me to let you out? I can let you out.” Oh, I thought, don’t we have to go through some kind of routine where I explain my predicament, and you question me on it’s validity because it’s more than your jobs worth etc? But no. He just said go over there and I’ll open the gates. I was quite disappointed.
Psycho Biker
The next obstacles to overcome were the traffic lights at New Change. When you come out of the Underground at St Pauls, you cross the road at the lights but there was no Rachel Riley and the Countdown Clock to let you know when the F1 grid lights would switch to green and at the time, there were two buses vying for Pole position.
Lollipop Ladies were never like this in my day
Vikki was behind me, and I was watching the lights (on red) and the buses (revving and burning their clutches out) and I went to cross the road when some psychopath on a push bike (worse than me) came flying round the corner like he was Mark “The Manx Missile” Cavendish on the Champs Elysees, took a layer of skin off my leg as he flew by at 80mph and disappeared through the red light.
London cyclists trying to beat the traffic lights
“Ready to eat” Avocados
And I thought, these cyclists are constantly complaining about being knocked off their bikes by motorists but have scant regard for anyone else’s safety, including their own. Personally, I think most of them get what’s coming to them. But while I’m on the subject of cyclists I really like it when you’re driving along a country lane and suddenly you find yourself driving at 10 mph behind about 15 cars, buses, vans, and other assorted motorised transport.
And when you finally get to the front, it’s taken so long that you’re wife, who wasn’t even pregnant to begin with, has now given birth and the child is nearly three years old, you’re designer stubble is now at ZZ Top length and your ‘ready to eat’ avocados are now…well, ready to eat. And when you do get to the head of the queue, it’s not a bumbling farmer on a tractor, or an old codger in a 1963 Ford Zephyr. Oh no, it’s three cyclists, riding side by side, appearing to be completely oblivious to the carnage and rage they’ve been causing for the last 63 miles. And still they wonder why perfectly reasonable people get behind the wheel of a car and suddenly it’s Death Race 2000 all over again. Cyclists: you can’t live with them and you can’t run them over.
ZZ Top. As children they once got stuck behind a cyclist
Glass Ceilings
However, I digress. After we had taken our lives in our own hands by having the temerity to cross a London street when the lights were red, we continued on our way to our destination, which at this point wasn’t St Pauls, it was a hotel just round the corner to St Pauls.
We found the hotel, (here’s a link if you’re interested – Leonardo Royal Hotel) checked in and went to our room on the 6th Floor. That’s when Vikki discovered she had a phobia of glass lifts.
Discovering Phobias
And then she discovered she had a phobia of opaque, frosted glass walkways six floors up overlooking large, glass atriums. I have to say, I also have a phobia of that too. I didn’t though until I got out of the lift at the 6th floor. Then my Amygdala went into meltdown. The Amygdala is the part of the brain that deals will fear in the present. The Cortex deals with past events. The Amygdala took one look at the view of the atrium over the balcony beside the lift and said,
Amygdala: “Wow, that’s high. If he fell off the balcony he could do us all some proper damage.”
Cortex: “Yes but there’s a balcony so it’s not dangerous. I’m going to get him to take a look, just to prove to you it’s safe.”
Amygdala: “I don’t need proof. I already know the danger. I’ve done the calculations. We’re high up, ergo it’s dangerous. Hey! Don’t you dare. Come back! If you go anywhere near that balcony….right….I’ll soon put a stop to that.”
Dizzy
And that’s when the dizziness started. Then I thought, “Hey. Let’s not get too close to the edge.”
And my Amygdala went, “Finally! Someone is talking sense.”
It’s moving!
And from that point onward Vikki and I walked down the centre of the walkway every time we went to and from the lift. I say walked, we either stepped very gingerly and purposefully, like we were picking our way through a minefield, or we walked with a very wide gait, like a primate that had soiled its nappy.
£95
The room was pretty good. The hotel, if it’s not new, has been recently refurbished. Although the view of an internal, load bearing post and the lifts wasn’t to my liking, at £95 per night including full breakfast for two, in the City of London, I’d say that was a good deal. The hotel was called Leonardo Royal London St Pauls and I’ve since discovered it’s not always £95 per night. ☹
Sabine
The hotel also boasts a roof terrace bar called Sabine. If you can get a table, you can sit and sip cocktails with the view of St Pauls and the London night skyline to admire. Ensure you take pics and videos for your Insta/TikTok influencer account though.
You can find out more about the rooftop bar by following this link – Sabine Rooftop Bar
What the rooftop bar looks like when all the staff are self isolating
The Goblet of Fire
We had a coffee in the bar at the bottom of the atrium and so I didn’t suffer with any overt vertigo issues. Well, not until I saw the menu and the prices. At that point I had to subdue all my natural instincts to turn into my parents. “How much for a coffee? What’s it served in, a diamond encrusted goblet? I’ll have water. Tap water!”
Beats a cuppa any day
Confusion
In the evening we had a meal booked through the Virgin “Shard” Experience gift. Now I don’t know about you but if you were given a “Shard” experience trip as a gift and it included a “meal for two at world renowned Marco Pierre White’s London Steakhouse, followed by a trip to the viewing platform at the Shard”, I would sort of assume the meal was in The Shard, followed perhaps by the trip to the top (having been to the top of The Shard, you certainly wouldn’t want to eat first).
Oh, I’ve got that alright
But when I came to book it earlier in the year, the meal and the trip were able to be booked separately. So that’s what we did. We had the meal one night and the viewing gallery trip the next afternoon. I thought no more about it until a few days before we were due to go when I received an email from MPW’s London Steakhouse, confirming the booking for 2 on Wednesday 25th at 7.15pm.
Middlesex Street
All looked good and as I scrolled through the email just to check I hadn’t missed any vital information, like “Bring your own steer” or “food and seating not included in this offer”, that sort of thing, I noticed the address of the restaurant, hidden away at the bottom. Middlesex Street it said. “Hmm,” I thought. “I know Middlesex Street. But it’s nowhere near The Shard.” Then I remembered. It’s near Liverpool Street.
Middlesex Street. May need some investment.
I looked on Google Maps and there it was. Off Bishopsgate, near Spitalfields Market and Brick Lane. I thought, perhaps there’s another restaurant in The Shard. I checked. No, there wasn’t. So, for the last year I’ve thought we were going to a MPW restaurant in the Shard and we’re actually going to an upmarket Curry House in Ripper Street. And, we’d booked a hotel at St. Pauls because it was fairly close to The Shard, just on the other side of the river, and then discovered we were nowhere near the restaurant.
A Walk Around Half of London
Anyway, we decided to walk to the restaurant because it was only about 25 minutes away. Vikki decided she’d wear heels because it was ‘only up the road’. That was a mistake. It took us about 40 minutes to get there because she had to stop evert 5 minutes to adjust the strap on her wedges. Anyway, we made it in good time but just so you know, the area around Liverpool Street isn’t quite as salubrious as it is around St Pauls. This area appears to have its fair share of those less fortunate than ourselves hanging around on the streets. And we’d dressed up for an evening at 5 star London restaurant.
