Day 3 of "Before Amnesia" - more random memories........
I remember seeing Butch Cassidy and the Sundance
Kid at the Broadway cinema on the Falls Road, Belfast and when Sundance said he
couldn’t swim, I knew how he felt.
I remember watching in complete awe the TV coverage
of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on the moon.
I remember my first bookcase, an oranges crate
retrieved from the shop across the road.
I remember hearing about a tough guy from Belfast
called Buck Alec. He kept a lion in his back yard. I had a dream once that the
lion was chasing me and Buck was chasing the lion.
I remember liking the smell of pipe tobacco but not
liking cigarette tobacco, in spite of my earlier ‘death’s door’ experience.
I remember my mother throwing her slipper at the TV
because the Reverend Ian Paisley was shouting something or other that she
didn’t like.
I remember small Kemp apples, sweet, sometimes
sour.
We ate three or four at a time and always regretted
it.
I remember black and white news reports of the
Vietnam War and thinking they were not quite the same as Sunday afternoon war
films.
I remember singing along to the The Beverley
Hillbillies songs and finishing with a rousing ‘Y’all come back now, ya hear.’
I remember the first time I saw John Wayne as
Marshal Rooster Cogburn in True Grit in the scene where he confronts four
outlaws. One of them calls him a one-eyed fat man and Cogburn shouts: “Fill
your hand, you son of a bitch” before putting the reins in his teeth, pulling
his pistol from the holster, twirling his Winchester rifle and charging.
Thrilling.
I remember eating cooked ham from a packet for the
first time and it tasted like rubber.
I remember my Aunt Sheila sprinkling curry powder
on her Irish stew, my first taste of the exotic.
I remember loving hot Oxo drinks in the winter.
I remember fearing Cybermen more than Daleks in
Doctor Who.
I remember never missing Top of the Pops.
I remember tripping and tumbling down a slope on
the Black Mountain. I was dazed but unhurt.
I remember Sean Allison and I playing guitars and
singing Kris Kristofferson and Gordon Lightfoot songs on Sunday afternoons in
my bedroom. I think I was a better singer than him but he was definitely a much
better guitar player.
I remember slices of vegetable roll, a Monday
dinner thing, strangely named because it had meat in it.
I remember liking Munchies but not the minty ones.
I remember leaving St Mary’s Christian Brothers
Grammar School with 4 O-levels – English, Maths, French and Irish. I got a job
as an office clerk in the Belfast Corporation Electricity Department at Power
Station West, which sounded very exciting. It wasn’t.
I remember being wary of our airing cupboard. I
thought the creaking pipes might be a bogeyman.
I remember singing into hairbrush ‘microphones’.
I remember railings in Belfast city centre and
being frisked by policemen or soldiers on my way to work in British Home
Stores. It became a normal routine.
I remember the news in the middle of the night that
my brother Paul was dead. Days later, I identified his body with a nod of my
head.
I remember my mother darning socks.
I remember winning the BHS dominoes championship
and being presented with an engraved tankard.
I remember Vesta beef curry, but not fondly.
I remember leaving Belfast to live in Manchester to
work as a department manager for BHS. The homesickness and loneliness faded
after a few months.
I remember running every day for what seemed like
an eternity to buy the lunchtime edition of the Manchester Evening News in a
flat-hunting frenzy and then running to a phone box to call the numbers. I saw
quite a few grotty flats and rooms but struck lucky with a place in Heaton Moor.
The landlord was Mister Kola.
I remember a work colleague making fun of my
Belfast accent and asking me if I was ‘on the run’. I began to adapt the way I
spoke.
I remember ironing only the collars and front
panels of work shirts because the rest of the shirt would be hidden under a
jacket.
I remember a marathon pub crawl in Manchester with
Tom McGarrity, Tuesday 14 September, 1976 – Mitre Hotel; Town Hall Tavern; Vine
Inn; Crown; Grey Horse; Flanagan’s; Portland Hotel; Piccadilly Hotel;
Shakespeare.
I remember sad news of the death of Sidney James, a
comic genius with one of the greatest laughs ever.
I remember the long, hot, sweaty summer of 1976 and
a pint of beer for 21p.
I remember Tommy Ducks, an amazing Manchester pub.
The ceiling was adorned with a variety of knickers donated by female customers.
I remember being transferred to BHS, Romford,
Essex. Mr Robinson, the boss, was an old-school manager and terrifying when he
wanted to be.
I remember meeting Irene at the men’s underwear
section of BHS, Romford, a genuine brief encounter.
I remember following and apprehending a shoplifter
for the first time. He was a big, scary guy.
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