joemercersaces
Well-Known Member
How things change. A couple of days ago I drove through the tight, terraced streets at the back of the old West End (never, for me 'West Terrace'), scene of many a running battle in the early 70s. How I loved the West End then, the packed Cov mob behind the goal, the away fans a gangway away, coppers between. It kicked off every week unless we were playing QPR, Ipswich or Norwich. Sometimes we were surrounded, occasionally overrun and sometimes heroic. Medieval battles on Gosford Green, police horses charging. And the deafening noise under that roof!
All to a soundtrack of growing up to Bowie. My old man couldn't stand him. Feather cuts everywhere, along with the tank tops, Oxford bags and wedges. Older fans may share some of the sense of loss as a part of my teenage self dies. RIP Starman.
All to a soundtrack of growing up to Bowie. My old man couldn't stand him. Feather cuts everywhere, along with the tank tops, Oxford bags and wedges. Older fans may share some of the sense of loss as a part of my teenage self dies. RIP Starman.