6. Clubbing and Pubbing

I made some great mates at Adams, and we started to hang out together a lot after work. From hard work during the hot summer of 1975 and working with 750 degree ovens, I lost a lot of weight, which was a good thing. I felt better about myself, and could buy clothes that didn't hang off me. I had already made friends with a guy called Dave Oglesbee, and he and I used to go drinking around town. Then a new guy started who lived in Swineshead, a village about 8 miles out. His name was Graham Harrison, but everyone called him Sos. Even he didn't seem to know why, and said it dated back to his early childhood. Initially, I thought him a little odd-looking, but at the same time, I was strangely drawn to him. He was what was known as a 'cool' guy. Together with another guy from Sleaford, Bill Wilson, the four of us started to go out to clubs together. Sos was already 'in the know' about all the best places to go, and introduced me to a whole new social life. He took me shopping and showed me the kind of clothes I should be wearing, and I already had a love of soul and disco music, so then I learned, by watching him, how to dance! I was so self-conscious to begin with, but as I followed him around the dance floor and picked up more of his steps, I developed a style of my own, and really started to enjoy myself. This is a not very good pic of him crashed out on Mum's sofa. It doesn't exactly show off his animal magnetism! As well as the regular night clubs, Sos took us to 'Northern Soul All Nighters'. These were great venues that usually started at 12 midnight and went on until 8am. There was no alcohol served, but always a good dance floor and stonking music. They had a kind of cult following, and of all the allnighters that I went to, I never saw any trouble. People just got such a buzz from the occasion.


The dancing, the Detroit sounds and the camaraderie were all that mattered. Typical apparel would be sports or bowling shirt, baggy trousers and 'flattie' brogue shoes, which had to have leather soles to make it easier to slide on the floor. Lots of the dancing involved sliding, and to make it easier, as well as a towel, a fresh shirt and soft drinks in your bag, you also needed talcum powder. It made the floor much more slippery and easier to dance on. We went to lot of one-off dances around East Anglia, but also once visited Wigan Casino, where it was all supposed to have started. We got used to seeing the same friendly faces in places like Loughborough, Skegness, Bourne, Peterborough, Kettering, and Cleethorpes, and to help along the sense of belonging to a 'tribe' we used to buy embroidered badges to sew onto our clothes. I used to have all mine on a waistcoat that I wore every time we went to an allnighter. It also made you instantly recognisable to other followers. We had some great nights out.
Another thing that became all too apparent was that by dancing, you were more noticeable to girls. I guess they think that if you are energetic on the dance floor, you could also be energetic in bed! Anyway, suddenly I became 'desirable' for whatever reasons. Sos already had a reputation with the ladies, and they all seemed to want a piece of him. Because I usually ended up on the floor at the same time as him, it wasn't unusual for the two of us to 'get off' with two girl friends. I'm sure I must have been the Ugly Mate who got off with the female equivalent, but I wasn't complaining. It did my ego the power of good. I suppose I also hoped that one of these floosies might actually spark some sexual attraction, but it never happened. Sos and I had one 1-night-stand after another, and there was an awful lot of sexual experimentation went on in dark alleyways, Sos's car, or the girls' houses. I knew that the more I saw of Sos, the deeper I was getting attracted to him, but of course, I couldn't tell him that. And so we went on, doing the dating game, and I guess the only reason I carried it on so long was because it at least gave me a chance to be with Sos. It seems so silly now, looking back, but it was a hell of a different time in those days. You couldn't just up and tell your best mate that you were gay, and desperately in love with them! And, I suppose I kept hoping that somehow it might not be true. Maybe if I waited long enough, and dated enough girls, at least ONE of them might make me spontaneously aroused. Of course it wasn't to be. It's ironic really to think that I now had a reputation as a 'ladykiller', and yet couldn't care less about them. To fake my way through sex, I used to think of Sos, and use a hell of a lot of imagination. In cases where he and I were getting jiggy in the same room with our current girls, it was easy. If I could catch a glimpse of his butt out of my eye corner, I had no problem 'performing' for whichever girl happened to be under me. I know it wasn't fair on the girls, but I didn't know what else to do...

The All-nighters were supplemented by numerous nights in various clubs around the county and beyond. Because I didn't have my own transport in the early days, when the four of us, Sos, Oggy, Bill and myself went out anywhere, we usually went in Sos and Oggy's cars. Sos first had an Austin 1100, but after an accident in which he wrote it off, he bought a Sunbeam Rapier. Flash. Well, it was at the time. Oggy had a beaten-up old mini. It occasionally decided to overheat, and it used to burn oil, producing fumes that somehow managed to seep in under the back seat, so we would often have to ride either with the windows open or in a smokey fog. It's a wonder it got us anywhere, but we did hundreds of miles in it.

