My head is a bit better now. Fragments of my memory are returning. It’s still quite hazy though. I remember bits:
There are crowds on the streets. Most are wearing red clothing. There are men, women and children. They are dancing! They are smiling! They are laughing! They are chanting rhythmically. I can’t quite catch it but it sounds like:
Grampians!
Grampians!
Grampians!
Perhaps there is a Scottish connection.
The chant changes:
Grampiones! Grampiones!
All day! All day! All day!
And from a different direction, another, more tuneful chant:
We are the Grampians my Fred!
And we’ll keep on farting on your head!
We are the Grampians!
We are the Grampians!
No time for boozers coz we are the Grampians of the world!
And another:
We one the lead!
At No Heart Shame!
We one the lead at No Heart Shame!
We one the lead at the SHIT ‘OLE!
We one the lead at No Heart Shame!
Why am I so elated?
43 years! You’re ‘aving a bath
43 years! You’re ‘aving a bath
71 – we done it again!
71 – we done it again!
I remember travelling home that night. Through the desolation and despair that is Tottenham High Road. Grim men and women, with their own personal grey clouds above their heads. People with nothing to look forward to. People that have suffered, are suffering, and will continue to suffer! No light at the end of the tunnel for them. Cold, living in the shadow of their magnificent neighbours, with only the memories of four decades ago to sustain them.
Sad bastards!
