I think I must have been about 15.
Returning from a friends house after hanging around, listening to music, playing footie or whatever, I strolled the quiet streets back home. I lived in a relatively rural part of Glasgow, to be honest. Parkland was just about everywhere close by. However, just occasionally, it wasn't averse to the odd gangland rivalries at this point, which seeped in, or invaded from other territories sometimes. I turned into Elmore Avenue, just one street away and no more than about five minutes from home. I was the only one on the street, as I walked up the hill. Then I saw them. Perhaps, about 40 of them.
Ahead of me, stretching right across the road, and both pavements, a line right across my vision.
Single file, right across. There really wasn't an escape. Sure, I could have turned tail and ran back the way I came, but what chance of one, or more, of the 40 catching up with me anyway ? Time to brazen it out, and keep going towards them. Usually, in this case, the gangland custom was to give you no space to pass, so you literally bumped into one of them. They'd accuse you of doing this deliberately, and... blah blah. You were mincemeat. It wasn't something you could escape from or avoid.
I'm not sure why I remember this so distinctly.
Maybe because it has a musical memory to it - although you'd be forgiven for asking why, the way the story has started so far.
80 eyes staring at me, now about 10 yards away. I'd never felt so uncomfortable, or, frankly, so scared. How on earth would I get out of this ?
Suddenly, I noticed I knew one of them. Just one. A corkscrew haired lad a year or so younger than me, who I vaguely knew from School. His name was Russ. Well, his nickname anyway.
I had nothing to lose by saying 'Hey Russ, how's it going' ? .
Then the reprieve. He did seem to be the gangleader after all. The man in the middle.
'Alright', he said, and looked around at his fellow sneering blood baying friends.
'It's ok, I know him, he's a Bolan fan too'. said Russ, gesturing at me.
Russ clearly wasn't going to be responsible for having a fellow Bolan fan beaten up.
We chatted briefly about the merits of 'The Slider', and on I went, homeward.
Quickly.
I knew it was a good idea to love T.Rex.
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