I’m pretty sure my parents came to see Andorra on the middle (Friday) night of the run. And I’m fairly sure the following dialogue (or something like it) took place on the drive home after the show.
MUM: I wasn’t very impressed by some of your school chums in the audience behind us.
ME: What happened, Mum?
MUM: Well, during the interval one of them said to his pals, “I’m looking forward to the bit where Harris has to run around the stage yelling ‘I’m not a Jew, I’m not a Jew.” Then they were giggling. I wasn’t going to let that pass without comment.
ME: Oh, God, Mum, what did you say to them?
MUM: I turned around and asked them why that was so funny. One of the boys explained, “because Harris is a Jew. But he has to run around the stage saying “I’m, not a Jew”. Then the boys giggled some more.
ME: …and then…
MUM: I said, “I’m well aware of all that. I’m his mother and I’ve helped him to learn his lines. I’m just trying to understand what makes it funny.” They went very quiet after that.
ME: Oh, Mum. I’m going to get mercilessly teased on Monday when I get back to school. Or worse. Why couldn’t you just let it go?
DAD: I knew it. I could have told you he’d be upset.
To be fair on the poor boys involved (and I do wonder who they might have been – any confessions?) it was an ironic, rather funny matter. Indeed, with the benefit of hindsight, my casting in the role of the Innkeeper might well have been based more on my physiognomy than my stagecraft. In any case, we cast had all had a bit of a laugh about the irony of me yelling “I’m not a Jew” during rehearsals and I saw little malice in the remarks as reported by my mum.
But to be fair on my mum, although I did get some serious ribbing on the Monday (as recorded in my diary), it was not at all to do with my mother’s intervention. Indeed the poor boys who got my mother’s tongue-lashing were probably more embarrassed than I was about that matter.
No-one would relish a tongue lashing from my mum. Cruel spectacles and cut glass voice to go with them.
No, the ribbing I received resulted from reports of my drunkenness at the after show party on the Saturday.
As to the exact details of my ribbing-inducing party antics, I recall very little. I do remember drinking far too much cheap party cider – a once-in-a-lifetime mistake (drinking cheap cider, not the occasional over-drinking). I think the party was at Tiggy’s house, mostly in a rather large garage/out-house. Or am I am confusing the Andorra party with the Twelfth Night party?…
Others who were a bit older (I was only 15-and-a-half) and a bit wiser (almost everyone else who was there) might recall the Andorra after show party better.
Still, my mother’s parental intervention was a pretty cringe-making one.
Writing forty years after the events (January 2018), I find it hard to recall clearly my jubilant mood in early January 1978.
I returned from my first BBYO Convention is very high spirits.
January 1 – Finished convention. Came home late in evening – had the most terrific time overall.
Indeed, the language in my diary for those two weeks is relentlessly upbeat. Here are the pages. I’ll translate the relevant bits later, for those who struggle to read my beautiful but slightly unconventional calligraphy:
I was a fairly positive kid, but some of the language doesn’t really sound like me – or certainly doesn’t sound like the far more retiring 1977 me. Especially the material relating to club/BBYO:
10 January 1978 – Gave talk at BBYO with Graham on the cartoon. Went down well
Graham Majin and I made a couple of cartoon films in the school holidays 1976 (Basher Rasher) and 1977 (Speare Trek). There’ll be more on Ogblog about those eventually – for the time being click here for a bit more on that.
11 January 1978 – …Committee meeting of BBYO – Fantastic work done, though force 12 gails [sic – surely gales?]
I’m not sure what the “fantastic work done” at the Streatham BBYO Committee might have been that night. My guess is that I was asked to take on some more responsibility for running the club and that I was very pleased with the outcome.
I’m trying to remember who might have been at that committee meeting – an early, perhaps my first, committee meeting. Dave Young I think was in charge by then, although he didn’t go to that convention. Barry Freedman, Dave’s predecessor, was almost certainly there (and had been at convention). Karen Harris was a mainstay of that early committee – (no relation of mine, nor I believe a relation of Jacey’s – there were a lot of separate Harris families in Streatham) – I recall attending at least one committee meeting at Karen’s house – perhaps this meeting. Sue Leyens I think would have been there.
I think some of the original founders of the club, such as Lisa Benjamin (sadly deceased) who had encouraged me to join in the first place, had finished by then. Or were going through the process of handing the club over to the next generation.
