This was a proper great substack Dange! Loved this one. Took me right back.
Am a few years younger than you and the other scrubs (well say 5 or 6 years). I was at primary rather than senior school in the 80s but remember even then there was a new boy who joined us for a year, he smelled of piss, wore tracksuit bottoms- that were way too short- instead of school trousers and various knitted tops that functioned as his official 'uniform'. Never got forced to have the clobber and was only with us for a year. No one wanted to sit with him, but I used to talk to him. Not because he was god, but it was good to have someone finally below me in the pecking order! But anyway you've taken me right back to those days. Days where above our peg on the wall, where we hung our coat and school bag, we had our names each written in our colourful scrawl. I wasn't as poor as piss boy but my nan used to knit me jumpers and scarves, they also made me wear socks with sandals. No idea of fashion back then 🤦🏻♂️
You also take me back to the 90s when I got my cousin's 48k spectrum and used to waste whole evenings playing Treble Champions an early incantation of today's Football Manager. We used to go the local cab office. Owned by the family of one of the Pakistani kids in our year. They had a slot machine of Street Fighter, we never made money but many a lunchtime was spent hanging out and trying to clock that game.
Some things at the time seemed annoying, you couldn't wait to get away and out from the inner-city blues, but looking back now it was an East London that still had it's soul. It was still ours. Maybe it's just my nostalgia for my nostalgia but there's something about those days, an innocence, that's gone once you meet adulthood.
Hope Vicky at least came back to oil your gears mate 🤔😉
Nice one, BZ. That's the first time I remembered having your name above a hook, but for me that was only in infant school and for your P.E. bag. These days your bags are scanned for machetes and the like. Yes, innocence. Me and a mate wasted (well, not really, we loved it) the entire summer holidays playing Elite on my Spectrum. I couldn't even play it, really, not flying the ship and combat, but there was a trading element to it, buying and selling stuff between planets to buy better weapons, so I did that. Really it was just hanging out with your best mate for hours on end, stopping occasionally for a cup of tea and some beans and cheese on toast. Wow, you took me back there too. Nice one. And thanks for reading and leaving a comment, always much appreciated.
Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit, I had to read that MORE then twice and the last quarter more than 5 times.... no cap! I thought I was going looney choonz! I really wasn't expecting any of that to go the way it did..... I'm guessing none of that is ripped from the clouded memories of your past? Or, is it????
Jay Pee, Jay Pee! Great comment, warms the cockles of my heart to read a reply like that. And you pose an interesting question that's been part of the literary discourse for...er....for...er...forever, I guess: What is fiction? I mean, I thought these thoughts, they came from somewhere, but did they happen? No. But I did witness a journalist get stitched up in a rehab, who was only there because there were rumours that Amy Winehouse was coming to the facility. So the boss sold them a load of rubbish about how they treated addicts. The little details, like nan-knitted jumpers and flicking twos, etc., are all true. But this is definitely (and clearly) one of the more 'fictional' (in the traditional sense) shorts I've written.
The best thing about your reply is that you could be arsed to read it repeatedly to get something out of it. That really means a lot to me. Cheers, John.
Ha! It's funny, cos, my nan used to knit us jumpers (for school?) Every birthday and christmas we'd get something knitted to wear.... we never wore them... though, my school clothes were all bought from our monthly visits to the commercial road Indian warehouses in the Eastend - cos, my dad had spent his childhood going up there for my nan (same nan that sent the knitted clothing to us) to buy stuff to sell on Tilbury market... Even our trainers were bought there.... I HATED my school clothes until the 3rd year when I was able to have decent shirts, at least. Always a pleasure to read your stories, bruv, thank you, and keep it up!!!
I hated my school jumpers, but when I got to 16 and I think t's fair to say 'heavily' into LSD, I got my nan to make me a jumper that went down to just below my knees, and the arms hung over my hands by about a foot. Then my nan was super cool, and the little posse of acid-heads I knocked about with all got their nans to make them equally ridiculous jumpers. We looked like a right bunch of, well, acid casualties. But the nans won in the end. Weren't it nice to start earning a few quid though, and get some proper garms. Lovely. With those Björn Borg signed Diadora trainers and my Lois jumbo cords, I was like the king of Dartford. For about a week. Thanks, John, you keep reading, and I'll keep writing.