A night out with the dossers. The hand on Vikki’s waist has been superimposed. I was at the Pizza Express in Woking all night
Anyway, we stepped over the deadbeats, druggies and drunks, made our way through passport control, through the security scanners, over Checkpoint Charlie and into the restaurant. Which was quite nice. It was downstairs, done out in a French Bistro fashion, with bevelled mirrors, pictures and cartoons adorning the walls, dark wood furniture and waiters in black and white.
The London Steakhouse – should be in The Shard if you ask me
Marco
It appears that Marco though, in a bid to claw back some lost pandemic revenue, has decided to cater for absolutely everyone in this restaurant because, not only were we surrounded by others who had put on all their ‘refinery’ (as Vikki calls it. No Vik, it’s just finery), but we were also surrounded by blokes in T-shirts, shorts and flip flops, like they’d just come back from the beach. I couldn’t work out who the restaurant was catering for. It seemed like anyone and everyone. It’s not that I’m a snob (I am) but I wouldn’t have worn my full military dress uniform with medals and ceremonial sword if I’d known I could dress like I’d just finished a 12 hour shift down the mines.
Me and Vikki, waiting to be seated
Ribeye
But the meal was pretty good. We had a cocktail to start which was in with the price, a starter, main course and a dessert. You had to purchase sides and any upgrades on the steak dishes came with a surcharge.
But all that, for two, came to £55 (plus surcharge) which is why you get blokes dressed as if they’re going to KFC for a bargain bucket, sitting there. Because the cost isn’t too dissimilar. We walked back to the hotel, past the dossers, winos and beggars and went to look at the rooftop bar at the hotel, only to discover it was closed due to a COVID outbreak.
Vik gets on it
Later we learned all the staff were isolating although we then discovered it might open the next evening. So we decided to invite my kids up for the evening, if it was open. As it transpired it became so complicated that only Izzy came up. But she lives in Blackheath so it wasn’t far for her.
Wobbly Bridge
The next morning, after breakfast and after having coffee thrown over me, we went for a ball of chalk across the Wobbly Bridge. The Millennium Bridge which spans the Thames from St Pauls on the northside to the Tate Modern on the South. And as we walked we discovered that nobody was about. This was around 11 am. There was no one on the bridge, no one at the Tate, no one at The Globe. It was just very quiet. We wandered along the river, round to the Golden Hinde and then back to the hotel and onward to London Wall to visit the Museum of London.
Millennium Bridge. Quiet for the time of year
Museum of London
We found our way in to The Museum of London via a dodgy looking escalator in a grimly lit concrete cocoon that is the area around the original London Wall. It’s free to get in though so I was very happy.
London may not have evolved much since prehistoric timesComputer says no
Dub London
Right up my streetLet Your Yeah Be Yeah (And Your No Be No)
The first thing we found was the Dub London exhibition which provided a wander back to 60’s ska and reggae and some history of London and Reggae which for me was a delight since I discovered the music via its connections with 70’s Punk music. They had a section on Linton Kwesi Johnson, a particular favourite of mine, plus The Pioneers whose single on Trojan Records I had back in the 60’s (it’s long since gone). Vikki suggested we go and see the rest of the museum and although this was a tiny exhibition, if I’m honest I could’ve stayed there another few hours just listening to the wonderful, spirit lifting tunes coming through the PA.
Woolly
Unfortunately the rest of the Museum was a bit of a damp squib for me to be honest. I was expecting some historical timeline of London (especially the inner walled City) but it appeared to me to have little geographical correlation to the present day city (or City). For example, there were some excellent information on Woolly Mammoth bones being unearthed in parts of Ilford, but if you don’t know Ilford or what it looks like (and what it may have looked like then) the information becomes meaningless because it lacks any contemporary association. Having said all that, the last time I was in Ilford there were quite a few woolly mammoths sitting in KFC so perhaps there’s no need for a modern day correlation.
Great info but does anyone know what Uphall Brick Pit looks like?Earliest recorded non-binary wooden idol – Rainham Marshes, Dagenham 2400BC
Later we wandered through middle ages London with the Plague, the Great Fire and all and ended at 60’s to Modern Day London where we discovered the smashed bass guitar of Paul Simonon of The Clash. I know they’re from London but it was smashed in New York. Does that matter?
Smashed Bass of The Clash (includes a reflection of Vikki)How it looked moments before its modification
Actually Engaging In A Walk Around St Pauls
In the afternoon we walked down to the Old Bailey, where we discovered it was built on the site of the old Newgate Prison from which the term “As black as Newgate’s knocker” comes from. Dr. Crippen, The Kray Twins, The Yorkshire Ripper, and Stephen Ward for his part in the Profumo Affair, were all tried here. We past the new Paternoster Chop House i.e. the First Dates restaurant (now moved!) round past Cutlers Hall, back across Paternoster Square and then we walked to The Shard. Technically speaking, strolling through Paternoster Square is, to all intents and purposes, a walk around St Pauls which is what we came here to do…at some point.
The Old Bailey – Did you know, no one is above the law? Other than those who are above it by birth, it’s completely true.
At The Shard, we showed our tickets and joined the ‘VIP’ queue. The VIP queue is basically anyone who has a pre-paid ticket. Then we took the two lifts to the top. Not one each but one after the other.
The Shard. Tall in places
The Top of the Shard
It’ll be no surprise to anyone to say there are some amazing views from the top. For example there are girls drinking cocktails whilst livestreaming to TikTok. There are also seats around the outside and a bar in the middle. But we didn’t indulge in alcohol. We’re now beyond the need to post stuff on SM to prove how exotic our lifestyle is and how ‘cool’ we are. So I just do it on a blogsite instead! If you decide to climb the stairs up to the next viewing gallery, you discover this area (72 floors up) is out in the open.
The Walkie Talkie Building. Where I used to work, although the term ‘work’ is used in its loosest sense
Red Alert
And you have a 360° view of the London skyline. The glass is very high so there’s no danger but Vikki’s amygdala was on Red Alert whereas mine was only on Amber. She spent most of the time standing in the middle of the viewing platform, holding onto a post and saying, “It’s moving, I can feel it.” Occasionally she took a tentative step forward, like a new-born calf learning to walk but then like a landlubber on a listing ship, her balance would disappear and she’d go back to clinging to the post for dear life. “How are you enjoying this?” I asked her. “It’s lovely,” she replied. “Can we do this again sometime?”
Vikki may have had some trouble with her punk nappy
Back on terra firma we walked back to the hotel via the Millennium Bridge and attempted to book a table in the rooftop bar. That was more difficult than it was worth but we managed it.
Looks like an entertaining boat trip
St Pauls & The Rooftop Terrace
Izzy arrived at about 7.00 and we went up. After being told the place was fully booked for most of the evening, we discovered that it was no more than half full but it did have amazing views of St Pauls, Docklands and The Shard amongst other things.
