Spin Dried

So the year is 1976.

I remember it clearly because it was the massive summer drought.

The sun would blaze down on the poor burned-up people below it without mercy, hour on hour every day. It went on for months.

Now although I was young and skinny back then, I hated the heat.

Proper fucking hated it.

I’d try to hide indoors watching Why Don’t You? on the telly, until my sweaty mates would come and knock for me, and my even sweatier mum would throw me out.

At night back then every window in England seemed to be open, everyone shouting their business out in hot-tempered arguments.

That’s how I knew the weird bloke next door was having a worse nightmare summer than I was.

Terry was his name and he lived with his mum and dad in the launderette next door to my house in Highbury. He was eighteen years old and didn’t have any friends so to speak, a bit of an odd kid that stayed in his room mainly, minding his own business. His room was at the back of the flat, same as mine, so his bedroom window was next along from mine.

Every time his mum and dad went out, his little sister and her friends would taunt him mercilessly about everything, and he would scream at them to leave him alone, “I’m telling Mum,” etc, and they would be in fits of laughter shouting about how he was going to die a virgin, and how stupid his clothes looked and his long hair made him look like a girl. You know the sort of thing I mean, I’m sure.

Anyway, as always, I digress.

It was around the summer holidays, I suppose, when it was decided that Terry had to get out more and socialise, and because the funfair was at Finsbury Park, he should go there.

Guess who had to go with him?

Yes, of course it was me.

Although I was nine years old.

Although he was eighteen.

Although we didn’t know each other.

My mum just said, “Shut up, it’s a free day out.”

My dad laughed.

So there I was wandering the fairground with this awkward bloke from next door.

We had an ice cream off the guy in the van and walked around the rides a while to see what was what.

We did a few rides, and then the dodgems, but a load of blokes who went to his school scared him off, taking the piss, asking if I was his “new bird”.

Anyway, we ambled off and took refuge in a big, enclosed ride called “The Rotor”.

There was really loud glam rock playing through massive speakers outside the ride, with a bloke with greased-back hair, denim jeans and a leather jacket, complete with silver metal studs, walking up and down with a microphone shouting at people…

“Roll up, roll up, who’s brave enough to ride the Wall of Death?”

“Come on, cowards,” he was shouting with a massive smile… “How about you, my love?” to a couple of young girls.

Then he looks at me and says, “You, mate… you’ll do, you’ll do just fine.”

Then a quick look at Terry.

“Not you, anorak,” he says to Terry, looking at me with a smile. “Only if the kid goes on and looks after you.”

It was the first time I’d laughed all day.

We paid our money and went inside.

WOW, the music was just as loud inside as it was out. There was a weird brown carpet up the walls and nothing else, just a few lights flashing green and red and a floor.

The music, All the Young Dudes by Mott the Hoople, was blaring when the guy from outside came in and showed us all to stand by the wall, stand up straight while the ride began.

The floor raised up beneath our feet, pushing everyone up the wall. At first I thought, well that was boring, but…

The whole room began to turn. Well blow me down, I’d never known anything like it.

When the ride operator shouts, “Whatever you do, don’t do this…”

then stands on his head.

Faster.

Faster.

Until it was just a blur. I was absolutely stuck to the wall, unable to move. Then the floor dropped away completely. It was the best thing that had ever happened that summer holiday.

I couldn’t imagine a cooler bloke than him, laughing his head off while upside down at how terrified me and Terry were. I laughed so much I nearly wet my pants.

After a few minutes the ride was done and out we went.

Stuff that.

I went straight around and paid for another go. Terry went up the stairs to a bit at the top where you could watch. I did the ride a couple of times again, it never got boring. Then Terry shouted down that he was bored and going to get something to eat, he’d meet me back there in a while.

The last time I did the Rotor (I was skint by now), the operator fella came on again, shouting that nobody was allowed to do this…

He takes off the leather jacket to reveal two full sleeves of tattoos — red and blue Japanese mons, monsters, flowers, you name it.

Anyway, as the room starts to spin, and God knows how, he takes a flying leap up onto the wall and ends up sideways, stuck there.

Sideways.

WOW. This little kid was proper impressed. To think he actually got paid money to do this stuff!!

Walking home with Terry I didn’t shut up about it. I truly knew what I wanted to do for a job.

A couple of days later my grandad was round having a drink with my dad and he explained the physics of it to me. Centrifugal force. How the wall holds you there. He worked on one-arm bandits and gambling machines, so he knew a lot of fairground people. He said he’d get me a job on the fairground, get him away from that mad cow, nodding toward my mum. Him and Dad smiled.

I didn’t care about any of the mechanics of it. To me it was magic.

Still is.