Viva Bobby Folds

Paul, Clive, John and Stan, like half the lads in school grew their hair long. I preferred to keep mine short but with colder days arriving and my skinhead haircut only just bristling into a crew cut, I was glad of the red and white bobble hat I’d begged my mam to knit.

Some of the lads had taken to wearing Parka coats. Not me. The 100% synthetic coat Mam bought me to wear over my blazer was good enough. ‘A car coat,’ she said, ‘with room to grow into.’ She wasn’t wrong. Two of me could have fitted into a coat that hung like a wigwam, even with a blazer underneath.

Traipsing up Trafalgar Street on our way to school we came to new shop as we turned the bend towards Canterbury Street. ‘Provident’ said the sign. As I couldn’t see a thing through the darkened green window, I asked my friends what it was.

‘It’s where you get provident cheques,’ said Paul. 

‘What’s one of them?’ 

‘It’s a thing they give you to buy stuff with, instead of money.’

Though I found Paul’s explanation hard to grasp, I liked the idea of buying things without money. I just wished somebody would give me a provident cheque.

Out in the playground, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing about a new record in the charts.

‘It’s true, it’s French.’

‘Are you sure they’re doing it?’

‘Course I’m sure, you should hear the bird. Sounds a right dirty cow, she does. She moans and groans all the way through it.’

‘Bloody hell.’

The Evening Post, issue number 182, was delivered by me to houses on Twydall Green, Waltham Road, Elham Close and Begonia Avenue. The first week on the round went well, with my wage topping the money I’d earned at the International Stores. Now that Saturday’s were free for watching football again, I went to watch Gillingham with my mate Paul.

Gillingham 1 Barnsley 3

Just my luck – my first Saturday match in a year and Gillingham were every bit as poor as their league position indicated. It was going to be a long hard season. From behind the goal at the Rainham End, Paul and I had little to cheer, though we did get a good view of a debut goal from left back David Peach. His clipped shot from the edge of the penalty area beat the outstretched arm of Barnsley keeper Brian Arblaster and glanced off the underside of the bar on its way into the net.

Ann Howe, a classmate, was a programme seller at Priestfield Stadium and a big fan of the Gills. She was also a big fan of Bobby Folds, I discovered, when I heard her singing his praises to a tune of the day.

‘Viva Bobby Folds, Viva Bobby Folds, Viva, Viva, Viva!’