Vikki asks for more food while Izzy dons her virtual reality glasses to eat. Which is ironic, as they ate virtually everything
We had a meal that cost more than some small countries total GDP but it was good food and the bar was pleasantly decorated. We sat outside later when it got quieter but once the chill night air set in, it was time to leave.
Influencers live streaming to TikTok
Beautiful Baynard Place
The next morning we had breakfast but this time I didn’t wear the coffee and we went for an exploration walk around the area. There’re some lovely little back streets, cut throughs, alleys and the like, all with hidden history. We discovered Church Entry, a small cut through alley that originally boasted a medieval church which is long gone now. As the plaque explained, it burnt down during the Great Fire of London in 1666. We also found Baynard Place and the Church of Scientology, which made me wonder about whether the establishment really are looking after our best interests, or is just that they’re so busy looking after their own and they never quite get round to ours?
How Baynard’s Castle used to lookAnd what it was replaced with
Then it was time to go and we packed up, walked back to the station and got the train home. But if we can get a double executive room at Leonardo’s again for £95 (including breakfast and via Secret Escapes) I’ll be going back. Maybe next time I might even go in St Pauls as well.
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Depression - Fighting the Funk
lee.r.adams
25 Sep, 2021
A while back, I was asked at work to write some blogs on the subject of Mental Health, and one of the pieces I came up with was something I called My Top Ten Tips for helping someone who has depression. I’d suffered with it, along with Panic Attacks and Anxiety, sometimes all at the same time and usually when the housework needed doing. My wife suffered with it too. She didn’t suffer with depression herself. She suffered with mine. But that’s a whole different story. And it was so much fun I wrote about it. That’s a fun read.
So, I posted some blogs on the work blogsite and then people started contacting me, through the blog page saying things like, “I know someone like that,” or “I had the same experience,” and so on.
Coffee Machines & Depression
And it wasn’t just people I worked with, these were people from the US, Canada, Scandinavia, and across Europe. And it wasn’t until then that I realised this was a global issue that nobody was talking about. Then, one day, while I was at the coffee machine in the office, someone said, “I read your blog and it had some great information but, how do you actually help someone, with depression?” And then I thought, perhaps I should write down some pointers, things which were beneficial to me during my brush with the dark side, and they became the Top Ten Tips. And here they are. Of course, I had to put my own spin on it, so you won’t find this type of article in any professional, medical journal anywhere, and probably for good reason.
Is this the Mental Health Advisory Service? No, it’s a Coffee Machine
Firstly, my Top Ten Tips piece totals thirteen and in Westernised culture the number 13 is unlucky. And, people who have a phobia of the number 13 suffer from something called Triskaidekaphobia. I suffer from a phobia of words like Triskaidekaphobia. But, I stuck with 13 to buck the trend. If you suffer from Triskaidekaphobia then just read up to number twelve. Number thirteen is fairly boring anyway.
So here’s my Top Ten of Tips with three extra, free of charge. In no particular order then:-
1 – Time
For anyone who’s depressed or dealing with someone with depression “time” is very important. It’s important because there’s no quick fix. No short cuts. It’ll take as long as it takes. After all, how long is a piece of string? A doctor said to me once that the rate of improvement from depression is equal to the rate of decline. So, if the depression has been building up in the background for six months then it’ll take around six months before you can expect any significant change. It’s a rule of thumb though, not an exact scientific calculation.
The Persistence of Memory by Dali. Quite apt really.
The way depressed people use their time is like this. “Ok, what can I not do today and how long can I not do it for?” or, “How long will it take me to mess up everyone’s day?” or even, “Wow, Homes under the Hammer is really interesting these days. Even though it’s a re-run from 2009 and house prices have since trebled which renders the programme redundant, I still wish they would devote a whole station to running it back to back all day like E4 used to do with Friends.” Time therefore, in a depressed mind really doesn’t equate to much. It ceases to be of any importance.
A depressed person cannot be ‘wasting their time’ because time is nothing. Wake Up. Stay Depressed. Sleep. Repeat. Time is the measurement of a day. Depression means every day is the same. Therefore time has no meaning. It merely signifies another day with depression. Tick Tock.
2 – Calmness
This is really important. Most people who have experienced depression will know what it’s like sitting on top of a ‘ready to erupt’ volcano of negative emotion. When people around you are calm then it can have the desired effect on you. That is, the volcano in your head can also become calm. The opposite is true of fussy clients, who won’t pay for anything and want everything done yesterday. This is not conducive to a calm working environment, and should be avoided by everyone with depression. Come to think of it, it should be avoided by everyone. If you have a spouse who is depressed then nagging them to ‘snap out of it’ probably isn’t going to generate the positive response you were hoping for. It goes hand-in-hand with the idea of ‘killing with kindness’ as depression feeds voraciously on negativity and negative emotions.
Calmness & Relaxation
So, if you’re haranguing your other half to do the washing up, or to even have a wash, then all you’re effectively doing is digging a deeper pit for the depression to hide in and sooner or later it’ll take your other half with it. Better then to put those negative thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind, smile through the sufferance and look towards a time when you might be back to how you both used to be. Not easy admittedly, but calmness is the key. Trust me. I know. Just remember, they can’t argue with themselves. If you steadfastly refuse to argue with them, the depression has nothing to feed on.
3 – Relaxation
Like being calm, relaxation also works wonders with depression. Relaxation though is not so easy in the real world where work and life get in the way. Having four screaming children, two dogs, six cats, a budgerigar and a lama racing round the house is unlikely to generate a relaxed atmosphere. In these circumstances you might need to bin the lama and sell a few children.41 Or get rid of the lot and buy a fish tank. Fish tanks are very relaxing. Especially if they have fish in them. And water.
A fish tank can be more entertaining than Homes Under The Hammer
4 – Understanding
Understanding depression is more difficult than it sounds. The idea that depression is just having a bad day every day is probably not going win over any friends who are depressed. Saying things like “What’s it like then?” or, “Come on, it’s harder where there’s none. Pull yourself together,” or, “Are you sure there’s something wrong with you, you seem perfectly fine to me,” aren’t remarks that figure highly on the empathy scale. They are considered by many to be stupid remarks made by stupid people. If these are the kind of things you say to, or about depressed people then take a moment to draw a large arrow on a piece of paper, then go to a mirror, look at yourself, point the arrow at your head and say loudly, “I’m with stupid,” over and over. After that, come back and continue reading.
5 – Listening
This isn’t about sitting with someone while they warble on about how difficult their day has been because Homes under the Hammer finished at eleven-thirty and they’ve been in a downward spiral ever since. This is about listening to what all that warbling really means. It means trying to make some sense of why Homes under the Hammer provides some basic solace in an otherwise desolate, black vortex. If like me you think the reason Homes under the Hammer exists is for thick people who haven’t got the brain capacity to do anything else, then you can begin to understand where people with depression might go all day.42
“No, seriously! I’m really interested!”
