We’ll meet by the Chip shop in Marmaduke Street

Story told to me by, Roger Small, great songwriter, now disappeared. Maybe we should all take heed?


7pm 9th November 1969:

The street was silent that night, the 1960’s bells still ringing in my ears,

We knew the dream was over. 

You said; “Why let nostalgia stagnate us? I feel a bitter end coming”.

 I said; “Let’s meet up here in five years’ time?” You said; “I promise you I will” 

I really thought I could see the sky change, like the guards of time welcoming in a dull red rim of ruin that was to be the next decade. The watchers, (whoever they were?) seemed to be smiling, and a kind of strange light was shining on that ancient chip shop, the smell of ending was everywhere.

I made my way home shutters and doors all closed, innocent mice rejoicing, my feet following the beating heart of the city.

7pm 9th November 1974:

I approach the corner of Marmaduke street and walk past the broken street sign,

can’t see the chip shop, only a boarded-up window, and a placard reading, “Under Offer”

 As I approach, I can see an old man leaning against the dirty old wall smoking a pipe, he looks curiously at me, “Are you Joe?” he says, “I’m Katy’s father” 

I feel a sharp pain in my heart as I say, “Yes that’s me!”, the old man goes on, “She told me to meet you Joe, she got ill Joe, she so wanted to meet you my boy, she never forgot you!” 

“I’m sorry boy, she died yesterday” 

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