“Leicester 1 City 1” / “
Bloody couldn’t get Moving Waves – no bloodyshops had it” / “Bort Record Rack” / “Dun lot of copying up and homework”
Could it be that this one day provided some kind of deep-rooted emotional basis for running my own store later in life? That need, maybe, to try and make sure customers did not suffer the same kind of utter bloody frustration as I did when trying to buy “Moving Waves” in 1973?!
It seems I instead settled for a “record rack” although – as is usually the case (something which regular readers MUST be getting used to now?) – I can’t remember anything about it. A box? A wire-framed storage rack? Neither? We’ll never know, because I’ll never know.
There’s that reference to “copying up” again. Yep, wish I knew.
The crossing out of the swear words were mine. Embarrassingly at the insistence of my father who – in a rare moment of not allowing me to express myself and do my own thing – sat me down one evening and told me I had to cross out all instances of swearing in my diary.
Which means that, yes, he must have read it.
Or maybe, thinking about it – and perhaps a little more likely as Dad has always respected my privacy – he was reacting to my Mum complaining to him about the language I was using because she had found and read it whilst cleaning?
Oh, the indignity.