WEST BROMWICH #2:

Outside a night club, early 70’s, a long wheelbase transit 
parked up on the pavement, backdoors open for the load out. 
The boys, have survived an ugly night, they’re ferry equipment 
out the front of the club to the annoyance of the manager who 
huffs & wants them disappeared. He stands at the door, trying
to distract his regulars, greet the suits & short short dresses 
entering, smiling to loosen purses & pockets, encourage a little 
more heavy spending at his over-priced bar. The bouncers are 
tolerant, we bonded on the way in, concealing their shrugs & glances, 
“Just be as quick as you can lads” they whisper. 
All the boys leave the van alone, something they could maybe do back 
home in the village, but here it’s asking for it & I wonder what 
world they’re living in, may as well leave the gear on the pavement & 
drive off, so I sit on the bonnet looking blasé like I know something, 
faking un-phased nonchalance as gangs cruise past & sniff around. 
In the early 70’s you could do stuff like that & not get stabbed, 
pull a double bluff & carry it off, looking back it seems quant. 
How sweet, a fresh-faced boy in his late teens, shoulder length hair 
& jeans, slouched on the bonnet of a a two-tone Ford, yellow & green, 
red on the inside, still smelling of fish from a previous owner. 

(Thanks to David W. for the photo)

(K)