I remember the police houses being built, at the bottom of our street in Brierfield. We used to play on the scaffolding and in the builders’ sand as they were being constructed (kids did in those days!). Those four new houses caused our house number to change from 16 to 24 Heyhead Street (it would change again many years later!). Four families arrived, each with a policeman as the head of the household. At number 8 they had a boy my own age called John and we became best mates, despite not going to the same school (on religious grounds).

We did everything together (except on days of Holy Obligation), we played football, cricket, tennis and board games, mostly Subbuteo together. Sometimes with other mates but often it was just us…inventing our own football leagues all written down with make-believe players and teams; I still maintain that we invented the Premier League with team squads complete with players from Europe and beyond. When we got to the age we could go in pubs and drink, John and I were usually together putting money in jukeboxes to play the music we loved. Most of our friends were really into soul music, especially Northern Soul, but John and I really loved the glamour of bands such as Roxy Music, Sparks and, of course, David Bowie.

When our mates suggested a trip to Blackpool Mecca, John and I were never going to turn down the opportunity of having a drink, listening to some good soul music and most importantly the possibility of meeting girls despite the fact that both of us being rather shy.

It’s funny that this memory of us both stepping up to dance to Love is the Drug by Roxy Music (despite everyone else vacating the dancefloor) has always stayed in my memory. When I asked the woman who would be the love of my life to marry me, there was no question about who would be my best man.
John’s life was cut short by multiple sclerosis. He didn’t get the chance to have a happy marriage, children and the life that I had and because of that it makes me sad but also makes me realise how lucky I have been.

LOVE IS THE DRUG, BLACKPOOL MECCA 1975 (in memory of John 1957-1990)

We caught the free coach

With our Northern Soul mates.

A night out in Blackpool,

At the Mecca Ballroom.

We were more Sparks, Roxy, Bowie

But really ‘got’ the Northern Soul scene,

Appreciated the songs, the vibe

But it wasn’t really our thing

And platform shoes hidden by

Twelve-inch flairs and

Diaphragm-hugging high waistbands

Aren’t conducive to sprung floor gymnastics.

We stand peripheral;

Wallflowers in the borders,

Edged in the Highland Room

Watching the girls dancing;

Their blouses, belts and teeth

Fluorescing under black lights.

Our smart white jackets draped

Across vinyl chair backs.

Loosened tie, rolled up sleeves

Looking the part but both too shy

To approach…to dance even.

Then we hear footsteps on gravel…

A car door opening,

One twang from Manzanera,

Gustafson’s chugging bass kicks in,

McKay’s smoky bluesy sax,

Thompson’s snare ignition,

Then the car and the song set off.

“T’ain’t no big thing” croons Ferry

And John and I do not wait

For the bell to ring.


This is our big thing…

Fish stepping out of water

Onto the dancefloor.

The girls pick up their handbags

As we groove to the driving beat;

Arms flailing, hips snaking,

Smiling at each other

In love with our music…

It’s just John and me

Only dancing.

©graylightfoot