The youth club disco had finished at least an hour earlier, but I was still only halfway home on a walk that usually took seven or eight minutes. Shed decided she didnt want to see me anymore, but hoped we could still be mates. Id said OK, shrugged my shoulders and went off to get a bottle of Coke. After a while, I walked over to the DJ and asked him to play some Motown, anything by the Tops, Smokey or Stevie, but not *that* song. He mustnt have heard the not; either that or he was hell bent on torturing me. I left the hall and went to hang out with the bigger boys having a fag at the back of the building. They sold me a Benson and I took a long puff, and thats when my eyes started watering. It was the smoke, nothing else, but it stung so much that I thought it was best to head off and call it a night. The walk was taking so long because I had to keep stopping to rub the salty water off my face, and even though the hall was now three streets away I could still hear the music. And why was the DJ still playing *that* song? Goodnight, Jimmy.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 00:21:00 +0000
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