Bill gave me a link to a music site which set off a veritable Proustian avalanche of memories.The problem is, I have been telling my daughters for yonks that when I was their age, I worked hard at school, went to bed early and was more interested in reading Lyrical Ballads and listening to William Byrd than experimenting with make-up and fantasising about pop stars.
Wot a load of tosh. When I clicked on 1972 – I was 13 then – it all came flooding back. How many nights did I spend listening to Radio Luxembourg under the covers, waiting to hear if Without You by Harry Nilsson was number one again? How many bottles of Strongbow cider did I down with my friend Graham whilst swaying/falling over to the Moody Blues or the Stylistics? (probably a quarter of a bottle)…I was even allowed to go to the disco at the local secondary modern school on a Friday night where I drank Vimto as if there were no tomorrow and danced to the O’Jays and The Jackson Five. I was a wearer of mini skirts, hot-pants and platform shoes; I spent my pocket money on Anne French Deep Cleansing Milk, Hint–of-a-Tint shampoo, gonks and Jackie magazine. I was in love with a Hell’s Angel who chatted me up in the Milk Bar – and also with Marc Bolan and Dave Kynaston, the Head Boy at school.
No, honestly – in the name of Bill Withers – who am I to judge?
