I had a call from Rosie, of Ian and Rosie Go Large, at lunchtime saying that Ian, who runs a music school, had been invited to an event at Norwich Art School at 16.30 to take some of his students to meet Mick Jones of the Clash and did I want to join in. This was kind of him to ask. There’s a show on in the gallery of Mick Jones’ ephemera which is like The Museum of The Great Squat of Ladbroke Grove circa 1981 which I had already seen. Mick Jones’ appearance was at this show – there was to be no speech or lecture or anything, it was just to sort of say Hi.
I considered the matter and came to the conclusion that I just didn’t want to meet one of my boyhood heroes in these circumstances. Not that it would necessarily have ‘gone wrong,’ but because I remember Jones as per below, and I stand myself in relation to him as a twenty-year-old who adored listening to the music over and over again on my record player, my Walkman, in my Mini, later on my Ghetto Blaster and most exquisitely in worshiping at the Temple of seeing them live. They were one of the very best bands in every sense, not least in that they were our leaders and we were their army. I want to leave it like that.
I’ve just rembered I did meet Topper Headon, at the time, more than once. I can tell that story if anyone wants, it has a quite nice little payoff.
Stephen Foster's Blog 
I associate The Clash with one of the most embarrassing moments of my youth. I could tell you the story if anyones interested! 😀
I may be interested. I have been tampering with my blog to get some excitement in my life, maybe a daftburger reminiscence would be a *safer option.
*relative to a mother’s ire…
Is it fit for a family blog? [rolly eyes thing]
Imagine the scene. You’re 16, full of hate, resentment and frustration and punk is the answer to your prayers. A vehicle which will not only piss off the oldies but will give youth a chance to change the order of things literally anachy in the uk (I know this isn’t The Clash before the pedants start). To compound these feelings of resentment you’re on holiday in Blackpool for the Christmas, yes Christmas, holidays. Theres a mystery tour with all the old fogies from the hotel, I was 16 remember, and we end up at this sort of village hall. There’s a disco and the only ‘punk’ record the DJ has is Tommy Gun. I suppose it’ll have to do.
He plays it and up I get and start pogoing around like a mad man, eyes closed, lost in the raw energy of the music. This’ll show them what the youth of today are all about. Well I open my eyes, you have to as you may bump into something, and there’s a load of these old fogies copying me. Oooooh the shame, some even had grey hair. Suffice to say I sat down as this wasn’t for ‘them’ to enjoy and sat brooding with by pint of Brew XI. 😦
Sorry Diva not very exciting, wheres your blog? 😉
Now tephen tell me yours!
*Stephen :-O
I’m saving mine for a post, I don’t have material to burn.
Did u cop off with one of those pensioners?
Diva is here: http://makemeadiva.wordpress.com/
Well it made me laugh, which is probably better 🙂
Thanks for sharing.