Why Are The Seventies So Special? Good times and great memories.

It was my brother Mike who first got me keen on pop music. He used to buy his singles on a saturday morning and I'd wait for him to return home to play them on our little case record player. I will always remember his sensible words when I told him I thought Steve Harley was rubbish because he could not sing. He told me 'nothing is rubbish if somebody likes it'. From then on I listened to music in a complete different way.

Friends came and went, Steve Fordham was my right hand man in many of our escapades some of which i can't talk about until the statute of constraints runs out. We'd fish down Tottenham Locks and go adventuring together though I do not understand why we probably did get on because he used to enjoy me being in pain especially the time when we were given caught scrumping in someone's garden and a dog was put on us. Steve flew over the wall but I strived being a touch smaller.

I was there, attempting to pull myself up over the wall with a dog hanging on my trouser leg. I believe Steve must have been close to wetting himself that day.
We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sunshine though it was a sorrowful day when he moved up to Burnley and my father would not even let me have a sleepover for his yesterday evening.

Life was good for a few years until my pa met someone and got remarried.
With her came 3 more boys. Are you able to imagine it ? Six boys in one house.
So goodbye Leyton, hi Stratford.

The worse thing about this move was that I had to share a room with her youngest and he used to be a scattering with an especially fast fiery temper. I can remember coming home and finding all my things thrown out the window and laying in the back garden with my valued cuddly bear impaled on the garden fence.
These were tough times for me and my brothers as she dominated the roost and the stereotypical step-mother held court.

Things were not all bad though. We generally got on with the brothers Steve, Graham and Colin, the youngest, but the bonus was the comradeship of Gary the kid from next door.

Out of all of the years living there the best year has to be 1976.
It was the year when the sun didn't stop shining all summer and the vacation we had down in Looe, Cornwall was the best holiday i'd ever had. Cornish Pasties were the food of the god's and sweetest love matured. Everything was just going great. Gary and me spent all summer catching the 69 bus to Beckton lido with our crew playing about in the pool, and to cap it all I'd finally managed to get back in contact with my old buddy Steve and arranged a trip up to Burnley for Christmas.

It got so new and exciting traveling up there on the national coach as I had never been away from home on my own before. When I arrived Steve was there waiting for me and the welcome I got from his mummy and family just about made me cry.

We partied all over the place and that was like being a celeb. The girls would continuously ask me to claim different words in my cockney accent,. You didn't hear me bitching. I can remember one party particularly because they really stopped it to look at Starsky and Hutch!

The Christmas week culminated at the Cat's whiskers for New Years Eve and we danced all night to the likes of Rose Royce, Leo Sayer and Candi Staton finishing the evening off with John Christie's Here's to like.

It was a great end to probably the best year of my life.

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