It seems to me that having depression is like starting all over again. You can’t concentrate for long enough on anything complex because it’s too tiring to do so. Why is it tiring? Because excessive emotional turmoil is burning up your energy. So you have to start with the basics. Like not doing anything and watching Homes under the Hammer. HUTH is not strenuous. You don’t have too think much to watch it. The work is all done for you. All you have to do is watch. “Hell is other people” said Jean-Paul Sartre. Lee Adams said “Depression is daytime TV.”
Scientifically proven to exacerbate mental health conditions
Daytime TV
So when you come home from a hard day at the office and find your depressed other half still unwashed and sitting on the sofa where you left them nine hours ago, ask them what they’ve been doing all day. If they say, “Well I watched Lorraine, followed by Good Morning Britain, then Homes Under the Hammer, Bargain Hunt, Jeremy Kyle, The Real Housewives of Orange County, Millionaire Matchmaker, a re-run of Hawaii five-o and then Pointless,” you might be excused for initially thinking “You lazy, good for nothing *%$!”. But what you should be thinking and saying is “That’s good. You’re doing something and enjoying yourself.”
But daytime TV is something of a paradox. If you watch too much of it and you don’t have depression it can cause the onset of mental illness. If you have depression and you watch it, it might just be the first step towards redemption. By the way, the person on the sofa described above was me. I’ve since conquered my dependency on Daytime TV.
On a scale of 1 to The Real Housewives, how depressed are you?
6 – Talking
Depressed people don’t like talking. It takes too much effort and energy. Plus, you have to think. Depressed people are not able to think because their body is an emotional volcano waiting to spew vitriolic magma at anything that displeases them. When your physical and mental energy levels are at minus fifty it’s difficult to have a meaningful conversation about anything. The one thing depressed people are good at is talking about how dark their lives are and how much they hate everything and everyone. But this is good. At least they’re talking.
They might actually enjoy recounting how they got up at ten and went back to bed at eleven for a two hour power nap. And then had a little doze around four after a strenuous day binge watching Netflix. Depression hates kindness. Actually talking to someone with depression is likely to bring out the worst in them. Like prodding an injured lion with a stick to see how it responds. But stay with it and if you catch them at the right moment you may be rewarded with a smile. The lion won’t smile though. The lion will eat you. Chomp chomp.
Lions – aggressive when prodded, aggressive when not
7 – Acceptance
If you can accept a person is depressed and they’re not going to get better any time soon then you are part way to also accepting you’re there for the long haul. Unfortunately it’s not like a headache where you take a Nurofen and it goes away. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
A Happy Face Emoji
A Depressed Face Emoji
See the difference between the emoji’s? It’s very subtle. Still not got it? Ok, the second one has depression. It’s on the inside so you can’t see it.
8 – Coaxing
Gentle coaxing is often needed. That means coaxing them to do things. Like eat and breathe for example. I find eating and breathing quite beneficial to living. As do a lot of other people. Depression is caused by a lack of Seratonin in the brain. Vitamin D is good for Seratonin production. Vitamin D is generated by sunlight so the old saying “Get outside, get some fresh air, it will do you good,” is actually quite true.
The Depression though doesn’t like Vitamin D. It’s like garlic or a cross to a Vampire. A killer. Therefore a depressed person won’t go outside. That’s why you have to coax them. Beer and sex work quite well for men. For women it tends to be…actually I’m not even going to speculate on that. Maybe Vampires are just depressed people. Or depressed people become Vampires. Unable to go outside because the sunlight will kill them. Perhaps you shouldn’t feed depressed people Garlic Bread either.
Don’t feed these people Garlic Bread
9 – Mindfulness
I like a bit of Mindfulness. It works wonders. Mindfulness is about living in the moment. Actually living in the moment. Not thinking about it but experiencing it fully. And it starts with the most mundane activities like brushing your teeth or making a coffee. The idea is to stop you from living your life on autopilot while your brain decides what to have for dinner and worries about whether you left the iron on this morning. And it includes relaxation techniques and meditation where you get to lie down for twenty minutes. How brilliant is that? And when I discovered I could lie down and meditate? That was it, I was sold. Sometimes I meditate for an hour. My wife says there’s a difference between meditating and snoring. I say it’s not snoring, it’s a zen Buddhist breathing technique.
And if Mindfulness interests you, click here to find out more.
A Zzzzzzzen Buddhist breathing technique
10 – CBT
Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is a process of changing the way we think and react by rewiring our mind and memories. It works by defining what our rules and beliefs are, isolating these and then working on generating a more positive approach when these rules and beliefs are triggered. Nothing I can say about CBT would do it justice other than it is a wonder of modern thinking. Ok so it’s not cheap, and the NHS currently only offer group therapy sessions which I have never tried and honestly don’t know if they’re better than not having anything. A lot of what I have to say at CBT is personal and private. Quite how that comes out in group therapy I have no idea.
If CBT is something you’re interested in, click here to go to the CBT Register UK
11 – Exercise
Apparently it’s very good for beating depression. I don’t know if it is or not. I can understand the benefits of Vitamin D, Endorphins and Old Dolphins etc. but the last time I was depressed I went out of my way not to exercise. Well, the depression went out of its way to ensure I didn’t even consider such a banal activity. And I’m fine now. I say fine. I mean I only fight in the street three or four times a week, scream my lungs out very occasionally, am awash with medication but they have taken the electronic tag off my ankle, so I reckon I’m all but cured.
Exercise is doing me the world of good
11 – Diet
Sometimes I wish I was one of those depressed people who stop eating when they’re depressed. Unfortunately I’m the opposite. I start eating. Properly. Every day is like an episode of Man v Food and ‘in the ongoing struggle between man and food’ man wins every time. Oh yes, the calories I can consume on a daily basis during the throes of depression would make a Sumo Wrestler think twice about whether he is fully committed to his lifestyle choice. Having said all that, diet is very important. Not dieting. Diet. Nutrition and all that.
How to eat food
I read something recently about the benefits of a good diet on mood and a poor diet on an increase in anxiety. However, if my wife Vikki suggested we should eat more fish for example because of the health benefits then I would flatly refuse. Unless it came from the local chippy and had been deep fried in batter (I don’t do this anymore).
13 – Patience
This goes hand in hand with calmness and relaxation. Patience is something you can’t have too much of. Not if you have a depressed mind in the house. That depressed mind will be trying very hard to test the limitations of your patience and it won’t give up until it has cracked it. So while you’re prodding away at it as in the injured lion scenario, the depression is not so much prodding back as initiating an all out frontal assault, on your patience. And it has limitless reserves of energy for this. A whole body full. So don’t go thinking it’ll give up in a minute because it won’t. If it sees a chink in your armour it’s going to exploit it for all its worth. And you’ll be left thinking, “Wow! Where did that come from?” Depression. It does love a challenge.
Ok, so thirteen wasn’t so dull, in fact it was quite important but don’t tell the Triksaidekawotsname’s, I wouldn’t want them to feel unlucky.