Possibly David Heller was at the committee meeting that night; I am pretty sure that David was involved at that time and was (along with me and Barry) at that convention. Most of the people I think of as “my contemporaries” at that club; Sandra, Linda, Ivor, Natalie, Mark, Jacey, Liza A, Andrea, Wendy, Mandy, Martin,…I think got involved a little later, but perhaps some of that group were on the committee by then.
Just a few months later
So what was it about convention over new year 1977/78 that brought on that lengthy bout of optimism and self-confidence?
The diary doesn’t help me on this matter – I simply record, for the days I was at convention, that I was “at convention”. Naturally, I was having such an amazing time, I didn’t write up my diary. In any case, the experience was so unforgettable that it hardly needed writing up…
…did it?…
…I think I might need a little help from my friends, 40 years on, but here is what little I remember.
Harrogate was the location. I saw very little of Harrogate itself, although I did wander far enough from the hotel on one occasion to buy a tin of Harrogate Toffee – click here to see a likeness of the tin – to take home as a small gift for my parents. That tin ended its life, back in my hands, as a sort of ashtray/stashtray – not a dignified ending for a tin of Harrogate toffee. But I digress.
The real point was that convention exposed me to the leading lights, recent past, present and future, of BBYO nationally at that time. They were a pretty impressive bunch – certainly to me at that time but in any case, I think it was probably a golden era of leadership in the British Isles for that organisation.
I met for the first time the Rose brothers (Mike and Jonathan), the Spector brothers, (Martin and the late, much missed Jeffrey), plus David Wiseman, who was elected National President at that convention. Those five were all National Presidents in the mid to late 1970s.
David Wiseman, with chain of office, second left, thanks to David for the picture
I also met many super people from other groups who either were or went on to be local and regional leaders.
I remember being quite overwhelmed by the scale of the convention – I had never been let loose with that many fellow teenagers before. The only people I knew there were Barry and David from my own club; they were older and they seemed to know plenty of people.
I remember Lynda Singer – Stanmore – (latterly Lynda Jackson, also sadly deceased and much missed), perhaps spotting that I was a bit lost, telling me that everyone finds it a bit daunting at first, pointing me in the right direction and offering to help if I wanted more advice. I remember Judy Wolfson – Hampstead Garden Suburb – being similarly older-sister-like that convention – our paths crossed again at Keele but not since.
I remember chatting at length that convention with Sara Wiseman, David’s sister, not realising that she was sister to the President Elect to be. At first she seemed as shy and as daunted by the convention as me.
I remember meeting Paul Corper and Robert Garelick from Cockfosters for the first time, although it was at camp later that year that we formed a bit of a comedy trio. I also remember meeting Drewey for the first time and not understanding any of his jokes…OK I’ve just made that last bit up.
In truth I met dozens of people for the first time there, many of whom I got to know a lot better over the following three years. In truth I don’t remember meeting Terri Phillips (nee Vine) – Stanmore – at that convention but I remember meeting her at events soon afterwards and she has kindly supplied a group photo of all of us for this piece:
I’m standing towards the right hand side…yes I am wearing THAT banana jacket
My injection of optimism, energy and confidence was not restricted to my BBYO activities , btw. I note the following diary entries:
4 January 1978 – went to West End with Graham and Anil – had a good time there.
5 January 1978 – went to BFI library on John’s card – had a good day there.
6 January 1978 – went to Graham’s for the day – played D&D v good…
Cousin John kindly lent me his BFI Membership card – minors are not allowed access to the library. The staff must have known/guessed that I was under age and using someone else’s pass, but they were incredibly helpful and that project benefited enormously from the reading I did there and the help the staff gave me. Respect.
“D&D v good”? Please. I never really got the point of D&D. I remember that Graham, Gareth Mills and some others at Alleyn’s School were really into it. I remember going with the flow of it and clearly I sometimes enjoyed it. But D&D was not really me. Honest.
I also note my references to watching TV starting to diminish as I took on more interests. But that fortnight I did mention:
The Two Ronnies – gosh I remember liking that show – I suspect I’d find the humour simple/childish now but it was good family entertainment;
Coronation Street – which to my mum for many years (long after I tired of it) was as a “family together must” to the same extent as eating. After dinner, the refrain, “watch Coronation Street with us first and THEN go upstairs to do your homework/do your own thing” was quite common;
I also note that Grandma Anne was in hospital in early January that year, but I don’t think her affliction was that serious on that occasion; she must have been 86 or 87 then – she was to live just short of four more years after that.
