He'd have fcukin loved the atmosphere, the Bovril and the dog shit. Along with "Can I mind your car, Your Royal Highness?"I miss the atmosphere and the dog shit.
However I'm not sure Mr Mansour would have shelled out on us if we were still there.
Nice article, OP, and well crafted.
Memories from the 60s and 70s include:
- Derby matches. They were something else. Bottles thrown up at the girders for the crystalline shards to shower down onto visiting raggies. And a procession of walking wounded being escorted round the pitch with cut heads.
- Bovril. A beverage to delight every gourmet’s palate.
- Standing on the fencing at the very back of the stand, back-heeeling the cladding to make more noise.
- One particular night when we sang “Oh Rodney Rodney!” until we lost our voices.
- The luxurious bottles of Molton Brown liquid hand wash and lotion to be enjoyed in the immaculately presented amenities.
- Still blagging my way into the schoolboys entrance, age 21.
Actually, one of those is a lie.
I remember Deb rip. A mainstay in City’s mob in the 70s
I can believe that. Fortunately I used to have 14 hole Docs on in my youth to wade through the sludge and piss.Fun Fact: I met someone who worked on the demolition of the site. The bogs were not connected to any sewers - the biggest soak away / shit well the lads had ever seen was how it was described. Never forget that smell.
You had to be bloody careful standing on the rails at the back against the sheeting! The spikes every 6 inches or so we’re fuckin leathal!
Helen(I think you mean) passed away several years ago, although I don't know what year.Whatever happened to Mary Bell.
Always ringing that bell .
Mary Bell was a 70's child killer...... Big fat Helen and her bell were someone completely different. Sadly she passed away mid 2000'sWhatever happened to Mary Bell.
Always ringing that bell .
I can believe that. Fortunately I used to have 14 hole Docs on in my youth to wade through the sludge and piss.