Member-only story
Another Brush with a Famous Person
When I was a roadie for a funk acid jazz band. Oh yes, I have lived.
I was at an all-night party somewhere in the Berkshire countryside at an abandoned Mill. A generator had been hooked up for the sound system and fairy lights: I was autistic but didn’t know it, and I was out of my depth.
A goofy man, my age, with John Lennon spectacles, buck teeth and tousled blonde hair (thinning) made a beeline for me. He was funny and charming and irrepressible.
Him: Where are you from?
Me: London
Him: Me too, which part?
Me: Ealing
Him: You’re kidding. Me too, whereabouts in Ealing?
Me: On the North Circular Road
Him: Now you really must be kidding. Which part (The North Circular Road is very long)?
Me: Up from Chiswick roundabout.
Him: What number are you?
Me: 102
Him: I’m at 105
We worked out we had lived directly opposite each other for ten years but had never met. To be fair, it is a very busy road.
There began a lifelong friendship that has provided me with a stream of potential (and realised)…