One night after a particularly good evening at the Aquarius club in Lincoln, Sos and I had 'pulled', so Oggy and Bill decided to go for some fish and chips. Sos and I left the club with the girls, and we were all laughing and chatting. Suddenly from out of the blue, about 10 or 15 local lads who had been sitting around on a wall launched an attack on us. Sos and I were knocked to the ground, and the fists and boots started raining down on us. "We'll teach you to come to Lincoln and steal our birds!", they said. The girls were screaming and trying to push off our attackers. After a minute or two, they stopped to see how much damage they'd done to us. Sos and I ran for the cars. Luckily, I had Oggy's keys in case I'd wanted to do some necking in the car. Sos leaped into his car with his girl and drove off. I got into the mini with my girl, but the car wouldn't start. Click, click, click. Great. The hoodlums stood watching, then decided on another attack. They tried to open our doors, but we'd locked them, so then one of them decided it would be a good idea to rock the car over with us still inside it, and try to push it into the river! We were parked fairly near to the rickety fence near the river, so I don't think it would have taken too much effort. They kicked and rocked the car from side to side until it was starting to teeter on two wheels at a time. Just then, Oggy and Bill came back over the bridge and round the corner still noshing their chips. Oggy, who was such a lovely, meek lad who wouldn't hurt a fly, suddenly shouted, "OI! What do you think you're doing? That's MY CAR!". In shock, they all stopped and looked around. I unlocked the door to let Oggy and Bill in, and told him it wouldn't start. He calmly said, "Oh it's a bit funny this key. It goes in either way round, but only starts one way round". He took it out, put it back in again and it started first time. We roared off with another few bootmarks on the boot for good measure. We met up with Sos at the other girl's house and nursed our bruises.

On another night in Lincoln, Sos and I had gone back after the Aquarius club to my girl's house. Bill and Oggy went home in Oggy's car. We started to get amorous with the girls, and had gotten to the nitty-gritty stage. Sos was on the floor on top of his girl, and I was on the sofa on top of mine. Suddenly, the lounge room door opened, and my girl's Mum walked in in her nightie! We all froze, and her Mum said, "Oh don't mind me. I'm just making a cup of tea". She wandered through the middle of us, made a quick cuppa, and wandered back to bed again saying, "Have fun, kids". We couldn't believe it, but my girl seemed unsurprised. She just said, "Yeah...Mum's cool like that".

1975 marched on, and one of my favourite places that Sos had introduced me to was 'The Stonehouse' club and restaurant on the A1 between Grantham and Stamford. I started using the membership card of a friend of Sos's from Swineshead, John Spadafora, or 'Spad' as we all knew him. Spad had stopped going, so gave me his card. When we first started going, they had a sunken dancefloor, but towards the end of the year, they did some renovating and changed the floor into a raised figure '8'. When Sos and I were on form, we would take up one half of the 8 apiece and dance the same steps to the same music, like we were some sort of double act! It certainly went down well with the onlookers, and before long, people got to know us by name and started to buy us drinks. We had some great nights in there. Unfortunately for me, Sos started dating seriously towards the end of the year, so he went less often. I went one night with a girl from Boston, and it was the night that they were renewing memberships. Because it only cost two quid to rejoin, but a whole fiver to join as a new member, I thought quickly, and renewed Spad's membership, changing the 'J' to a 'B' for Bob, as I was called by my mates at that time. Over the next few months, I got to know both the owner and his son, Jimmi, who along with the resident DJ Bill, used to spin the records. Nothing would keep me away from the Stonehouse, not even bad weather. I think it was the following year that I'd made my way there with some friends in the worst winter weather, with snowdrifts on the sides of the road. Dad was worried that I wouldn't make it, so he rang the club and asked for Bob Clay. The owner answered the phone, and said "No, we don't have a Bob Clay, but we do have a Bob Spadafora from Boston". My secret was out! Thankfully, he just laughed it off, and bought me a drink for my cheek, and for making the effort to get there.

If I wasn't in a club, I would always try to go out somewhere, even if it was only to the pub. I began to make the Falcon my local in Boston, and I would drink every lunchtime with Sos in the Stag and Pheasant in Kirton. The landlord in there knew we only had half an hour, so he would have our drinks lined up on the bar at 12.30pm. We would rush in, drink the pint straight down and he would already be pouring our second. A quick cheese and onion roll and a game of pool, maybe sometimes followed by a third pint, and we would be back at work at 1pm! I don't think we got so much work done in the afternoons. After work, on a Tuesday or Thursday if I was at a loose end, I would ride my Honda 50 over to Swineshead and drink with Sos in the Green Dragon. I think it was just an excuse to be near him. I knew it was never going to go anywhere with him, because he couldn't have been more straight, but I still foolishly hankered after him. He was slim and sinewy, with a deep booming voice and twinkling blue eyes, and had a confidence about him that was almost cocky, but still I followed him around like a lost puppy. Sos spent more and more time with Jane, and I started to feel very low. At 19, I was checking out every guy that came along, but still kept trying to find that elusive girl that would set my passion alight the way that Sos did. I guess I just wasn't ready to admit to myself that I was gay. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became.

