I was 4 years old in 1972. I remember little of it. It might have been the year when one of my neighbours accused me of being a big baby and I said “yeah, I know”. It was the year I started school but I was oblivious to the happenings going on in this book. Doc Martens, reggae music and beat clubs. Surely that didn’t happen in Catholic Ireland.
The characters here are adolescents, ones if their “pimples exploded the whole of O Connell Street would be dead”. The glasses may be rose tinted looking back but it was a real time of misogyny and homophobia. Anyone a bit different was singled out and trouble seemed to follow those who were on the outside. Education wasn’t really a concern for many and for those looking to go to Australia well they would be there in 6 weeks on a boat.
A self-published treat of Glam rock, skinheads, Dublin’s grey streets and some innocence.