“Really damn boring at college all day. Went to Lawbak’s Hi-Fi show – not bad. Went up Holly’s house in evening”
The life of a 17-year old eh? “Boring at college”… I have no idea what that really means, but maybe all teenagers go through it?
It’s a shame that I had return to my ‘blogging ways’ with such a boring mundane entry… sorry about that… just as I am for letting the project lapse for the past few months. Long story that I won’t bore you with right now.
I tried to research them, but it’s weird that a retailer like Lawbak’s – a regular advertiser in the back of the hi-fi magazines as I recall – seems to have absolutely no reference online whatsoever. I do remember that companies like Lawbak would hold regular little hi-fi exhibitions at the main hall of the Fleming Park Sports Centre in Eastleigh, and that, sad little sack that I was, I would attend almost all of them.
“Cycled into E’leigh. Got money out of Halifax and bought Dad’s present”
There’s that ‘cycling’ thing again.
The beauty of youth.
Dad’s birthday is tomorrow… want to know what present I got him?
It will probably make you laugh.
“Finished painting in morning. Went into E’leigh in afternoon.”
The rampant unbridled hedonism of my teenage youth continues.
“Asked out Viv. Went to see Juggernaut. Crap Film“
Vivienne – or Viv – was a girl who lived a few streets away from me in Fair Oak. She also attended Barton Peveril and caught the same bus home as me from college every day… which was how I first got chatting to her, eventually building up enough courage to ask her out on a date.
Our first date was an inauspicious affair, the choice of film a dodgy ‘disaster’ movie, somewhat portending the future of our relationship.
“Juggernaut” is one of director Richard (“A Hard Day’s Night”) Lester’s least-know films. Least known for a reason I reckon? Irish firebrand actor Richard Harris hams things up as an explosives expert given the responsibility to diffuse a series of terrorist bombs planted on a transatlantic cruise liner. Omar Sharif plays the suave ship’s captain, Anthony Hopkins plays a Scotland Yard detective trying to locate the perpetrator, whilst light relief is provided by Roy Kinnear. As thrillers go, it was all very silly stuff indeed, my review succinct.
However, I doubt my mind was completely on the movie? First date and everything. Should I put my arm around Viv in the dark? Hold her hand during the scary bits? Will I get to snog her later? Cop a feel maybe? Too soon?
One thing that occurred to me after all these years is that dates back then were rarely – if ever – of a (nowadays more commonplace) “dinner and a movie” variety…mainly because in 1975 there were next to no places to go and eat. Not even fast food joints – they didn’t hit the UK until many years later. Eastleigh did sport a couple of dodgy cafés but I never took girls to either, and I doubt I would have (yet) had the confidence to take Viv into a pub for a drink, still being theoretically underage. (Pubs didn’t do food back then either). So the date was purely the trip to the cinema – maybe an ice lolly during intermission? – and then back on the bus to Fair Oak. Classy eh?
Remember too that were no such things as multiplexes back then either. The choice of viewing at the Eastleigh Regal would have been “Juggernaut” or… erm… “Juggernaut”. There may a new film next week, but this week it was 100% “Juggernaut”. What a depressing thought.
“Saw Angela – Went up her house – not in”
Certain things I remember.
This I remember.
I bumped into Angela whilst I wandered round the streets of Eastleigh and we arranged, or so I thought, to meet up a little later at her house. (Rather, her parents house)
I can’t imagine I wasn’t excited by the prospect… for all the reasons that a hormonal 16-year-old boy would be.
However, it appeared she had a different agenda.
She was not there.
“Went into Eastleigh. PM Music session”
So, I went into Eastleigh during the day and must have decided it was time to get the band back together again.
A collective sharp intake of breath followed by a sigh of expectant hope was doubtless expressed by the music industry.
In Jamaica, Island Records boss Chris Blackwell receives a call…
“Hello Chris, this is your A&R director here. We want to advise you against this U2 band from Dublin – instead we’re recommending a power poop trio from Hampshire consisting of a piano player who can’t play a note, a talentless acoustic guitarist and a 14-year-old bongo player. We’re thinking a 12-album deal and guaranteed 47½% residuals. They could be the next Rush”
I’ll openly admit I had to look this up, not knowing what the hell my entry referred to.
A google search eventually managed to jog my memory as what album I bought. I remembered the sleeve when I saw it…. but absolutely nothing else whatsoever.
Further research informed me that Bradley’s Roadshow was a concert album showcasing some of the peculiarly diverse acts on the short-lived Bradley Record label, which was an offsoot of the more famous ATV music publishing group.
Apparently, the acts on this album were Paul Brett (a guitarist), Hunter Muskett (a folk-rocker) and Kala (a prog-rock act). No I haven’t heard of any of them either.
I have no doubt in my mind that I bought this album based on the retail price of just 95p – indeed, I may have even bought it cheaper from the clearance bins near the front door of Jack Hobbs’ record shop in Eastleigh.
If Jack Hobbs were still in business I suspect there would STILL be copies of this album gathering dust somewhere on the premises.
“last nite went to see Canterbury Tales – dirty but boring”
I vaguely remember taking “Angela” to this movie at the Regal in Eastleigh.
Remember that scene in “Taxi Driver” where DeNiro’s “Travis Bickle” character takes Betsy (Cybil Sheppard) out on a date to a porno movie in New York and she is throughly appalled by it all?
Somehow, I get the feeling that Angela may have responded to “Canterbury Tales” – and thus me – in an entirely similar manner.
Whilst its true that Geoffrey Chaucer’s original 14th Century collection of stories is something of a slog to read, I think its fair to say that Italian director Pasolini’s interpretation of 8 of them could be considered a ‘travesty’. Poking fun at social graces, the film includes scenes of sodomy, incest and more, all presented with copious levels of nudity.
For a ‘boyfriend’ I must’ve been a real bloody prize.