I also notice that my confidence and upbeat demeanour extended to Alleyn’s School extra-curricular activities by the end of the first week back at school:
Friday 13 January 1978, Got a talking part in the school play – I’m the innkeeper – V pleased
Yes, I was relentlessly upbeat for at least two weeks. Blue Monday hadn’t been invented back then I guess. In any case, I suppose I need to write up week three of 1978 to see what my actual “Blue Monday” mood was like. Still pretty positive I’ll guess. That fine bunch of people from the 1978 BBYO convention had a lot to answer for…in a good way.
A few more memories of that convention from a few other people wouldn’t go amiss. Do be aware, BBYO folk, that comments on Ogblog are public whereas comments on the BBAK Facebook Group are private to the group.
Anyway, the lunchtime special of the day (10 January 2018) in my client’s staff canteen was baked mackerel with onions. Very tasty it was too.
I remembered, so clearly, that my mother’s baked mackerel with onions was one of my favourite dishes.
Awaiting onions
I also remembered that it was one of mum’s “economy meals”. Times were hard in the mid to late 1970s. Mum shopped very carefully to help make ends meet. In addition, she had a routine which was to include one meal per week described as the “economy meal”.
Sometimes it would be a fish economy meal on a Tuesday. Sometimes it would be a meat economy meal on a Wednesday. Monday was leftovers from weekend roast day. Thursday was always fish day. Friday night was friday night. That’s how it worked.
Mum was almost apologetic about the economy meal, but the strange thing is, I used to look forward to them, because the economy meal was often, e.g. the baked mackerel dish, a real favourite of mine.
Thoughts of other “economy meal of the week” dishes started to flood into my head:
stuffed lamb’s hearts – might sound disgusting to those who hate offal or who can only contemplate liver from the offal department, but believe me, after slow braising, stuffed lamb’s hearts are unbelievably tasty. Here is a recipe not dissimilar to mum’s;
baked klops – or meatloaf. Economy in mum’s case because she would basically pad out cheap mince with egg and cereal. There are gazillions of recipes for meatloaf on line, but this “posh klops” recipe – click here – miles away from mum’s economy principles (veal mince…Balsamic vinegar!!) – sounds so very yummy I might give it a try;
salmon rissoles. Now this was an oddity in the economy meal department. Salmon rissoles with tinned red salmon were already occasionally on the agenda for the “regular fish meal” on Thursdays. Tinned pink salmon was much cheaper in those days (if you shop around possibly still is), so mum would sometimes make an economy meal of pink salmon rissoles. I’m not sure I could tell much difference – perhaps a bit more “meaty texture” to the red (Oncorhynchus nerka) species although surely the texture is lost in the tinning and rissoling. Little did I know then that, ironically, I would subsequently do deep, seminal economic research into the Alaskan salmon industry – click here for link to The Economist piece on the subject, although strangely, the pink species, Oncorhynchus gorbuscha, received less scrutiny than the red (sockeye), for reasons far too dull to explain.Here’s a link to a pinko recipe anyway;
When I got home from my meetings, I wondered whether I might have eaten that very baked mackerel dish exactly forty years ago to the day and looked at my old diary. Turns out that 10 January 1978 was a Tuesday, so I might very well have done.
I also realised that Tuesday 10 January would almost certainly have been a “caviar on toast for breakfast…economy meal for dinner” day. Bizarre, but that’s how it was.
What I also learned about that evening, after the second day of the school term, was the following:
gave talk at BBYO with Graham [Majin] on the cartoon. Went down well.
Ah yes, the cartoon. I really need to try to patch that thing together digitally. Graham’s attempt, a few years ago, to get the BBC properly to copy the 8mm film itself shredded the celluloid. Another Ogblog project to add to the list. Watch this space.
Anyway, all that foodie memory came flooding back simply as a result of tasting baked mackerel again in a style so similar to my mum’s…
I started avidly listening to contemporary (late 20th century) music towards the end of 1977. Until then, apart from an early burst of enthusiasm for it in the late 1960s, when I was a very wee nipper, I had listened almost exclusively to classical and middle-brow music.
Friends, neighbours and family helped me out by lending me records and cassettes. As did the Streatham Library. I would scrape the recording onto reel-to-reel tape and then listen to it a great deal.
I shall document some more of my “discoveries” over time, but I have recently (December 2021 as I write) rediscovered one of those recordings that I thought was lost.
