"He can fly...
He can fly.
He flewed."
1977. The Silver
Jubilee. Punks are on the offensive – in every sense of the word. It feels like the old musical dynasties are about to be blown away. A truly catalysing
time. But I’m six. So you’ll find me listening to Disney read-along records.
As the police
were raiding the Sex Pistols’ boat party on the Thames, I was round my friend
Richard’s house swapping the Jubilee mug and silver coin we’d been given at
school for Star Wars cards.
It seemed like the whole neighbourhood was partying in Richard's back garden. We played darts. Not proper darts. Those Velcro® ones. That’s about all I remember. If anyone from the BBC is reading, feel free to use any of these glorious recollections in your Jubilee documentaries.
It seemed like the whole neighbourhood was partying in Richard's back garden. We played darts. Not proper darts. Those Velcro® ones. That’s about all I remember. If anyone from the BBC is reading, feel free to use any of these glorious recollections in your Jubilee documentaries.
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