Bede and the Party
Bede is a good friend; I ended up sharing a flat with him in 1970.
The first time I remember meeting him was at his twenty first birthday party. He was completely naked running about all over the place. It was a strange party.
I had a car. It was an old Ford Popular sit-up and beg car that I’d painted. I’d used all the bright gloss paint I could lay my hands on. The grill was orange, body pink, lamps yellow, wheels orange with a blue stripe down the middle and various green trim. You could see it coming. It was my magic bus. It proved very popular with the police. They loved pulling me over and trying to find a problem with it. I had to regularly take my documents in to the police station. I was on every page in the book.
A stone had shattered the windscreen and, as I didn’t have the money to replace it, I solved the problem by knocking the glass out. It made for a breezy ride but was good in summer.
I’d been out to a gig with Bede and after we were heading home in my rainbow car when Bede saw that the pubs were emptying. He told me to pull over.
Bede climbed out through the broken windscreen and stood on the roof. He announced that there was a party about to happen round at his place. It seemed to go down well.
By the time we got there people had started arriving. The only trouble was that Bede was not really set up for a party. There was no sound system, no drink, no food, but we had lots of people.
Soon the flat was heaving. They were very amenable. Bede and I randomly read extracts of books to great cheers. Before long spliffs started circulating, booze magically appeared, a sound system materialised and some good music started up.
It went on all night and developed into one of the best. The only downside was that someone stole a couple of Bede’s shirts!