Unlucky for some…
Summary
So there you have it. The 13/10 pointers to helping with depression. Whilst many are not easy to achieve, all of them played a significant role in my ability to overcome my issues to some degree or another. But I wouldn’t necessarily follow my advice. With depression everyone is different. I have it on good authority that people without depression are able to watch Daytime TV without medication, and they do so for entertainment purposes. Because they can. I know. How does that work?
I must say this is a completely alien concept to me but it does highlight the fact that we’re all individuals. Unique even. When Daytime TV loses its charm, appeal and lustre, that’s the best gauge of whether depression is losing the battle or not. You can have all the brain scans and blood tests you like but you won’t get a better indicator than the response you’ll get from the news “Homes Under…” is coming back for a new series.
In 1977 I left school and got myself a job with BOC Datasolve. I say ‘got myself’ a job, like I went out of my way to secure it for myself but in reality, it was nothing like that. What really happened was this:- my mum, bless her, screamed and shouted at me until I capitulated and agreed to find one. Up until then, I was more than happy rolling out of bed at around 10.30, stumbling down the stairs and mumbling, “Wosfa breakfast?” and then being a little put out when my mum didn’t rustle me up a full English.
The Fool
I was a fool back then. Some say not much has changed in that regard but really, I was. I didn’t want a job any more than anyone else did. I was more than happy swanning about doing next to nothing at school. So why did I leave? Primarily because I didn’t understand the rules of life, as applied by my mother. Ergo, you either studied at school or college for a job, or you got a job. There was no in-between. No ‘no-mans-land’, no DMZ, no working on both but doing neither.
Oi loafer! Get a job!
The Land of Grey
It was a very black-and-white approach to life. But I wrongly assumed there was an area of grey in the middle of the Venn diagram. Somewhere where I could exist, neither at school, nor at work. Just surviving, off the grid. But the mystical ‘land of the grey’ was nothing more than a figment of my febrile imagination and consequently only existed in my mind. What I should’ve done was bum around at school for another year, just doing enough to get by but not so much that it was taxing. But boredom clung to me like an old coat. The problem was, my mum soon grew bored of me being at home too.
Shock & Awe
I’d stayed on in the 6th form and passed ‘O’ Level Geology. But by October 1977 I had lost interest in A Levels and decided to leave. Big mistake And about two weeks later, I had a very rude awakening from my Mum. She literally woke me up one morning, quite rudely in fact.
“You’re not lying around here all day every day like a mumper.43 If you’re not at school, you can go and find yourself a flaming job!” she bawled from the end of the bed.
Still in a daze since it was not yet 11, I squinted into the bright daylight streaming through the now open curtains and said, “Can I have a cup of tea first?”
“You can have tea when you get up and not a minute before my lad,” she responded angrily.
“Alright! Alright! I’m getting up.”
The way I intended to live my life didn’t correspond directly with my mum’s vision
Careers Office
So, suitably chastised for my inherent laziness, I alighted from my pit. I phoned my friend Robbie Tucker to see if he had any ideas about work. He was also currently unemployed and as it transpired, was receiving similar earache at home from his own parental incumbents.
“Why don’t we go to the Careers Office in Terminus House and see what they have?” he suggested.
With my Mum firmly on the warpath, it was imperative to be seen to be doing the right thing. I explained the plan to her and she seemed content. For now. At least I’d get dinner on a plate this evening and not over my head. Later, Robbie and I met up, walked into town to the Careers Office, asked at reception what we needed to do to secure some form of employment and the receptionist made an appointment for both of us to see a careers advisor.
I went back a few days later for my appointment and spoke to a woman about what sorts of jobs I wanted and where I wanted to work. I didn’t have enough “O” Levels for a job in banking like one of my friend’s, so I asked about computers, since my brother-in-law was a Systems Analyst (whatever one of those was).44
The beautifully appointed Terminus House, Harlow
BOC Datasolve
She scanned through her Rollerdex card system of current roles and found something that she thought might be suitable.
“Here’s one,” she announced brightly. “It’s in the City,” she said. “With BOC Datasolve,” she added with emphasis. She looked up, over the card. “Are you bothered about working in the City?”
I shrugged. “Should I be?”
“No, not really. It’s just that, well, some people like to work…nearer to home.”
I couldn’t think of anything worse than working near where I lived. Where was the fun in that? I wanted to get out, experience the world. Spread my wings. I just didn’t necessarily want to do it before lunchtime, that was all.
“That’s fine with me,” I replied.
“Ok, good. So it’s a Trainee Data Controller role, in the City with BOC Datasolve. Does it sound like your sort of thing?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, having no idea where the City was, what a Data Controller was or who BOC Datasolve were. “It sounds great.” And then after a moment of hesitation and reflection I added, “What is a Data Controller exactly?” It sounded remarkably like a job for someone who controlled data and data was synonymous with computers.
She stared back and smiled as though her face had frozen into a rictus grin. After a long, uncomfortable pause and still smiling she said, “I knew you would ask me that and I actually have no idea!”
BOC Datasolve -stripes and all
She scanned the card again looking for clues, then looked up and said, “It doesn’t say much else except it’s working in a team in a busy computer bureau. I could contact them and see if they would like to interview you. Is that ok?”
“That’s fine,” I said and she explained she’d be in touch. Potential interview sealed, I could return to sleeping until they got back to me.
Bureau
I never thought to ask what a Computer Bureau was, I didn’t know anything about BOC Datasolve other than they had some type of red and white stripe logo like a drinking straw. I didn’t know how much they might pay me, whether there were any benefits, holiday, sickness; nothing. All I knew was I might have an interview, and that was the one thing that would keep my mum off my back. But of course, that wasn’t enough information to secure such a positive reaction.
Me: “I’ve got an interview.”
Mum: “That’s good. Where?”
Me: “London.”
Mum: “London? Where in London?”
Me: “In the City.”
Mum: “Whereabouts in the City?”
Me: “Don’t know.”
Mum: “How do you know where to go then?”
Me: “Don’t know.”
Mum: “So who is it for?”
Me: “BOC.”
Mum: “BOC? Who are they when they’re at home?”
Me: “Don’t know.”
Mum: “So when’s the interview?”
Me: “Don’t know?”
Mum: “Don’t know? How do you know when to go?”
Me: “Don’t know. It’s doing computers.”
Mum: “Computers? What do you do with ’em?”
Me: “Don’t know.”
Mum: “Well how do they know if you’re any good?”
Me: “Don’t know.”
Mum: “Don’t know much do you?”
Me: “Not really.”
This conversation went on for some time. But later, I overheard my Mum talking to Ivy next door, over the fence. “You’ll never guess,” she said. “My Lee’s got an interview with a company that does computers.” Ivy replied, “Well I never!” “I know,” said my mum. “He’s gonna be a boffin!” They cackled at this, then Ivy said, “Don’t think my Gary’s going to do computers. He likes body building and going to the pub too much.”