All I had written on the reel was “Animals Live 1963” and/but that spool was completely unplayable when I tried to digitise it in the late 2000s. I searched on line, at that time, but to no avail.
While researching something completely different the other day, I discovered the following upload, made in 2018, which is it.
If you like that sort of music, it really is rather good and captures the vibe of live blues-infused pop/rock of that era. If you don’t like that sort of music, it should nevertheless sound quaint and might be interesting for you.
I especially like the bit, at c15’50”, when Eric Burdon explains that he is going to remove his helmet so he can shake his head “like The Rolling Stones”
The sound quality of the above link is much better than my scrape from a Streatham Library recording (which I think was in cassette rather than record format).
The other thing to say is that the recording I had was only the first six tracks, which are The Animals without guest. The above recording has 10 additional tracks with Sonny Boy Williamson as guest artist.
Anyway, I couldn’t allow the inadvertent finding of this recording pass without noting it and embedding it as a link in Ogblog. Enjoy.
I had wondered, when looking at the photo batch, whether I had got some negatives mixed up, as it looked to me as though some pictures of my dad in Brighton had got mixed up with a day trip to Greenwich.
But the diary reminds me that we went to Greenwich twice, going to Brighton on the day in-between.
That summer was the first time in my childhood that we had no family holiday.
Dad must have been very short of money at that time – the business had been doing badly for a few years by then. Dad probably couldn’t justify the expense of getting someone else to run the photographic shop for any amount of time during those commercially better end of summer weeks, even if he could have afforded the holiday itself…which he probably couldn’t.
So he/we simply took a long bank holiday weekend – I suspect he just kept the shop closed until the Thursday.
I have done this as a photo piece using the picture captions to tell the tale; I think the pictures themselves tell most of the story.
Dad in the Trafalgar Tavern, 29 August 1977
The diary suggests that we very much enjoyed our lunch at the Trafalgar Tavern.
Me in the Trafalgar Tavern, 29 August 1977
Probably we enjoyed the lunch so much so that we didn’t get to see all the things we’d intended to see in Greenwich that day.
Cutty Sark, 29 August 1977
Old Royal Naval College – 29 August 1977 – seemingly taken from a boat – how many times did I see that glorious panorama from the deck of a boat in later years?
29 August 1977 was a beautiful sunny day by the looks of it
29 August 1977 – Old Royal Naval College in the sunshine
On 30 August, we went to Brighton. Only three photos from there that day – all of my dad being blown or blowing in the wind:
Dad being blown around in Brighton, 30 August 1977
Dad blowing in the wind, Brighton, 30 August 1977 – I like this picture a lot.
We clearly decided to return to Greenwich to finish our sightseeing on 31 August. We took lunch in the Cutty Sark this time, which I don’t think we liked as much as the Trafalgar Tavern back then, if I am reading between the lines of my diary correctly.
The weather looks miserable in the 31 August pictures, as does my mum:
Dad and Mum, the latter looking wet and cold, in Greenwich, 31 August 1977
Dad and Mum, the latter looking wet and cold, in Greenwich, 31 August 1977
The diary entry is pretty blasé about this momentous day:
Went to test match. Mostly rained off etc. V good what we saw (Graham and I).
I’m pretty sure this was my first ever day at the test. But it seems that I was so laid back in those days, perhaps my first one entirely passed me by.
Graham Majin and I had spent a great deal of that summer together making our second animated film, Speare Trek. More on Speare Trek will appear on Ogblog in the fullness of time. (Including a link to the film once I work out a way of digitally patching it back together again). We’d finished filming earlier in August and I think (reading between the lines of the diary) the last of the rushes had returned to us from the processing lab earlier in the week of this test. Younger readers will need a glossary and a book on the history of film to understand what on earth I’m on about.
Anyway, one of Graham’s uncles was a journalist who tended to be given test match tickets for the Oval. A pair of hot test tickets for the Saturday filtered down to us.
I have a few good memories of the day. I remember the Australian players wandering around and chatting to the few hardy souls (which included me and Graham) who stuck around in the hope of cricket.
The Aussies had been beaten up in the test series (they were an insurmountable 3-0 down before this test started). They were also, unbeknown to us, riven by the Kerry Packer business, news of which was soon to break. Yet still they did their bit for the attendees. Respect.
