Steve Harley threw me a rose!

Redolent and slighty surreal decay trigger strange memories

Once, in the mid-70’s, when I was sixteen, Steve Harley threw me a red rose. Yes he did. Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean to. I’m sure it was meant for some cute girl with big breasts, but I got it and cared for it mightily all the way home.

It was at the Finsbury Rainbow … or it might have been the Hammersmith Odeon. Hmm, the memory is vague. Not that it matters because he’d played ‘Sebastian’ and I was away over the hills on his music and image. Glam and goth before goth was even thought of. Perhaps he had red nail polish, too…? Or he might have been wearing a flowered waistcoat. What does it matter. It was Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel and they were FUCKING GREAT!

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