Haha, that's the one, and all frayed and wearing thin. I had one school shirt. Wore it for five days, me and it got one wash on Sunday, and then start again.
Oh - I missed 'bloody brilliant', which is weird, as I'm like a vampire for the blood of compliments. Thank you, Liz, it would appear I'm a bit slow today too. But we've both been a lot slower, so no dramas.
Lizzie! I was getting a bit twitchy reading your comment, but you pulled it out of the bag at the end, thank you for reading it (some parts twice) and leaving a comment. Appreciated as always.
This was my first substack read I think. I just glanced at it, expecting to give up after a paragraph, as per most readings, but was immediately locked in. Musta just hit the perfect eighties nostalgia frequency. Dug it. Merci. The end felt a bit abrupt though. Was enjoying meself. But guess that's the nature of the short story - they end quickly.
Nice one, Clive, much appreciated. Yes, shorts are like that; they start and end pretty quickly. But thanks for giving it a go, glad it hit the spot and kept you there.
Hi Chris, I’m just back from late night ‘shopping at Tescos’ I’ve had a read here with a glass of Eisberg Merlot and Oscar the Cairn pup biting at my ankles.
You know what I love? How you evoke the truths of 80s school days, the nan-knitted-jumper kids were the poorer ones. Going down to the arcade was what we did. Metalwork? I can smell the workshop and the grubby aprons.
I enjoyed this, I even like the fact that it’s unedited and a bit raw. There is an ‘Old Greg’ feel to the story… a bit Mighty Boosh surreal - but just believable enough - marvellous!
Hello Lucy, Late night shopping at Tescos - on a Saturday night too! You're making my life seem very boring. Thank you for your kind words, and for also reminding me of the smell of the metal workshops, I'd forgotten that until you said it, and as soon as I read it, I could smell it. My dad worked in a bronze forge, so I was used to those kinds of smells, but the school workshops had a very distinct smell. And yes - the aprons. Ours were blue, and I'm not sure they'd protect you from much more than a light spill of coffee.
You've got to feel for the kids and their wrong colour jumpers. I think schools should provide the right colour wool, or at least tell parents where they can get it. My uniform was pretty much identical to the kids in the image at the top of the story, but the 'nan knits' were always a bit bright, and clearly hand-knitted. Brutal really.
I decided not to indicate who was speaking, I reckon most readers can work it out without all those damn quotation marks, and in truth does it really matter? I guess I'll find out as the comments start coming in. Thank you for reading it and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Cool little story with a great setting and a nice twist at the end. I can see this being an episode of the Twilight Zone, dumbed down of course for modern audiences.
Hello Matt - I thought I answered this yesterday, but thanks for giving it some time. Interestingly, I've been listening to the original old radio broadcasts of The Twilight Zone as I go to sleep lately. I don't usually get past the first 30 or so seconds, but maybe the inspiration made it in while I slept. Thanks again. I hope you're well.
What if the YouTubers were being interviewed (unbeknownst to them) so their sanity could be judged? Doing well son I see the streams are still going strong and I plan to catch a live one soon. Hope life is good along the Ho Chi Mihn trail, and I look forward to future reads.
The YouTube channel that cannot die. Or will not. Who knows, I love it though. Future reads in the pipeline, and of course the novel. The damned novel. Look after yourself.
This was just what the doctor ordered today. As I sit here, curled up all foetus like, trying to keep warm, surrounded by tissues new and used. I imagine it was someone at court (I've been on jury service since last week) that gave me their cold unawares. That's the real crime here!
On a day where it feels like my head is full of snot, and I'm unable to think beyond "will I run out of tissues before I feel well enough to even contemplate going out?", this Substack short took it's rightful place amongst the mucus, and there it will stay whilst I ponder over it, re-reading it, delighting in it's aha moment, and feeling like a normal cold-less human being again, if only for a short while.