A few days later I received a call from the careers office to say they had secured an interview for me and asked if I would I like to attend. A date was set towards the end of October and my Dad kindly offered to take me up in the car. Presumably to ensure I got there on time and to therefore maximise the opportunity of being offered the job, as that would ensure a quiet life for him as well as me.
Old Street tube station – had a record shop in the 70’s so I spent a lot of lunchtimes here
Also, Old Street in EC1, where the interview was to be held, was about a five-minute drive from Eagle Wharf Road where my Dad had worked for many years as a printer, until he got a job on ‘the papers’. He was therefore, well versed in driving into this part of London.
Bib & Tucker
For the interview I wore my best suit and tie which happened to double as my only suit and tie. I got to the office with ten minutes to spare. I walked up from where my Dad had parked just off Old Street and went in. Reception was on the third floor, obviously, and I nervously climbed the stairs and introduced myself. I must have been in a bit of a mild panic because the receptionist Sandra, spent most of the time talking to me, calming me down and telling me Mike, who I was seeing, was really nice and I would be fine.
She was right. Mike Burlingham was a great manager; too good in fact. The interview went really well and we ended up talking about music, favourite bands and how I was starting my own band and learning the guitar. He talked about Elvis Costello being a Computer Operator and writing songs while on shift and suggested I could be next. A few weeks later I received a letter from BOC Datasolve dated the 14th November 1977. It said:-
“Dear Mr Adams,
Further to your recent interview I am pleased to confirm that we wish to offer you the position of Trainee Data Controller to be based at Old Street at an annual salary of £1,704 per annum.”
It was my first and only interview, so I had a 100% success rate. I wrote back, told them I would accept and I started a few weeks later, at the end of November.
Datasolve was a Computer Bureau which had been acquired by the British Oxygen Company and so BOC Datasolve was born. I had a wonderful time there (I really did – it was like going to work with your friends and being paid for it) and to provide a little IT related trivia (even though the term IT hadn’t been invented yet), BOC Datasolve sold computer time on their mainframes to companies that didn’t own their own computers, which in 1977 numbered quite a lot.
88 Old Street. Perhaps I should get a job working for Shelter
48K
BOC Datasolve ran two mainframes from the computer room at the offices in Old Street. The smaller mainframe was an ICL 1904A which boasted a whopping 48K of RAM.45 The ‘monster’ as it was affectionately known, was an ICL 2904, which had a staggering 64K of RAM; but the 2904’s biggest selling point was it came with ‘a monitor’. There was no debate; this truly was cutting edge technology. The mainframes were so big though, they couldn’t all fit it in the computer room. They had to create a purpose-built room in the basement to house the 1904. To provide some clarity on this, my current mobile, a Samsung Galaxy S20 has 8Gb of RAM. Which means in terms of memory, my phone is about 170,000 times larger than the 48k mainframe was.
ICL 1900 Range. The computer room at Old Street looked just like this if you imagine it full up with junk (Note teletype printer – this was pre-monitor days)
That was my first ever job. Proper job. Full-time job. I’d had a paper round since I was 11 and a Saturday job since I was 15.
And it really was the best job I have ever had. Easily. It wasn’t without its downsides though and I decided to leave in 1979 to pursue my career elsewhere.
Working Life
So, fast forward to 1995, 18 years later. By now I had rattled through the following companies:-
BOC Datasolve – 1977 – 1979
Conoco Oil – 1979 – 1980
East Herts District Council – 1980 – 1984
ICL – 1984 – 1987
Harlow Council – 1987 – 1992
Legal Aid Board – 1992 – 1993
BP Oil – 1993 – 1994
CitiBank – 1994
BP Oil – 1994 – 1995
Data Sciences – 1995
The companies in bold above were all as a contractor. The last one on the list, Data Sciences, was working on a client site in Docklands.
Sunbury
I’d been working there for approximately 6 months when one of the managers asked me about my knowledge of Sybase. They were looking to bring in some new business using Sybase Relational Database technology. We had a chat and he suggested we spoke to the team who were looking at the project. They were based in a Data Sciences office in Sunbury-upon-Thames. I didn’t mind. He was driving and it was a day out, so I agreed. Plus, as a contractor, I’d happily shift boxes all day if they were paying me by the hour.
We drove down a few days later, parked up and went in. There was something oddly familiar about the building, about the offices but I’d never been here before. I’d never even been to Sunbury-upon-Thames before either. We sat at a meeting table in the main office and started discussing the project. After a while they started talking numbers and I zoned out momentarily and started looking around. I noted the offices were a little shabby, not unusual for a computer company. And then, sitting on a shelf nearby I noticed some documentation. We had a break and I reached up and pulled the folder down. Looking it over I said to one of the guys sitting nearby, “Do you know what this is?”
“Yes,” he replied. “It’s the documentation for a legacy accounting system. We’re still running it for a few clients.”
I nodded slowly to indicate he should continue. He didn’t. So I did. “So where did it come from and what’s it doing here?” I enquired.
Stripey Lines
He settled himself in for the long haul and considered his response. “Hmm, well…” he mused as he pursed his lips and tapped his chin rhythmically with his index finger. “Where to start? Where to start? Ok, so we’ve been running this system for years. And when I say “years”, I mean, years. It’s one of those systems that was built by some propeller-head in the 70’s and was designed to run for a while and then get upgraded. Except nobody had the time or the money to do it, so we just kept patching the shit out of it to keep it going. Still works though. Mind you, with all the talk of Y2K, who knows how much longer it has.” He furrowed his brow. “Anyway, why are you so interested?”
“Well,” I said, showing him the front cover of the folder. “It’s these red and white candy stripes around the edges. That’s what caught my eye. Why are they on there?”
“Oh, I see. I gotcha. I gotcha. Well, I don’t know all the history but back in the day, Data Sciences used to belong to… Er, who was it? It was…..Thorn. Thorn EMI, I think….Anyway, they split from Thorn, took the old name back, merged with another company called, I dunno, something or other…and voila! became Data Sciences.”
“Oh, ok. That’s…..interesting.” I was interested oddly enough. “And before Thorn?” I ventured. “What happened before Thorn got involved?” I felt sure I already knew the answer.
“Before Thorn?” he mused, glancing at the ceiling. “Well, like I say, I don’t know the history that well, so before Thorn…..before then I’m not actually sure.” He looked around. “Hey Frank?” he said to the person at the next desk. Frank looked up, bored already. “Who owned this place,” he asked, indicating the offices, “you know, before Thorn?”
Frank
Frank sat up, a little more interested since the question wasn’t of a technical, work-related nature. “As I recall,” said Frank, already beginning to warm to the subject, “Thorn EMI bought the company from B…B….BOC….BOC, something….” he said as he tried to dredge up the name from some distant memory bank in his mind.
“Datasolve?” I offered.
“That’s it!” he responded. “Datasolve. BOC Datasolve. Yes! How did you know?”
“I used to work there.” I replied. “Years back.”
“Oh, well, you’ve come full circle then,” he said. “Yes, I remember now. The name Data Sciences came from the merging of the companies Datasolve and Software Sciences. Hence, Data Sciences.”
