Running and running, down the street. And I just remember...it'd be quicker if I used my bike [as if I didn't know that already].
It's dark - but only about 4pm. Just started raining. And I'm peddling hard, on my 5-speed racer with taped drop-handlebars. Looking down at the road, the car headlights flashing on the silver-grey tarmac.
I'm going to overtake the bus that's just pulled in. Shall I? And I spurt past, quick, the bus driver can see me in his mirror now, and he indicates to pull out as I reach his window - and indicates to me with a single finger. I suppose the 'Ever-Ready' bike lights are a bit crap. Maybe he couldn't see me. Plus I have to bash the red one to get it working properly.
Into town and I lock-up the bike in an alley beneath the dentist surgery. There's a motorbike bloke revving up in the alley. The two-stroke engine echoes around the brickwork, like an amplified football rattle.
I leg it down the High Street, splashing through the growing puddles. I've got more than a bootful. And I get to the door of 'Our Price' just as the guy's got his hoover out.
Flick, flick, flick, flick, flick, through the 'F' section. The Fall. Bend Sinister. £5.99.
Just made it.
On the way back the LP blows into my bike wheel and the corner of the cover's a bit mangled [to this day]. Also, one of the flimsy 'Our Price' bag handles snaps, and I have to make it back one handed, clutching the record to my chest, the rain hammering my face.