Your writing style reminds me of other quite brilliant writers, but simultaneously like nothing I've read before. From the first paragraph you set a scene so vivid, so lucid, images so clear that you get drawn in from the get-go.
Creating nostalgic emotions, nudging memories; we all remember 'that kid', those pesky teenage hormones - these things are nearly always comforting and rewarding. But don't get too comfortable, damn you! Pow! K.O'd! I got up, dusted myself down, and I had to remind myself that yes, this is what Chris does, this is what Chris is good at. He makes you stop. He makes you think. He makes you appreciate that storytelling can take all manner of turns. So very clever, so engaging. I really like your use of repeating certain lines for effect - she/Adam knows. And she/Adam knows I know she/he knows. Simple but effective, to me anyway. Made me smile.
I really enjoyed this short. I marvel at your ability once again. You continue to show yourself to be a very confident, competent, thoughtful, and intelligent writer.
But I think my biggest takeaway from it was - Victoria - would tap!
I very much look forward to the next short. Nice one DF!
Hello Emma. Thank you for taking the time to read this short and write a considered and thoughtful reply. I don't think I got an email about this comment, as I usually reply ASAP, but I just opened Substack to write something, and boom! There it was.
I hope you're feeling better now, and I'm glad to have been able to offer a bit of relief.
Funny what you said about 'Victoria - would tap,' as it's one of many little red flags that were intended to be a tiny and underwatered seed that things are not quite as they appear. Overdo it, and it could be read as clumsy and cheap. I wanted people to register them but not read too much into them, so when the story concludes, they were not just the otherwise seemingly pointless side-steps. I'll stop there, I can talk about my damned process forever, and usually do. Thanks again.
This was a proper great substack Dange! Loved this one. Took me right back.
Am a few years younger than you and the other scrubs (well say 5 or 6 years). I was at primary rather than senior school in the 80s but remember even then there was a new boy who joined us for a year, he smelled of piss, wore tracksuit bottoms- that were way too short- instead of school trousers and various knitted tops that functioned as his official 'uniform'. Never got forced to have the clobber and was only with us for a year. No one wanted to sit with him, but I used to talk to him. Not because he was god, but it was good to have someone finally below me in the pecking order! But anyway you've taken me right back to those days. Days where above our peg on the wall, where we hung our coat and school bag, we had our names each written in our colourful scrawl. I wasn't as poor as piss boy but my nan used to knit me jumpers and scarves, they also made me wear socks with sandals. No idea of fashion back then 🤦🏻♂️
You also take me back to the 90s when I got my cousin's 48k spectrum and used to waste whole evenings playing Treble Champions an early incantation of today's Football Manager. We used to go the local cab office. Owned by the family of one of the Pakistani kids in our year. They had a slot machine of Street Fighter, we never made money but many a lunchtime was spent hanging out and trying to clock that game.
Some things at the time seemed annoying, you couldn't wait to get away and out from the inner-city blues, but looking back now it was an East London that still had it's soul. It was still ours. Maybe it's just my nostalgia for my nostalgia but there's something about those days, an innocence, that's gone once you meet adulthood.
Hope Vicky at least came back to oil your gears mate 🤔😉
Nice one, BZ. That's the first time I remembered having your name above a hook, but for me that was only in infant school and for your P.E. bag. These days your bags are scanned for machetes and the like. Yes, innocence. Me and a mate wasted (well, not really, we loved it) the entire summer holidays playing Elite on my Spectrum. I couldn't even play it, really, not flying the ship and combat, but there was a trading element to it, buying and selling stuff between planets to buy better weapons, so I did that. Really it was just hanging out with your best mate for hours on end, stopping occasionally for a cup of tea and some beans and cheese on toast. Wow, you took me back there too. Nice one. And thanks for reading and leaving a comment, always much appreciated.
What the actual fuck, man?!?!?!?
Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit, I had to read that MORE then twice and the last quarter more than 5 times.... no cap! I thought I was going looney choonz! I really wasn't expecting any of that to go the way it did..... I'm guessing none of that is ripped from the clouded memories of your past? Or, is it????
A great Sunday surprise! Big love, bruva!
Jay Pee, Jay Pee! Great comment, warms the cockles of my heart to read a reply like that. And you pose an interesting question that's been part of the literary discourse for...er....for...er...forever, I guess: What is fiction? I mean, I thought these thoughts, they came from somewhere, but did they happen? No. But I did witness a journalist get stitched up in a rehab, who was only there because there were rumours that Amy Winehouse was coming to the facility. So the boss sold them a load of rubbish about how they treated addicts. The little details, like nan-knitted jumpers and flicking twos, etc., are all true. But this is definitely (and clearly) one of the more 'fictional' (in the traditional sense) shorts I've written.
The best thing about your reply is that you could be arsed to read it repeatedly to get something out of it. That really means a lot to me. Cheers, John.
Ha! It's funny, cos, my nan used to knit us jumpers (for school?) Every birthday and christmas we'd get something knitted to wear.... we never wore them... though, my school clothes were all bought from our monthly visits to the commercial road Indian warehouses in the Eastend - cos, my dad had spent his childhood going up there for my nan (same nan that sent the knitted clothing to us) to buy stuff to sell on Tilbury market... Even our trainers were bought there.... I HATED my school clothes until the 3rd year when I was able to have decent shirts, at least. Always a pleasure to read your stories, bruv, thank you, and keep it up!!!
I hated my school jumpers, but when I got to 16 and I think t's fair to say 'heavily' into LSD, I got my nan to make me a jumper that went down to just below my knees, and the arms hung over my hands by about a foot. Then my nan was super cool, and the little posse of acid-heads I knocked about with all got their nans to make them equally ridiculous jumpers. We looked like a right bunch of, well, acid casualties. But the nans won in the end. Weren't it nice to start earning a few quid though, and get some proper garms. Lovely. With those Björn Borg signed Diadora trainers and my Lois jumbo cords, I was like the king of Dartford. For about a week. Thanks, John, you keep reading, and I'll keep writing.
I used to have plastic tips in my collars era 70s, they were handed down that much, I was in comp 86-91 lol
Haha, that's the one, and all frayed and wearing thin. I had one school shirt. Wore it for five days, me and it got one wash on Sunday, and then start again.
I'm a bit slow today, this substack should take 17 mins to read it took me 23.Thats because it was bloody brilliant as I read some parts twice 😁
Oh - I missed 'bloody brilliant', which is weird, as I'm like a vampire for the blood of compliments. Thank you, Liz, it would appear I'm a bit slow today too. But we've both been a lot slower, so no dramas.
Lizzie! I was getting a bit twitchy reading your comment, but you pulled it out of the bag at the end, thank you for reading it (some parts twice) and leaving a comment. Appreciated as always.
This was my first substack read I think. I just glanced at it, expecting to give up after a paragraph, as per most readings, but was immediately locked in. Musta just hit the perfect eighties nostalgia frequency. Dug it. Merci. The end felt a bit abrupt though. Was enjoying meself. But guess that's the nature of the short story - they end quickly.
Nice one, Clive, much appreciated. Yes, shorts are like that; they start and end pretty quickly. But thanks for giving it a go, glad it hit the spot and kept you there.
Hi Chris, I’m just back from late night ‘shopping at Tescos’ I’ve had a read here with a glass of Eisberg Merlot and Oscar the Cairn pup biting at my ankles.
You know what I love? How you evoke the truths of 80s school days, the nan-knitted-jumper kids were the poorer ones. Going down to the arcade was what we did. Metalwork? I can smell the workshop and the grubby aprons.
I enjoyed this, I even like the fact that it’s unedited and a bit raw. There is an ‘Old Greg’ feel to the story… a bit Mighty Boosh surreal - but just believable enough - marvellous!
