Once upon a time before the happening, life was very different for my friends and me. Air was free, travel in motorcars was widespread and adventures were to be had with the break of every new day.
It was the last day before school broke for the summer in 1989. In actual fact there were still two days of term left, but I had been persuaded by my dear friend, and occasional squeeze, Dianna, to wag it, break up early and go with her to fetch supplies for our big weekend.
I had been paid for the previous month's weekend work at the chicken farm , shortly before quitting my job there with the words "You can take you high-teeth and your franking machine, and you can stuff 'em, right up your arse." I'd always wanted to say that. The chicken farm didn't have a franking machine, and my boss there had only three teeth, but still, it felt great.
I was flush with money and feeling invincible when Dianna and I jumped into her Vauxhall Astra, popped a tape on, sparked up, and sped off towards the Towers Estate, where we were to call on Mexican Dave. The sun was hot that day and seemed to be melting the tar right off the roads. We drove fast, with the windows down and the volume up.
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The Possible Memoirs of A. Rowland Chisholm
HumorA. Rowland Chisholm recounts a time in the late 1980s when he dropped out of a posh English private school and embraced the hedonistic lifestyle of the working-class rave scene. Full of wit, charm and recreational drugs, this memoir is proof positi...