A small article on how BOC Datasolve became Data Sciences can be found here
Binary Solutions
And there it was. It had taken nearly 20 years, but I had just discovered I was now working for the same company I’d joined in 1977 and left in 1979. Later in the 90’s Data Sciences was acquired by IBM, so I contracted with them until they lost the contract I worked on, to CMG in early 2000. I stayed on and became a ‘permie’ on the 1st Jan 2001 (I joined an IT company on one of the few binary dates available i.e. 01.01.01), then CMG became Logica which then became CGI, and that’s where I continued working until I retired in 2020 at the grand old age of 59. So, technically, I could’ve stayed at Datasolve and still ended up at the same place. It was almost as if there was some greater power at work.
Amdahl
And that is how you work for the same company twice and not even know it. And the odd thing about the Sunbury office? I’d never been there before but the office belonged to Datasolve and in the 70’s, hosted an Amdahl Super Computer46 or something like that. The office (and the Amdahl) used to feature in a Datasolve newspaper we used to receive every month or so. So, it’s no wonder they seemed familiar.
Gene Amdahl – bit too full of himself for IBM’s liking
Canteen
And while we’re on the subject of office coincidences, during the 80’s I worked for ICL (International Computers Limited) and for about a year worked in a computer room in Cavendish Road, Stevenage. In 2007, while working for CMG, I moved onto a project run by Fujitsu…at Cavendish Road, Stevenage. ICL had been bought out by STC in the 80’s and then by Fujitsu in the 90’s. The computer room no longer existed. It had been turned into a staff canteen. And while I was there, I often sat in the canteen, feet up, drinking tea and reading a book. You know, just to relive old times. Happy days.
If you’ve not read Part 1, you can do so by clicking here
Track 2 – “Persephone” – The Girl
In Part 1 of this ongoing saga, you will have learned a little about the 70’s band Wishbone Ash, Aunty Geraldine, David Bowie, The Unholy Trinity and how the CIA invented 70’s Prog Rock (spoiler alert – they didn’t). In Part 2 you’ll discover “Jane with 2”, my Temporal Lobe, more about school, the 70’s and Wishbone Ash.
Annalena
The woman Martin Turner had in mind when he wrote the lyrics to Blowin’ Free was a Swedish girl by the name of Annalena Nordstrom who he had met while in a previous band called Empty Vessels. Playing regularly in and around Torquay in Devon, he met her while she was holidaying with about 200 other Swedish girls. She was from Gothenburg (or Göteberg if you’re a native), tall, blonde and healthy, “unlike me” he recalled.
Gothenberg. Warning – this picture may have been digitally recoloured
Janealena
My personal incarnation of the girl whose hair was “Golden Brown” was a girl at my school by the name of Jane Alldridge. Admittedly, not nearly as exotic sounding as Annalena, but she was certainly no Plain Jane. And she was not to be confused with another girl in the same year called Jane Aldridge, with one “L”. The 2nd “L” in the surname was quite an important and distinguishing factor. However, it wasn’t that I didn’t like Jane “with one L” Aldridge. I did. But not in the way I liked Jane with 2 “L’s” Alldridge.
Also, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. And trust me, at fifteen, I’d seen a few. After all, I was born in the 60’s, and that meant regularly watching singers on TV like Dusty Springfield. What was it about the blonde hair and those panda eyes that I found alluring even though I was only eight? Then there were film actresses like Brigitte Bardot and Raquel Welch to contend with. So, have you seen Shalako or 1 Million Years BC? Well I have, and I have no idea what either film is about because the storyline was never the primary reason for tuning in.
But back to Jane with 2 L’s. To my mind at least, she was perfect in every way. And when I say perfect, I mean in the unblemished manner created in the mind of a fifteen-year-old boy who has serious issues with hormonal imbalances careering around his body and has no idea how to switch any of them on or off. In that way perfect.
But having two Jane Al(l)dridge’s in the same year wasn’t the end of it. To complicate matters further, there was also an Ann Chapman and an Anne Chapman in our year. And they shared the same birthday. We also had Roy Phillips and Colin Phillips, both ginger, who both swore they were brothers (they weren’t).
Lee & Leigh
But the nearest I got to the confusion was me and my friend Leigh Stephens. We sat together a fair bit. In Maths we had a teacher called Mrs Hook who had a wonky eye. Sometimes she’d say “Lee (or Leigh), what’s the answer?” And I’d say “Twenty-two Miss,” And she’d say “Was I looking at you?” And I’d say, “Er, you half were…” at which point she’d bristle and shout “Leigh Stephens! What is the answer?” and he’d reply, “Twenty-two Miss,” and she’d say with a triumphant sigh, “Thank you,” and we’d be able to continue the lesson.
Jane with 2 had hair that was golden brown and not only that it blew free like a cornfield every time we went outside to switch from one class to another.
“She was far away, I found it hard to reach her.”
Not only was she in the same year as me, but we were also in the same class most of the time too. But that was a double-edged sword in reality. The nearer she was, conversely the further away she appeared to be. And she lived in Broxbourne which was miles away from Harlow (but only 10 minutes on the train). Her hair was straight, shoulder length, parted in the middle with a fringe. At the ends it had a light, soft curl to it and it bounced slowly around her shoulders as she walked, just like a Silvikrin advert.
Did Jane use Silvikrin?
Live and Let Die
She was slim, very attractive and reminded me of Jane Seymour in “Live and Let Die”, the 1973 Bond film which happened to be one of my favourite films of all time. Partly because it was a James Bond film, partly because of the humour injected into it by Roger Moore, but mainly because I couldn’t take my eyes off Jane Seymour, or Solitaire, her character in the film. Mind you, taking into account her knowledge of Tarot, I think it’s fair to say she was one card short of a full deck considering Roger Moore was running rings around her with his multiple “Lovers” card routine.
Lovers
Even my rudimentary knowledge (via Google) recognises that the Lovers card represents many things including complimentary energies, love or friendships. It doesn’t mean James Bond is going to come round here and knock you up on a train. Which is what she appeared to think it meant, because that’s exactly what happened. What a victim.
A victim of circumstance, or just a victim? Live and Let Die (1973)
Anyway, Jane with 2 didn’t have any issues with Tarot or Jimmy B that I was aware of, but as she wandered around the school, purposely being casually hot and sexy without ever knowing it, I swooned, even in the middle of winter which is where this story begins and ends. Jane with 2 did have one imperfection, if I can allow myself the indignation of referencing it as such. Jane with 2 wore braces on her teeth and ordinarily this would’ve been enough to invite all manner of mental and psychological abuse like “Hey! Metal Mickey” or “Oi! Robot Gob” but of course Jane with 2 swam in an atmosphere way above the daily abusive activities of the bullies from the 5th Year of Netteswell Comprehensive.
