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Progs like that almost convince me that my life must have had a sound track back then. Every song just seems like something I heard in the background in the cafe or at the despatch dept in Hunter & Barr's warehouse in Queen St where I started work @ 15. Although Rev, to be honest, "shaving like 1959" tended to involve frost on the inside of the bathroom window in December, scraping frantically at the old physog with a soiled 3 piece Gillette through a sketchy covering of "lather" produced by the stumpy end of an Erasmic shaving stick cursing quietly because obviously mum & sis had been using the razor for their own feminine purposes. Exit the house with half a toilet roll of shiny Sanitol clamped firmly over and around the red ruin which my wee face had become.

(I believe that this is about the stage when sobbing violins should be heard in the background as I relive those far off days).

JohnnyO. :)
 
Very little novel and nowt at all fresh about me now I fear Rev. At 16 I wore imitation black leather with genuine metal studs, a Centurion crash hat & rode a 200cc Triumph Tiger Cub with altered inlet manifold & carb jets & tinkered with valve springs. The image was spoilt only by oily black fingernails & since I've never smoked I was always unable to imitate the really cool guys who flipped their ciggies up one at a time from packs of imported American cigarettes they got their girlfriends to purloin from American sailors based at the Holy Loch up in Dunoon. I always presented as more of a Walter Mitty than a Joe Porter I fear. In 1959 my life was as much in monochrome as the "those were the days" programmes.

JohnnyO. :cry:
 
Rev Of The Raj

Me and Sonny out on a tiger hunt?

It sounds like one of Orwell's novels.

I'd want Vinny with me as well, though. Well-armed as usual.
 
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