The morning sees a bleary-eyed catch-up with a few mates as the train crawls into town, stalling interminably outside Grove Park. Too tired for conversation. Keeping up with the Smithers-Joneses, avoiding the Mr Cleans. I take what I can get.
We get regular bomb scares now, which means searching the racks for suspect devices. It does have some perks, a discount on clothes for starters and decent money — enough to keep up the payments on a new Vespa PX Lunchtimes I leg it down to Chappells in Bond Street and check out guitars. On the shop floor there is a maze of twenty or thirty carousels loaded with ties. Yves Saint Laurent, Cardin, Balmain; silk, polyester, wool; paisley, polka dot, plain, stripe, regimental or just mental.
You get the picture. A lot of ties. You find a similar shirt, match ties, makes sales. Only the boss is on commission. I serve a couple of customers. I finish with one, then I see this guy checking out the ties. Nah, he wants something more classic. In the end we settle on a club stripe, mid-blue and brown silk. He pays. Over at the cash desk.
Question is, do I ask for an autograph? The Jam always meant more to me than just the records and gigs. The energy and togetherness of the band and audience live was something else. But I also got a scrap of self-belief which otherwise in those days was hard to come by. Some memories are worth trying to protect, keep safe. And whether you take your opening cue from the style, the scooters, the music, the dancing, the credo, the friendships, or all of the above, the deal is what you do with it.
Where does it take you and where does it leave you? If it ever does. Anonymous 24 June at Nick Triplow 24 June at Tony Fletcher 13 August at Nick Triplow 13 August at September 27, Richard Widmark in Night and the City I was lucky enough to join the exodus north to the glorious city of Stirling last weekend for the Bloody Scotland crime writing festival for the panel, The Legacy of Brit Noir. All in all a fantastic weekend with some interesting and thought provoking debate, great scenery, a healthy dose of end of the pier entertainment, and a few beers with old and new friends.
For the most part, the Brit Noir panel covered ground we knew well: in brief, an attempt to define noir in the US and European tradition, how the genre in Britain emerges from an influx of European artists, writers and film makers in the s and 40s and, similarly, blacklisted writers and film makers forced to leave the US in the s.
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