Keep it up Sir, be happy 👻Lucy x
Hello Lucy, Late night shopping at Tescos - on a Saturday night too! You're making my life seem very boring. Thank you for your kind words, and for also reminding me of the smell of the metal workshops, I'd forgotten that until you said it, and as soon as I read it, I could smell it. My dad worked in a bronze forge, so I was used to those kinds of smells, but the school workshops had a very distinct smell. And yes - the aprons. Ours were blue, and I'm not sure they'd protect you from much more than a light spill of coffee.
You've got to feel for the kids and their wrong colour jumpers. I think schools should provide the right colour wool, or at least tell parents where they can get it. My uniform was pretty much identical to the kids in the image at the top of the story, but the 'nan knits' were always a bit bright, and clearly hand-knitted. Brutal really.
I decided not to indicate who was speaking, I reckon most readers can work it out without all those damn quotation marks, and in truth does it really matter? I guess I'll find out as the comments start coming in. Thank you for reading it and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Cool little story with a great setting and a nice twist at the end. I can see this being an episode of the Twilight Zone, dumbed down of course for modern audiences.
Hello Matt - I thought I answered this yesterday, but thanks for giving it some time. Interestingly, I've been listening to the original old radio broadcasts of The Twilight Zone as I go to sleep lately. I don't usually get past the first 30 or so seconds, but maybe the inspiration made it in while I slept. Thanks again. I hope you're well.
What if the YouTubers were being interviewed (unbeknownst to them) so their sanity could be judged? Doing well son I see the streams are still going strong and I plan to catch a live one soon. Hope life is good along the Ho Chi Mihn trail, and I look forward to future reads.
The YouTube channel that cannot die. Or will not. Who knows, I love it though. Future reads in the pipeline, and of course the novel. The damned novel. Look after yourself.
This was just what the doctor ordered today. As I sit here, curled up all foetus like, trying to keep warm, surrounded by tissues new and used. I imagine it was someone at court (I've been on jury service since last week) that gave me their cold unawares. That's the real crime here!
On a day where it feels like my head is full of snot, and I'm unable to think beyond "will I run out of tissues before I feel well enough to even contemplate going out?", this Substack short took it's rightful place amongst the mucus, and there it will stay whilst I ponder over it, re-reading it, delighting in it's aha moment, and feeling like a normal cold-less human being again, if only for a short while.
Your writing style reminds me of other quite brilliant writers, but simultaneously like nothing I've read before. From the first paragraph you set a scene so vivid, so lucid, images so clear that you get drawn in from the get-go.
Creating nostalgic emotions, nudging memories; we all remember 'that kid', those pesky teenage hormones - these things are nearly always comforting and rewarding. But don't get too comfortable, damn you! Pow! K.O'd! I got up, dusted myself down, and I had to remind myself that yes, this is what Chris does, this is what Chris is good at. He makes you stop. He makes you think. He makes you appreciate that storytelling can take all manner of turns. So very clever, so engaging. I really like your use of repeating certain lines for effect - she/Adam knows. And she/Adam knows I know she/he knows. Simple but effective, to me anyway. Made me smile.
I really enjoyed this short. I marvel at your ability once again. You continue to show yourself to be a very confident, competent, thoughtful, and intelligent writer.
But I think my biggest takeaway from it was - Victoria - would tap!
I very much look forward to the next short. Nice one DF!
Hello Emma. Thank you for taking the time to read this short and write a considered and thoughtful reply. I don't think I got an email about this comment, as I usually reply ASAP, but I just opened Substack to write something, and boom! There it was.
I hope you're feeling better now, and I'm glad to have been able to offer a bit of relief.
Funny what you said about 'Victoria - would tap,' as it's one of many little red flags that were intended to be a tiny and underwatered seed that things are not quite as they appear. Overdo it, and it could be read as clumsy and cheap. I wanted people to register them but not read too much into them, so when the story concludes, they were not just the otherwise seemingly pointless side-steps. I'll stop there, I can talk about my damned process forever, and usually do. Thanks again.
Gosh. I just read it, and not at 04:00 AM, and there were so many missing and/or wrong words. Oh well, sorted now. Unless you spot any, let me know.