Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 74,414
So... here's what I wrote in me blog, a whole couple of months before the Jimmy Vile thing broke...
So late last night I got back from a pub session down the road at the Crown & Anchor with Steve & Jane. Always good to catch up with friends. Made myself a cup of green tea then drifted off to sleep on the couch without touching it, such is the post-pub way. Next thing I know its 1:30 AM.and I swear on my dead brother’s life that within about three seconds of my drifting back into conscientiousness, I’m looking at my own face grinning back at me from the screen. Sake! Am I going MAD here?! Turns out no. Turns out by some seriously f***ing scary set of coincidences, I‘d drifted off with BBC Four on, and had randomly woken up at the precise moment that channel was showing Top of the Pops: The Story of 1977, and there I was on stage with Jimmy Saville with the about the only three other blokes out of an audience of about eighty teenage girlies. This being the very same televisual sequence that my granny in Glasgow stumbled upon in an unlikely way just before Xmas 1977, just before she died. She’d told us about it at the time, though nobody in the family other than herself had ever seen that programme from then til now, thirty five years later. Nobody could even work out why she was watching Top of the Pops in the first place! I remember it like it was yesterday. I was working for the BBC at the time, big daft boy aged 21 and had drunkenly gatecrashed the set after work, courtesy of a friendly security guard of my passing acquaintance.
Seriously f***ing freaky and I don’t have even the foggiest idea of how to begin processing that information. Write it off as a ghost in the machine. God bless you grandma, and apologies for the language. xxxx
Photo to follow...
So late last night I got back from a pub session down the road at the Crown & Anchor with Steve & Jane. Always good to catch up with friends. Made myself a cup of green tea then drifted off to sleep on the couch without touching it, such is the post-pub way. Next thing I know its 1:30 AM.and I swear on my dead brother’s life that within about three seconds of my drifting back into conscientiousness, I’m looking at my own face grinning back at me from the screen. Sake! Am I going MAD here?! Turns out no. Turns out by some seriously f***ing scary set of coincidences, I‘d drifted off with BBC Four on, and had randomly woken up at the precise moment that channel was showing Top of the Pops: The Story of 1977, and there I was on stage with Jimmy Saville with the about the only three other blokes out of an audience of about eighty teenage girlies. This being the very same televisual sequence that my granny in Glasgow stumbled upon in an unlikely way just before Xmas 1977, just before she died. She’d told us about it at the time, though nobody in the family other than herself had ever seen that programme from then til now, thirty five years later. Nobody could even work out why she was watching Top of the Pops in the first place! I remember it like it was yesterday. I was working for the BBC at the time, big daft boy aged 21 and had drunkenly gatecrashed the set after work, courtesy of a friendly security guard of my passing acquaintance.
Seriously f***ing freaky and I don’t have even the foggiest idea of how to begin processing that information. Write it off as a ghost in the machine. God bless you grandma, and apologies for the language. xxxx
Photo to follow...
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