It is 30 June 1979. I am 16 years old, and waiting , along with my Boys’ Brigade compadres, at Glasgow Central station to board a train to London, our ultimate destination Adelboden in Switzerland.
But who is that over yonder? Ah, it’s Jimmy Pursey, Paul Cook and Steve Jones – the ‘Sham Pistols’, if you will – fresh from their triumphant gig the previous evening at the Glasgow Apollo. Whipping out my copy of Sounds I approach the Hersham Huxter and ask him how the gig had gone. I don’t catch his response, although it sounds strangely like ‘Fakkin’ awful!’ He signs my Sounds with his trademark ‘Fanx’ and I return to await the train. At some point during the journey, Cook or Jones or maybe Pursey runs through our carriage covered in flour or talc with one of the other two chasing him with a walking stick.
Your own recollections of the Sham Pistols, please, or perhaps your own brushes with rock’s B-list…
http://s800.photobucket.com/user/noboruwataya5/media/P1070112_zps0qduog03.jpg.html
http://i800.photobucket.com/albums/yy283/noboruwataya5/P1070112_zps0qduog03.jpg
Shecht.
Sorted for you. You need to use the ‘direct’ option, out of the choices that appear to the right. Don’t ask me why. #wevealldoneit
Thanks, Lando.
This morning I had a brief chat with Doc Cox about “record collector’s knee” as we knelt side by side on our cushions, digging through some car boot vinyl. I really wanted to tell him that I’d seen an Ivor Biggun LP earlier in the week, but thankfully decided at the last second it wouldn’t be cool.
Now that’s a brush with greatness!
A Cushion!
Wow, that’s dedication right there.
A cushion?
Today’s record browsers have gone soft. We had to kneel on gravel and broken glass in my day.
Gravel & broken glass? Luxury! We had to stand on spikes over a pond of man-eating crocodiles. While we were on fire.
Fire? You were lucky. They used to kill us as we entered the boot fair, bury our bodies in a pit of quicklime and dance around on our graves singing “Hallelujah” (the Leonard Cohen version, obvs).
OMG @noboru. ! In the summer of ’78 – World Cup year – I too travelled from the outskirts of Glasgow with my Guide company, to Adelboden in Switzerland. We did the whole bloody journey on a bus. With no toilet…..
We stayed in one half of a big chalet, the other half housing a German Youth group. It remainsone of my fondest young memories.
8 years ago, I holidayed in Switzerland and, realising I wasn’t far from Adelboden, I took a train there. It had hardly changed and I was amazed how much I remembered. I even remembered the road from the town to where our chalet was situated. I had a lump in my throat, feeling I’d travelled 30 years back in time. Which I pretty much had.
I loved the Guides. I seized every opportunity the thrust my way. And there were plenty. Those fabulous women who looked after our troop were heroes. I met my old Guide Captain a few years ago and excitedly told her my Adelboden revisited story. She remarked “you’re exactly like your 12 year old self”. We both smiled the smile that only the young uniformed know. You’ll know it too.
Thanks for making my day. ❤️
I loved BB. Not as popular as it was in the 70s and our local company back home is sadly no more. Sure and Steadfast. Happy days.
I dropped a can of Newcastle Brown on the right foot of John Hawkin (once of the Nashville Teens) outside the Kelvin Hall in Glasgow, prior to him appearing on kybds with Strawbs on their Hero & Heroine tour. He still gave me his autograph.
Sang at The White House to Ronnie & Nancy
Sang at St James’ Palace to The Queen Mum (lavender hobbit and charming)
Same swimming pool cleaner as John Lennon, albeit a few years later.
Not quite I know, but in my advancing dotage makes me smile.
I once asked Billy Idol for his autograph before a “Gen X” concert at Wakefield Unity Hall. He responded by curling his lip and sneeringly telling me to “Faaawwk Off”. A little something died in me that night.