Why Are The Seventies So Special? happy times and great memories.

It was my bro Mike who first got me enthusiastic about pop music. He used to buy his singles on a saturday morning and I'd wait for him to come back home to play them on our tiny suitcase record player. I'll always remember his sensible words when i told him I assumed Steve Harley was rubbish because he could not sing. He told me 'nothing is rubbish if someone likes it'. From then on I listened to music in an entire different way.

mates came and went, Steve Fordham was my right hand man in several of our escapades some of which I cannot talk about until the statute of restrictions runs out. We'd fish down Tottenham Locks and go adventuring together though I don't understand why we probably did get on because he used to enjoy me being in discomfort particularly the time when we received caught scrumping in someone's garden and a dog was put on us. Steve flew over the wall but I strived being a tiny bit smaller.

I was there, trying to pull myself up over the wall with a dog hanging on my trouser leg. I suspect Steve must've been close to wetting himself that day.
We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sunshine although it was a doleful day when he moved up to Burnley and my dad would not even let me have a sleepover for his yesterday evening.

Life was good for several years till my pa met somebody and got remarried.
With her came three more boys. Can you imagine it ? Six boys in one house.
So goodbye Leyton, hello Stratford.

The worse thing about this move was I had to share a room with her youngest and he used to be a handful with an especially fast fiery temper. I can remember coming home and finding all my things thrown out the window and laying in the back garden with my valued cuddly bear impaled on the garden fence.
These were difficult times for me and my siblings as she dominated the roost and the stereotypical step-mother held court.

Things weren't all bad though. We usually got on with the siblings Steve, Graham and Colin, the youngest, but the bonus was the fellowship of Gary the kid from next door.

Out of all the years living there the best year needs to be 1976.
It was the year when the sun failed to stop shining all summer and the holiday we had down in Looe, Cornwall was the best vacation i'd ever had. Cornish Pasties were the food of the god's and sweetest love matured. Everything was just going great. Gary and me spent all summer catching the 69 bus to Beckton lido with our crew playing about in the pool, and to cap it all I'd finally managed to get back in touch with my old buddy Steve and prepared a trip up to Burnley for Yuletide.

It was so new and exciting traveling up there on the nation's coach as I'd never been away from home on my own before. When I arrived Steve was there waiting for me and the welcome I got from his mummy and family just about made me cry.

We partied all over the place which was like being a celebrity. The girls would continuously ask me to say different words in my cockney accent,. You didn't hear me bitching. I can remember one party particularly because they stopped it to look at Starsky and Hutch!

The Xmas week culminated at the Cat's hairs for New Years Eve and we danced all night to the likes of Rose Royce, Leo Sayer and Candi Staton finishing the evening off with John Christie's Here's to like.

It was a great end to potentially the best year of my life.

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