Читать книгу Class of '79 - Chris Rooke - Страница 26

Things came to a head one evening when I went to a big concert by Mott the Hoople, or rather by Mott as they were known by then. The band were in terminal decline and had just released their new album Shouting and Pointing, which was due to fail to chart anywhere, and the band split up shortly afterwards. Once again I was on my own and I was just about at my lowest that night, and sat morosely watching the band, who were performing in a kind of club venue, with the main crowd in the middle and then with tables round the outside.

As part of the fun, they released loads of balloons and Frisbees, which were wafted and whizzed around the auditorium, and added to the enjoyment of most of the audience – apart from little old lonesome me. Towards the end of the show I walked round the side of the audience, to get a better view, and as I did so a Frisbee going at high speed caught me full on the side of my head.

Because I was in such a depressed mood at the time, instead of ducking down and exclaiming, as one would do normally, I simply stopped mid-stride and then slowly turned my head round to where the Frisbee had come from with a bit of a death stare. I could immediately see that it had come from a small group of students, as they were all looking mortified and embarrassed, and rather scared, evidently thinking that I might come and exact some revenge on them. But it had clearly been an accident, and I wasn’t sure exactly who had thrown the Frisbee anyway, so I just walked on, pretending to be a hard man, but I was hurt, hurt deep inside.

The Frisbee whacking the side of my head, thrown by fellow students who were clearly enjoying themselves, was just too much to bear, it was the last straw. I felt like it was a sign that I really wasn’t wanted, and I would never be accepted. I realised I had to do something if I was to escape this whole bad situation. Suddenly, it was obvious – I would go and see my friend Gazza in Leeds – and I would go now, there and then, without delay. And so it was that at 11.00pm that night, I left the concert, got in my beloved Mini and drove Northwards towards Leeds and the friendship of Gazza.