Fragment : Brian Clough Stood In Front Of A Waterfall, early 90’s.

… I remember those late summer afternoons down the Boulevard, that flat with the concrete floor and the oil paintings done with matchsticks, Brian Clough Stood In Front Of A Waterfall, that was a favourite, the only one I kept I think, threw the rest of them away, anyhow, the one LP I remember most vividly from that golden time is the Best Of Diana Ross and The Supremes, the one with the black background and the row of microphones and red lips, I’d come in weary at the bone from slinging sacks of spuds at amateur pugilists down Holderness Road and I’d boil up a pan of water for coffee, roll a smoke and slap on the Supremes, Come See About Me, Some Things You Never Get Used To, Forever Came Today … strange gaff that, backed out onto a communal back yard and there would be music leaking from every window but the inhabitants largely invisible, just fleeting shapes behind nets, I used to doze off on the couch with the needle bumping the vinyl, woke up in a panic once, clock said ten past seven, fuck, I was getting picked up at 7:15 am, woah, overslept, overslept, that’ll teach you to go in pub on an afternoon, I pulled on the dirty jeans and trackie top and bolted out onto Hessle Road, that strange three-quarter light of late summer, the golden hour beloved of sci-fi film makers, and there’s me stood there, dumbfounded among short sleeved lads and lasses in summer frocks all waiting at bus stops, all blasts of perfume and hair twisted in wax and the fish shop light was on, the steam coming off the silver counter, a hungry queue spilling out the door, frying tonight, the other shops all iron shuttered and it dawned on me, it was evening, it was seven pm, work was not until the next day, all the days and nights melting into each other back then, and that other navy blue night when sleep paralysis was prowling the neighbourhood, me horizontal and petrified in the wee wee hours, and a stranger came a tap-tap-tapping on the back door, not the sniggering dwarf clutching a cutlass my agitated head had conjured up in half sleep, but a real person, a lad in a red and black baseball cap wanting to know if Alfonso lived here, no pal, sorry, just me and The Supremes, but stop making a row, please, they’re all asleep, don’t wake them up, took me ages to get them off ….