Flashback to 1979

It was 1979, I was thirteen years old. Sid Vicious had died and Thatcher had come to power after the vote of no confidence in parliament. It was in many ways a classic time and a classic year. Let me remind you of some of the years number 1 songs
Pink Floyd Another brick in the wall
Police Message in a bottle & Walking on the moon
Boomtown Rats I don’t like Mondays
Gary Numan Cars
Gloria Gaynor I will survive
And the list could go on to include Blondie, Buggles, Beegees to name but a few. The Walkman had just been released, how on earth it could be called a Walkman is beyond me but it was the start of the things to come. Every teenage kid dreamed of owning a Capri and most teenage girls wanted a boyfriend who had one. I had no idea what a computer was and the thought of a phone not plugged int0 the wall was as far fetched as me getting laid by Debbie Harry. My favourite TV show was Worzel Gummidge and Minder. The jumpsuit for both men and women had just come into fashion. However I was still wearing lofa shoes and mod type clothes AKA I was into ‘The Jam’ at the time and Eaton Rifles had just made number 3 in the charts.

It was a Saturday evening, I was at home with my Mum and Dad my 8-year-old brother and I think my sister who was 15. I have to be honest I am not 100% sure my sister was there but I can check that later.
We lived on a massive council estate in Leicester, working class and it showed. Over 4000 houses; the estate was named after the landowner it was purchased from, a Viscount Bolton Eyres Monsell. An interesting fact is that Leicester is one of the most multi cultural cities in the UK. In fact the so-called white English is actually a minority. However Eyres Monsell is 95% white.

It was early evening we had finished our sausage and chips, dually made from the deep fat fryer, beans and a couple of slices of white bread spread thickly with margarine. Happy days.

Mum decided it would be a good idea if we all tried the ouija board. Well talk about excited. I got the job of polishing the table, as I was probably the most experienced at fast arm movements involving a back and forward momentum. My younger brother sat and watched and the dog fucked off. I think dogs probably have a sense for these types of things. We then got paper and cut out letters etc and mum polished up a little wine glass. (I think it was a small sherry glass actually).

Dad went to look for the emergency candles. Remember we had suffered some tough years and most people had emergency candles for the power cuts. These however were being used for atmosphere and to scare the living shit out of their children.
I can easily describe my father. Do you remember the ventriloquist Roger de Courcey? If not google him. Now when you find the picture you will see him with his hand up some bear. Take a good look at the bear and increase it to six foot. That’s my Dad. Eyes and all. As for my mum, not going to describe her today in much detail other than she looks like Pam Ferris but slightly smaller and rounder.
We are now all sat round our little highly polished occasional table with Formica inlaid top with little sherry glass in the middle. The letters of the alphabet placed around its edge like a 28-hour clock. (26 letters and a yes and no). Lights down and candles lit. Dad at the head of the table but not in charge. Fuck me I was scared. Now I am older I realise why. I was expecting a sacrifice or something, and had told my brother it was going to be him. Obviously he looked slightly more scared than I did.

We slowly and carefully placed our fingers on the glass, just touching, that slight touch. Just tickling the glass, but enough contact.
“Is there anybody there?” my dad wailed really loud. I laughed and my brother farted (shit himself I think).
After numerous tellings off we started to behave and the glass did indeed start moving. I was amazed, shocked and I must say eventually sceptical when the two hours we spent resulted in us trying to talk to Elvis Presley who told us he was happy now, Hitler who just span the glass round as though he was mad and then the piece de resistance was Jesus telling my parents the next weeks football pools numbers.

And people wonder why I don’t care much for this fortune telling rubbish. Jesus had every chance to give us the right numbers and he blew it.