She wandered around the school, purposely being casually hot and sexy without ever knowing it…
Aphrodite
Jane with 2 lived in the rarefied air reserved for the most popular girls in the school, primarily because she was pleasant, attractive, well mannered, considerate (not always), intelligent and worked hard. She was a goddess to me, like a modern-day compendium of Aphrodite and Venus, and possessed all the qualities of both which numbered more than the two key conditions I should have been using to determine who was, and who wasn’t acceptable girlfriend material. Namely, whether 1.) she was female, and 2.) had a pulse. And as I shuffled about the school in my Parka, zip-up cardigan and high waistband flares (oh yes, the boys all loved you but I was a mess) I reflected on heavenly deities of the ancient world and whether Jane and me would ever play Tarot together, on a train or otherwise; I wasn’t fussy.
And what happened when I listened to Argus too often? Certain lyrics crept slowly, under the cover of night, into the deeper recesses of my mind and appeared in my conscious thoughts as if I had imagined the words myself without any intervention from a third party. My mind, as a direct consequence of this, was permanently on red alert when it came to thoughts of Jane.
Compatibility
The human brain is separated into a number sections or ‘lobes’ which deal with different aspects of your personality; for example the Frontal Lobe deals with decision making, whereas the Temporal Lobe deals with memories. Here they are then, as imagined by me, in my head in 1975, having a little chat.
Are you thinking about Jane with 2 L’s Alldridge again?
Frontal Lobe (FL): “Hey, I was just trying to decide on whether to ask Jane out, you know, on a date.”
Temporal Lobe (TL): “Which Jane?”
FL: “Alldridge of course.”
TL: “Is that with one “L” or two?”
FL: “Two.”
TL: “Oh.”
FL: “What do you mean, “Oh”?”
TL: “Well, I mean….you know…”
FL: “No, I don’t know.”
TL: Like, well, is that a good idea? For a start, are you two even compatible?
FL: “Compatible? In what way?
TL: “Well, she lives in a large, detached house with a large garden that overlooks a river in leafy Broxbourne.”
FL: “And?”
TL: “And you live in a small mid-terraced council house with a garden that overlooks the garages in not so leafy Harlow. And you also dress like you lost a bet.”
FL: “So?”
TL: “So what could you possibly offer her that she doesn’t already have, apart from an STD?”
FL: “I don’t have an STD. Do I?”
Speaking Terms
TL: “The point is, why would she even talk to you, let alone go out with you?”
FL: “You’re quite negative, aren’t you. In lots of ways.”
TL: “I’m quite realistic, in lots of ways.”
FL: “Anyway, she spoke to me, in our English lesson.”
TL: “Good grief! She asked to borrow your pen. I was there, remember?”
FL: “Yes but it was the way she asked.”
TL: “You mean directly and without even the slightest flicker of emotion?”
FL: “Oh, you noticed that too.”
Cine Films
TL: “Yes I did. She’s not exactly giving you the “old come on” is she?”
FL: “I’m not entirely sure I know what the “old come on” is if I’m honest.”
TL: “That’s what worries me. But maybe all is not lost. I have some memories here, let’s take a look and see if they can help you decide what’s best.”
FL: “Great, I love looking at old Cine Films.”
How my memories are stored
TL: “Here’s the first one. So, here you are, 5 years old at Broadfields infants school.”
FL: “Who are the other children?”
TL: “That’s Robbie Tucker, Vincent Croft and Jacky Nixon.”
FL: “And who’s the girl with the white handbag?”
TL: “That’s Lorraine Wright. We used to like her.”
FL: “Did we? What did we like about her?”
TL: “You tell me. I only deal with memories, you deal with the decisions.”
FL: “Well, can’t you remember what any of the contributory factors were?”
TL: “It appears not. No.”
FL: “Ok, so what happened next?”
TL: “You decided to tell our next-door neighbour we liked her, she told our brother and sister who ridiculed us for years afterwards.”
FL:” Years?”
TL: “Well maybe not years, perhaps a week. But it felt like years.”
FL: “What did they do?”
Jennifer Eccles
TL: “Hang on just let me bring that online. Ah, here it is. There was a song by The Hollies called Jennifer Eccles and they used to sing it over and over. “Lee loves Jennifer Eccles, la-la-la-la-la-la.” You’d go crazy, and I mean wild, so they’d sing it even more.”
Jennifer Eccles – in the hands of the wrong people this could be a very destructive force
FL: “So, not a good decision by me then.”
TL: “Not one of your better moments, no. Oh. This is odd; the Lorraine Wright memory was from 1966, but the Hollies song wasn’t released until 1968. The dates don’t match.”
FL: “Well, you’re in charge of memories, I’m only in charge of decisions, remember?”
TL: “Hmm, must be a glitch in the matrix.”
FL: “So, was she ever our girlfriend?”
TL: “Doesn’t look like it, I mean I can’t find anything that suggests she was. I think you decided you were too fearful of rejection to allow yourself the possibility of having a girlfriend. Your mantra was, “If you like a girl, act like a rabbit in the headlights of a car.”
FL: “How many girlfriends have we had so far then?”
TL: “So far we’ve had the grand total of…..let’s just count them all up… shouldn’t take long. Here we are. So, we’ve had zero. Zilch. Nil. Nada. None.”
FL: “Ok, don’t rub it in. So why then? Why haven’t we had a girlfriend yet? Is it because we’re a hideous mutant or what?”
Flares
TL: “Well no, although I don’t think the high waistband flares and parka combo are really selling our best assets. Besides, we had a bit of a torrid time when we were young. We had Meningitis when we were 18 months old, spent 6 months in hospital and almost died. That caused complete memory loss and as a consequence serious abandonment issues developed because we’d forgotten who our parents were.”
FL: “Oh.”
TL: Yes, oh indeed. So, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself for acting like a rabbit in the headlights. You have good reasons for making those decisions even if you don’t always know why. Anyway, here’s another memory. Listen to this. ”She told me you can try but it’s impossible to find her…”
Ash Again
FL: “What’s that?”
TL: “It’s a song by Wishbone Ash. And here we are, in our bedroom, playing it on our brother’s turntable. And he’s about to come in and tell us for the millionth time not to touch his stuff.”
FL: “Sounds about right. Tell me about the song.”
TL: “I think it’s about you…well me…us!”
FL: “It is. It’s telling us something isn’t it.”
TL: “Yes, it’s telling you not to be a total fucking bell end again, is what it’s telling you.”
FL: “No! it’s telling me to ask Jane out because not to would be to disavow all my keenly curated knowledge of the human species and the inner workings of the female psyche.”
TL: “No, it’s telling you not to be a fucking bell end again.”
FL: “I’m going to ask her. It’s my destiny.”
TL: “I’ve literally just presented to you the ridicule you exposed yourself to due to your previously poor decision making and here you are carrying on like it never happened! I give up.”
“Not to would be to disavow all my keenly curated knowledge of the human species and the inner workings of the female psyche.”
My Frontal Lobe (1975)
And so, every morning as I alighted for another school day, a disembodied voice whispered in my ear, “In my dreams, everything was alright, in your schemes you can only try.” And suddenly I knew what I had to do.
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