I tried to go through the motions of enjoying my single, carefree life, and still kept going to nightclubs, parties and discos. Oggy started seeing a girl called Daniella Green in Boston, and in February 76 got engaged to her. She was very quiet and withdrawn, just like I'd always remembered her from primary school, except that now she didn't have the snotty nose. If I did go out it was often with Tony, the son of an older workmate from Adams, John. He asked me if I would take Tony out for a drink because he'd not really got any friends since they moved from Derby. I agreed out of pity, but Tony was such a drip that he used to make me want to scream in frustration sometimes. If we went out in his car, he never drove above 35mph even on the open road. Still, I used to go with him to the Castle Club on the RAF Coningsby airbase, and also to the Sands Showbar in Skegness. I still used to go out for drinks with Dave Bell in Kirton, and tried to hook up with my mates whenever I could. As all my friends kept pairing off, I became quite reclusive, and spent more and more time in my bedroom, drawing and listening to my favourite soul music. Although I was taking driving lessons, I didn't pass my driving test until September 1976, and even then I didn't have a car straight away to drive. And so it meant I had no way of going to clubs when I felt like it, and even then, my favourite people were all off enjoying themselves with partners, something I had yet to do. By March 1976, the depression was getting the better of me.

I was supposed to be going to work one day, but instead I wandered up town early in the morning. I was at rock bottom, and spent the longest time on the town bridge, staring down at the rushing water and the oily thick mud. As miserable as I felt, I didn't have the courage to throw myself off. Instead, I burst into tears and made my way to my Doctor's surgery. After a brief wait for them to open, I was one of the first patients. I explained to my Doc how I was feeling, but still didn't mention that I was gay. He put me on anti-depressants and gave me time off work.

On the upside, Dad bought a Ford Consul for £15 from a workmate of his, Albert Hicks. Albert thought the piston rings were going on it which was why it was so cheap. Dad set about repairing it. He stripped the engine down and found that it was just a leaky gasket causing the problems. After fixing that, it just needed the bodywork touching up, and we were in business. Dad insured me to drive it, and so by September, if he wasn't using it, at least I had a car to drive. It was a heavy tank of a thing, with bench seats in the front and back, and a big skinny steering wheel, but I wasn't complaining. It was transport!

My old schoolfriend Dave Rimmer spent a lot of his time living away whilst training to be a flight engineer, but whenever he came back to Boston we would go out for drinks locally or go to clubs further afield. He passed his driving test before me and bought himself an MGB GT.

It seemed like such a cool car at the time, but in reality, it was a boneshaker to ride in. You had to sit with your legs straight forward in front of you because the seat was only just above the floor. You felt the speed with being so low down, but you also felt every bump in the road! We went in it to the Castle Club at Coningsby, the Sands at Skegness, or maybe went over to Sleaford or Spalding pubs just for a change of scene. If he didn't feel like driving, or wanted to drink more, we would go to a club in High Street, Boston called King Solomons. It was a small dark place with a bar, dancefloor and disco all in the same room, but it was seen as being a 'cool' place to go at the time. The nurses from the town used to spend time in there, so lots of guys wanted to go to see who they could get off with. I dated a couple of them, but not for long, and not very seriously, of course. Dave couldn't understand how I could manage to get girls interested. I told him it was because I danced and they noticed me, that was all. I tried to persuade him onto the dancefloor, but it really wasn't his thing. He was happier propping up the bar and staying out of the limelight. That said, he was a lovely guy and we had some laughs together, sharing a common history through school and after.

The round of clubs and pubs continued with friends Dave Bell, Dave Oggy, Sos, Bill and Dave Rimmer. One night a bunch of us went to see Sweet Sensation at the Sands Showbar in Skegness.They were an eight-piece rhythm and blues act who were popular for five minutes at the time. Their main hit was 'Sad Sweet Dreamer', followed by 'Purely by Coincidence', but then they seemed to sink without trace. We had a good night out, followed by drinks and larking about at home afterwards. This is Dave Bell and Dave Oglesbee playfighting on the floor. Once Dave Bell grabbed you, you stood no chance!