We had the album cover. In fact, we probably had our second
and third album covers, as well. What we didn’t have was guitars, any songs of
our own or the determination to go in that direction - too much football, too
many trains.
However, we sang in harmony to the Beatles’ This Boy, swung
at our badminton rackets behind the curtain on the church hall stage in time
with Pete Townshend’s Pinball Wizard and stroked the chords of the Kinks’ Louie
Louie.
We shrieked “Can you see the real me, can you?” from the top
of some of England’s highest mountains? [I have done this in recent times,
also, though admittedly, from some rather smaller peaks] and yelled at the sea
from perfect, yet desolate, Pembrokeshire sands that, “A beach is a place that
a man can feel, He’s the only soul in the world that’s real” [likewise].
We had the energy and we knew what we liked - and we’ve
still got the LP covers.
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