Glasgow, May 1979 Mick McGee pushed open the bar door and gazed through the haze of smoke. A group of young lads were crowding around the new jukebox as if it was some magical apparatus. The dulcet tones of Debbie Harry could be heard singing ‘heart of glass’ above the hum of chatter and laughter. A voice called to him, ‘O’er here, Micky boy. Don’t staun there like a spare prick at a wedding.’ Mick eased through the busy bar and playfully slapped his long-time friend Gaz, on the shoulder...
Don't Let it Be Forgot · Jan 17