I especially remember Kim Hughes as part of that wandering, sociable pack; I also remember some young women, near us, drooling over Hughes. Graham and I wondered what he had that we lacked.
Graham late summer the year beforeMe late summer the year before: trophy but no cigar
Despite our extreme youth, the crowd-deprived bar folk of the Oval seemed only too happy to serve us beer. Thems was different times. I do not recommend that 14/15 year old readers try to emulate our behaviour.
But the central character of the day was Bob Willis. Renowned as a terrible batsman (he famously once went out to bat without a bat), he scored 24 not out in this innings, almost his personal best. After the innings break, he then took a wicket before stumps were drawn.
Graham and I still had beers in our hands when stumps were drawn and certainly weren’t inclined to drink quickly or rush away from the ground, so we stuck around a while before wandering down to the Oval tube station.
When we got down to that southbound platform, there, with his cricket coffin, was Bob Willis. We asked him where he was going. Bob explained that he had friends in Streatham and was going to stay with them for the Sunday – a rest day back then.
I don’t remember where the conversation went after that, nor indeed exactly how we all went our separate ways, each to subtly different parts of Streatham.
Graham might remember, but I doubt it. Bob’s even less likely to remember.
Meanwhile, that sighting of Bob Willis on the underground has gone down in King Cricket/Cricket Badger folk lore as the very pinnacle of “cricketer spotted” activity – click here for recent (at the time of writing) validation – an accolade indeed.
But then my eye landed on my entry for Tuesday 23 August:
BBYO in evening. Boring talk on tractors again.
This got me thinking.
I recall some boring talks at our club (Streatham BBYO), but I don’t recall any on the subject of tractors. Further, I cannot imagine that the organising committee would have made the mistake of arranging, more than once, the same boring talk about tractors.
Who was on the committee at that time? I’m struggling to remember and might need a little help from my friends.
Dave Young was our President at that time, leading us to the granting of our charter to be a fully-blown club in the BBYO sphere. Dave was famous throughout the Nation for announcing himself at regional and national gatherings thus:
Dave Young…(raises arm to nose; visibly wipes nose with sleeve while audibly sniffing)…Stea’ham.
Other committee members back then? I can only recall a handful:
Karen Harris (no relation),
Sue Leyons (not 100% sure of the spelling),
the late lamented Lisa Benjamin – probably the person who did the most to persuade me to start going to club in the first place,
I’m sure there were others…help!
I think I joined the committee at the end of that year or possibly early the following – I had only been going to club a few months by then, I think. A more comprehensive go through my diaries will no doubt reveal more.
Anyway, my point is, that was not a bunch of people who, to my mind, would have been disposed to arrange talks about tractors. Nor would they have been daft enough to repeat the dose after, perhaps by chance, making the mistake of booking a speaker who turned out to be, obiter dicta, tractor-obsessed.
No.
This leaves two possibilities:
that the phrase “boring talk about tractors” was, at that time generally or in our circles specifically, a euphemism for a tedious speech on any subject. I do recall years later, when involved in Regional and National programming, that Richard Marks used to refer to a “talk about Bejam” ( a frozen food retailer located near Richard’s home club of Pinner) as his archetype for poor club programming. But I always assumed that Richard’s archetype was based on a genuine experience;
the phrase written in the diary does not read “tractors” but is in fact an attempt to write some other word. It has been said that my handwriting is less than perfect and some (lesser beings) find it hard to read. Perhaps someone out there can translate my hieroglyphics or can spot the error and work out the intended word.
This is not the most interesting or pressing puzzle in my life at the moment – nor in yours (if there is anyone out there still reading at this juncture).
But I would like to capture some more memories of that early Streatham club committee and would be fascinated to hear any other recollections (from within the Streatham gang or from those from other BBYO clubs who who came across us) of that early era of our club.
On the road to Rayagada, in Odisha (formerly Orissa) State, India. I could tell you a story or two about our travels there…click the photo of you are curious
I was reminded of this 1977 impromptu summer holidays outing at a recent (November 2017) gathering of the old school clan – click here or the link below:
Not only did both Andrew and Fiona Levinson come up in the conversation that evening, but I realised, when the 1977 Billingsgate visit popped into my head, that the venue, The Rajasthan Restaurant, is just across the road from the old Billingsgate Fish Market. Weirdorama.
Here is the relevant page of my diary. Not much going on at that stage of the summer…
This was the first year I didn’t go away with my parents during the summer school holidays since I was a toddler. I don’t think dad had the money for a holiday that year – business was not good.
