Class of '79. Chris Rooke
course, who had a flat together, and we had a lot in common. I can’t tell you how much it meant to actually have a couple of people to talk to! The problem was that I was so desperate for some company, I knew that I was in danger of going round to their flat too often and wearing out my welcome. It was a bit like being a love-struck teenager who obsesses over a new girlfriend and ends up smothering her with their attentions. And indeed, my fears were realised when I went round to see them one Sunday morning – Sunday mornings being one of the loneliest times. I went in and instead of a normal greeting, they both asked separately: ‘So, what have you come round for then?’ in a polite but clear message that I had exceeded my allocation of visits and they were tired of seeing me. They had clearly been talking about me and had both agreed that my presence was just a bit too regular. I was mortified with embarrassment, mumbled an excuse and left, never to return. My loneliness deepened.
My friends' flat that I so longed to be part of!
At about the same time my coat was stolen. My dad never bought me anything that wasn’t either for my birthday or Christmas, but one day, shortly before I was due to leave for Portsmouth, I bumped into him in town. I explained that I was there looking to buy a coat and he insisted on finding me a really good quality overcoat and buying it for me. It really was a nice coat – it fitted well, it suited me and it kept me warm and dry. Not only that but because my dad had bought it for me it was rather special.
Sometime in the Autumn term I went to a party at someone’s house one night and wore my coat as it was raining heavily. The party turned out to be the usual disaster, and after staying a short while I returned to the bedroom where everyone’s coats had been left, and of course mine was missing. Clearly because it was still raining hard some lowlife had taken it upon themselves to help themselves to my brand new coat!
I was very annoyed with the unknown person, and with myself for having left my valuable coat in such a vulnerable place. I walked home in the rain, getting soaked and feeling totally miserable. I never did get over the theft of that coat – such a simple thing, but one that meant a lot to me. Things in Portsmouth weren’t going to plan.
Roll Away the Stone
Things came to a head one evening when I went to a big concert by Mott the Hoople, or rather by Mott as they were known by then. The band were in terminal decline and had just released their new album Shouting and Pointing, which was due to fail to chart anywhere, and the band split up shortly afterwards. Once again I was on my own and I was just about at my lowest that night, and sat morosely watching the band, who were performing in a kind of club venue, with the main crowd in the middle and then with tables round the outside.
As part of the fun, they released loads of balloons and Frisbees, which were wafted and whizzed around the auditorium, and added to the enjoyment of most of the audience – apart from little old lonesome me. Towards the end of the show I walked round the side of the audience, to get a better view, and as I did so a Frisbee going at high speed caught me full on the side of my head.
Because I was in such a depressed mood at the time, instead of ducking down and exclaiming, as one would do normally, I simply stopped mid-stride and then slowly turned my head round to where the Frisbee had come from with a bit of a death stare. I could immediately see that it had come from a small group of students, as they were all looking mortified and embarrassed, and rather scared, evidently thinking that I might come and exact some revenge on them. But it had clearly been an accident, and I wasn’t sure exactly who had thrown the Frisbee anyway, so I just walked on, pretending to be a hard man, but I was hurt, hurt deep inside.
The Frisbee whacking the side of my head, thrown by fellow students who were clearly enjoying themselves, was just too much to bear, it was the last straw. I felt like it was a sign that I really wasn’t wanted, and I would never be accepted. I realised I had to do something if I was to escape this whole bad situation. Suddenly, it was obvious – I would go and see my friend Gazza in Leeds – and I would go now, there and then, without delay. And so it was that at 11.00pm that night, I left the concert, got in my beloved Mini and drove Northwards towards Leeds and the friendship of Gazza.
Leeds or bust
Going to Leeds in the middle of the night was a strange drive. To begin with, I picked up a hitchhiker who insisted on giving me some Speed, which I had never had before, and he shovelled a couple of small spoonfuls of white powder into my mouth. This led to the rest of the journey seeming to take about 6 months, as my brain was in total overdrive (unlike my little Mini!) I then picked up another guy who immediately started to roll a large joint and I smoked that on top of the speed.
All I can say is that having driven overnight, straight from a concert and having been plied with enough speed and weed to sink a battleship, I wasn’t in the best shape when I arrived in Leeds at about 6.00am the next day. Not only that but as it had been a snap decision to go I hadn’t told Gazza I was coming so he wasn’t expecting me, and above all, when I got to Leeds I realised that I didn’t know where he lived. Apart from that, all good!
I drove to the University and as it was very early on a Sunday morning I was lucky to find a caretaker/security guard in a kiosk and explained the situation. He was clearly used to students and didn’t appear that surprised by my predicament. I told him that my friend Gazza lived in a Hall of Residence, but I had no idea which one!
My heart sank when he explained that there were about 10 Halls, so that just knowing he was in a hall didn’t help too much. Had I any idea of which one he was in? I knew that he had mentioned the name of the hall he was in previously, and suggested that if he could tell me the names of the various halls, maybe I‘d recognise Gazza’s. He obliged, and when he said Henry Price it immediately rang a bell, and I remembered that was indeed the name of his hall of residence. Thank God!
The caretaker gave me directions and I drove round to the hall and parked on the main road outside. However, I still had no idea of which room, or indeed which flat, or even which floor Gazza lived on, in what turned out to be a massive block. Not only that but it was 6.30am on a Sunday morning, and there was no-one around to ask and no way of finding out by other means (no mobile phones etc. of course).
Stalker!
I tried the main doors, but they were locked and there was no sign of a concierge or anyone else around to help me get in. I stood there for a while, with my head completely fuzzy from the drive, the lack of sleep and the drugs, not knowing what on earth to do next, when I saw someone go into the building through a small door on the side.
I lumbered forward, in a bit of a haze, and tried the door - it was open! Once inside I found myself in a stairwell, but with no idea of where to go. I started to climb the stairs and saw a cleaner, and so I mumbled ‘Hello’. I think she nearly had a heart attack as she hadn’t heard me come up behind her, and when she did see me, I know I must have looked quite a sight!
She asked me what I was doing there and I replied that I was looking for my friend, Gazza, and had she seen him? She said she didn’t know anyone by the name of ‘Gazza’ and couldn’t help me, and shot off down the corridor. I wasn’t sure what to do and stood there for a while, peering through locked doors that led into carpeted corridors off the stairwell.
Not long after this the cleaner reappeared with another woman, who asked me in a rather abrupt manner what I was doing there and how had I got in. I did my usual mumbled reply saying that I was looking for Gazza, but I wasn’t sure what flat he was in, and that I’d entered through an unlocked door. She replied officiously that she didn’t know anyone called Gazza, but that they certainly weren’t in this block, as this was the girls’ block, and that I should get out – now! Oops!
I did as I was bade, and she followed me back down the stairs, shutting and locking the exterior door behind me. A warm welcome indeed! I wandered off towards the adjoining block, which I assumed must