Could do with a coffee: October 2008

Newcastle, mid 70s: not the urban city of haircuts it is today but a rather tough mining city with a cruel wind, pit ponies and extremely specific accents. In amongst this rather industrial city, the youth culture found a way to survive by inventing it's own subculture, markedly different from that of their parents. In the case of my family, my Mum, young, single and employed, turned to disco. Oh yes. There were union jack platform boots [sadly lost] and emergency flares and my Mum and her friends spent their money in the haunts of Newcastle, drinking babycham and working on their dance moves, all whilst pretending to ignore the whelpish lads who would make rather clumsy passes at them or indeed any other interchangeable female of breeding age. It was simple back then...

Friday and Saturday nights were established and, much like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, they truly lived for the weekends. Only they wore less white. However one of the group, Tracy, started to be a little aloof, she stopped coming out. For weeks my Mum would call and invite her but the answer was always the same, 'no'. This Nun-like seclusion was quite out of character and the heroine of this tale [Ma' Mama] resolved to find out what was happening.

Had she met someone? Was she broke? New friends? What o' what could it be?

The answer was unexpected to say the least: Tracy confessed that she had always disliked her nose... Now I've asked my Mum about this, apparently it was fractionally larger than the average nose but she was in no danger of being mistaken for a sundial. News that young Tracy was unhappy with her nose was a shock but my Mum could accept her discomfort but had not yet worked out why this would stop her, suddenly going out. There was more, there always is...
Tracy was saving up for a nose job. Now, once again, I want to highlight that this was all taking place circa 1973. "Nose job" was not even a phrase back in this forgotten decade. This also was not California, this was stout, dour Newcastle where any personal vanity was seen as a rather Southern affectation and would be duly mocked for the rest of your life. There was revolution in the air! Tracy was questioning the validity of the nose god gave her, hell, she was questioning her very parents and the nose their night of love gave her. It was a huge deal.

My Mum, a little shocked but impressed at her conviction then understood that Tracy was staying in, to save money for the nose job. For, as it turned out, there was a time restriction. Tracy was a devoted follower of the pop singer Gary Glitter, someone subsequently arrested in Thailand for his predilection to jailbait, but at this time, those heady 70s, he was an extremely popular, if somewhat absurd singer who was on 'Top of the Pops' with various number one hits. Tracy wanted to see Gary in concert, to convey from the mosh pit her desperate devotion in a crowd of teenage girls all bearing their breasts and shaking their mamaries! Hot! For Tracy, her natural nose was the only thing between her and some Glitter-tastic love. A nose job was vital for her peace of mind and future happiness. The new nose was the passport to the gilded land of Gary, leaving behaind her groupie status forever.

Somewhat bemused, my Mum went away and left Tracy to her own devices for the 10 months it took for her to save up. Jump forward 7 months: Glitter's concert was coming up in 3 months and they were planning to go together, after the operation.

Tracy goes in for the operation, now, this was an involved procedure and, to reiterate one more time, plastic surgery was not recognised outside medical circles and the aftermath was undocumented. This meant that when Tracy emerged from hospital an incredible 10 days later no-one expected the bruising, swelling and bandages. Newcastle was unprepared for the hidden cost of surgery but Tracy was adamant her new life was about to begin... after a further two months, the swelling had receded, the bruising had gone and Tracy was duly reborn. She went on a strict diet to slim down for Gary, she got a new hair cut to show off her new, proportioned nose, she went shopping for an entirely new wardrobe. In short, Tracy was on fire! The only tiny problem was that her nose did not look any different. Being of a collectively considerate disposition, none of Tracy's friends pointed this out to her and she was happy in her state.

So the concert countdown started. They went shopping for concert-specific outfits, they resoled the platforms to ensure maximum height and comfort. The new album was bought and some low-level dance moves were practiced in front of mirrors so they would look cool and nonchalent if the Glittered one ever looked their way. Lyrics were learnt, hair was IRONED for crying out loud. There was seemingly no end to the preparations. As mating rituals went, this was elaborate.

On the evening of the concert, my Mum and Tracy, in their very gladdest-of-rags, made their merry way to the concert some 6 hours before the concert began, to get a good spot. Six long hours on those first-issue platforms made of unyielding mdf wood, six hours being pushed around by similarly perky teens, six hours of making one drink last an hour, to ensure they wouldn't run out of money. six hours and then, gradually the time passed. Here it was, the moment Tracy had literally spent twelve months waiting for, one year of her life, absorbed with the single task of looking irrestible. The Glitter chords started, the crowd started clapping, my Mum was looking around in wonder at the theatre of it all. Every other pair of eyes in the room was drawn to the stage. And then suddenly, in the shadows, there he was, with the skintight leathertte trousers, a little more squat than he appeared on TV, a little older too, but still him, undoubtedly him. The preamble was over, here was the moment when worlds collide and life is forever changed. Mum reported that she was holding her breath in reverence for Tracy's Big Moment. The Glitter walked into the centre of the stage, towards the microphone... Here he was at last! He opened his mouth to speak and, looking around, Mum noticed that Tracy was not where she had been for the last six hours, namely just on the right of her field of vision. No, Tracy was nowhere to be seen. Mum scanned the room, a little alarmed by her sudden absence. She then noticed people to her right pointing at the ground. Tracy was lying in a crumpled but skinny heap at her feet, she had fainted. She missed the entire concert.