That 1p will have contributed handsomely towards my bus fares and stuff.
On the Friday, the diary notes that I:
went out with Andrew, Fiona and Valerie (pen friend from France). No 23 in evening.
No 23 was my grandmother (of kalooki fame)’s flat. There was a three line whip for the family to gather and no kalooki on a Friday night. Don’t be ridiculous. On the sabbath? No, no, no. Kalooki was a Sunday thing.
What Andrew, Fiona, Valerie and I did on that Friday is lost in the bowels of my mind, so unless one of the others reads this and knows (please chime in if you do) the nature of the Friday activity will be lost for ever in the mists of time.
The Saturday diary entry is more explicit:
went to Billingsgate first thing with Andrew, Fiona and Valerie.
I do recall making a very early start of it and venturing out to Billingsgate with my camera in hand.
Old Billingsgate, dapper head gear
Left to right: two fishmongers, Andrew, Fiona, Valerie
Andrew pondering the price of fish as we leave Billingsgate
Who would have thought back then that I would end up writing a book on commerce, The Price Of Fish, using a multitude of fishy examples, some of which were spawned all the way back then at Billingsgate – click here or below:
But I digress…
…let us return to the 20 August outing. We clearly did a little more sightseeing before we went home – click the link below for the whole photo roll, which is available for all to see on Flickr – click here or below:
As a footnote, I’d like to make it clear that our behaviour with Fiona’s pen friend from France was exemplary, showing her the sights, sounds and smells of Old London Town and generally being hospitable.
The Slipped Disc days were earlier. My trawl of my diary yields two diary references to visiting the Slipped Disc with Paul Deacon:
Wednesday 10 August 1977 – went to Slipped Disc with Paul. Bought 72 records for 72p
Then a couple of months later:
Saturday 8 October 1977 – went down to Slipped Disc with Paul. Bridge in evening
I probably need to provide some context to the mention of 72p. Back in 1977, my parents would give me 10p a week pocket money. Grandma Anne would give me 50p in a week when I saw her, but that was expected to be “saving money” for big things. (I’m still not sure what such big things are, which probably explains why I remain reluctant to buy things. Just in case they aren’t big enough.)
I could supplement my 10p a week “frittering money” by:
saving a bit from my school fare by walking some of the way;
winning at Kalooki against mum and Grandma Anne on a Sunday. On average, I tended to be up a few pence when we played, but of course I’d lose sometimes too;
in the summer I could occasionally earn a penny per weed to relieve dad of that particular arduous task.
In short, 72p back then was real money to me. But 72 discs was a real haul too.
Singles wasn’t really my thing, to be honest (more albums, me), but my goodness singles was Paul Deacon’s thing. I’m not sure how formative these Slipped Disc trips were in his astonishing career as a collector, archivist and DJ – Paul might choose to explain that for himself.
I mentioned in my discussion with Paul on the Record and Tape Exchange business, that I planned to write about The Slipped Disc this weekend and Paul said:
I look forward to revisiting the ‘Disc. Here’s a comment online that resonates. He mentions Melodisc. We picked loads between us didn’t we?
Sadly, not all of my Slipped Disc purchases seem to have made it to my log and/or collection. Only 34 Slipped Disc ones are catalogued and that must cover several visits.
I might just have a box of uncatalogued singles somewhere or they might not have made it from the house. I’ll have a look in the flat, but I don’t hold much hope. For example, what became of my copy of Bulgarian Betrothal by…whoever on earth did Bulgarian Betrothal? Most of those that didn’t make it were probably truly awful. Some of those that did make it are a bit embarrassing to be honest, although Hard Work by John Handy had me grooving and syncopating in my chair just now.
The first six deserve a mention, though, not least because the first five will also be Slipped Disc purchases, but those made by my dad some years earlier, when in search of music to use as backing tracks for films. The Wailers record is quite rare, I think. They probably all are. Goodness knows what dad would have paid for those in old money. Probably 1d each. Maybe a ha’penny each.
Record 6 in the collection was the very first record I owned. Simon Smith and the Amazing Dancing Bear by the Alan Price Set. Bless.
I’m really hoping that Paul will chime in with some more memories of these visits. I’m also going to send a link to the Clapham Junction nostalgics who hang out together on Facebook to see if we can generate some additional chat about the amazing record shop that was The Slipped Disc.
